milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Jake comes downstairs with Oy at his heels, freshly bathed and looking for the first time in months as if he's had a decent night's sleep. He's even got that content expression back on his face, and the long-absent journal under his arm.

He takes a seat at the bar and orders a sandwich.

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Jake gives him a nicer version of the Laconic stare at the way Brian's eyes are roaming.

"My father worked for a large advertising corporation. I hear it pays well."

"It can, if you're any good at it. Which I am," he said. "Did he handle any big accounts?"

His brows rose at the terse expression and this time he took a much more languid look over the other's physique, if for not other reason than it amused him to do so.

"I'm sure he did. He worked for a TV network at one point. We lived the fine life in New York City."

He sounds more than a little sarcastic.

"I came close to a job in New York, but it was better in Pittsburgh," he said with the smallest trace of regret.

"Bad relationship with your father?" he asked conversationally, picking up on the sour tone.

"None to speak of," he says neutrally. "I have other companions that are closer to me than them, say thankya."

"Umm.. Thank you?" he said, confused a bit by the response. "Well that's good. Twinks with daddy issues make my dick soft."

"Twinks?" he repeats, brow furrowing slightly.

"Thin young men of a boyish appearance," he answered as he gave Jake a sidelong glance. "Gay term."

"How old do you think I am, Brian?" he asks smoothly.

Brian turned his head completely to look the young man over. "Don't tell me you're another vampire demon thing..."

"No, I'm human," he says amusedly.

"So how old are you? I'm guessing... 20?"

"Try fifteen."

He takes a sip of his water and stares out at the crowd.

"Well that's a pretty big toy for a fifteen year old," said Brian, eyeing the gun again before taking a sip of his drink. "So are you saving the world for extra credit or is this the Boy Scouts gone scarily awry?"

"A little more like a Boy Scout turned mercenary, although I wasn't much into things like guns in New York. Fast hands," he finishes, shrugging.

"Rebel gunslinging Boy Scout who's out to save the world. Love it. It would make a good comic book, I should tell Mikey," he murmured to himself. He looked the boy over again and then shook his head. "Seems a lot for a teenager to bear, doesn't it?"

Jake snorts. "Not particularly. I'm not exactly a troubled youth."

"No? Well, perhaps it's just where I come from, but most 15 year olds don't wear guns."

"It's necessary from where we ended up."

"That's a bad deal," he admitted as he sipped the end of his drink.

"Not really," he says. "It was either that or sit around and wait for the world to move on, or for someone else to come along who had a gun and kill you. Never hurts to be prepared."

Jake's good at the understatements today.

"Well, you do appear to be prepared for nearly anything. Not a lot of shooting where I come from. Well. Not of guns anyway."

Brian gets a half smile for his innuendo.

"Not every person in the world should be able to pick up a gun."

"I'm not big on guns. They tend to lead to injury. I'm more of a make love, not war sort."

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