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Words in Silence

He squirmed a little and swatted her as best one could when one's hand was stuck in another's pocket. "Well, yeah," Jack said as he rested his head atop hers again. "The world fluctuates between reason and chaos if you didn't know, anti-hero; figuring out what doesn't make sense is part of the fun, at least for me." Though he wasn't sure he'd ever truly understand Chel, whatever he pretended with his files.

He fell silent again, considering the embers of the neglected fire. At first it's just an "mm" in reply, hummed against Chel's hair; he's yet to figure out why he had brought it up at all. Then Jack tilts his head so he can properly whisper into her ear, "Thank you for staying", treating it as the secret it ought to be. The walkabout the first night, the watch shift, seeing him back to Jordan and Wren, listening to his story, this second watch shift: a few words seems like a paltry return for it all, but he's still floundering in this unknown territory of unconditional emotion. Maybe even just the tiniest bit afraid, as if there was still a psyche waiting to get sprung on him.

Words in Silence

It was like a small switch was flipped inside him. Something in that answer was enough to spark him into action. He couldn't tell which got more of a rise out of him, being compared to that fatass, the fact that she'd never stop taunting him about the god damn food, or that she was starting to blush. Either way, Chel would find herself fastened in place as he pulled her closer, lips all but pressed to her ear in retaliation. (A peck on the cheek was nothing, a kiss to his neck was nothing in comparison--)

"We both know he can't compare," Jack murmured with that lazy, arrogant smile.

Words in Silence

In spite of himself, a pleased sound leaves him. Nevertheless, two words are enough to give him pause and remember: A shoddy explanation to Hanna. An etched X over his heart with his index finger. "Won't slip up while we're dating." Were they anymore? He hasn't heard from her in weeks. From all he's seen of her, Jack might have simply imagined his fake girlfriend. He's never even mentioned Hanna to the group, now that he thinks about it. She's become inconsequential: a tool he doesn't have use for now that the blind dates have long since died down. Maybe she's never been all that interested to begin with, maybe he's been holding out dutifully to a cause that's never had meaning. (It surprisingly hurts to think of it like that, but it wouldn't be the first time.)

Whatever it is, he boils it down to the simple fact that Hanna isn't around and Chel is. (Always will.) Beyond that, he doesn't know yet. So he leaves it at that until such time that he has to revisit it again, even if the gray area makes him doubt.

Jack keeps his arms locked around her, but he makes a deliberate show of scanning the other tents followed by a slight shake of the head to her. Later, he mouths. Too many people around; if he got put through another inquisition about his personal life, he'd skewer someone. But it leaves him feeling almost incomplete and wrong to just stop (frustrated, that's the word), so he does break his hold so that while one arm is around her, the other combs some of her hair back. It seems almost hilariously mild to switch to when he'd had other designs in mind.

There's still a hint of that desire in his gaze, though; will power can only hold back so much, and while all else could be stature or mask, he's always had trouble with the eyes.

"I am," he says more conversationally, though he keeps his voice muted. "Turns out being a boozehound isn't cheap, even if you stick to shitty beer. Plus I was bleeding money and I need to start saving up. I want some damn good furniture when I move out."

Words in Silence

He snorted softly at the suggestion but it was in good humor; a larger bed literally was first on his list of things to get. "Interest piqued. How about you get Emil," Jack counteroffered with a little grin at how much she was blushing now, "while I get my things? He didn't look like he enjoyed my story, and I think I might make him piss himself or something if he saw me in his tent." Then he patted her cheek, partially because his work on her hair had been undone and partially to get her moving. Like it was Chel's fault she'd decided to get pulled to him and stay in his lap for that long.

Once up, Jack ambled to his tent, grabbed his notepad and pen, and snatched a second coat from the fresh laundry pile. It wasn't hard to slide it on too of his first jacket: his size tended to come with the assumption that he was round, so he was well insulated. Pad tucked under his arm, he went back to meet Chel as he adjusted his scarf with quickly cooling fingers, curious to see if she had a legitimate spot to show him or was just looking for an excuse to get them alone.

Night Sky

She took him by the arm (it's dark even with a flashlight- so they don't get lost of course) and led him up the mountainside like some sort of terrestrial siren. When they have to walk along the cliffsides she took it slow, she let him adjust to the height. They had small banter, but nothing remarkable.

When they finally reached the spot she wanted to show him, she darted ahead like an excited child. It's a small wooden platform built into the cliffside. It had a metal fence around the outside to prevent people from falling off, and two pairs of spotting scopes that let you use the binoculars for 50 cents each (unfortunately whether Jack wanted to use them or not, Chel didn't have the change). The platform itself is a scenic viewpoint for the Battle of Zhulou tourist attraction. During the day sightseers would swarm the walkways, but considering it was the dead of night, nobody was there and nobody was guarding such a random location.

Below them spread out the yellow river, a long winding blue torrent that seemed miles and miles away from where they would. The cliffsides were jagged and ranged from sheer to stark. It was a long way down, and upon description anyone would wonder if Chel had brought him here simply to torture him for his fear of heights.

But the ground wasn't what was interesting. It was the sky.

Night Sky

Going slow wasn't enough to ease his concern. He hesitated when she peeled away. Now suddenly there was no assurance something won't break underfoot, as though having Chel nearby would make sure it didn't. Maybe the platform would give out and just collapse over the side of the mountain and take them with it. He felt lightheaded just thinking about it (or maybe that was the mountain air up here, he and Wren weren't as used to it as the others were).

Jack watched her for a few seconds, then steeled himself and followed after. Carefully.

He regretted looking over the bars immediately. Face scrunched, he backed off, became aware of just how high they were, and began to force himself to take deep breaths. It was hard to look skyward through his mounting anxiety: the reminder of just how much distance there is seems to be a handy addition to the image of a fall. (Didn't you want space?)

But he did look up, and he was speechless.

Jack leaned back against the cliff wall, staring up as though he wanted to take the whole of the night sky into his eyes. He'd never seen anything like it; the island wasn't remarkable and originally hadn't been due to its fog, and Aurora had light pollution. It reminded him of the few times his family went into the woods to camp away from it all in their cabin: the stark distinction between city and nature struck him just as it always had back then. But even that view hadn't been as crystal clear as this one.

He exhaled sometime later. "Beautiful," he said reverently.

Night Sky

He squinted until he found where she pointed and mumbled, "Jesus..." How high did these things go? Jack felt a little sheen of sweat break out over his palms at the thought of going any higher and wiped them on the inside of his sleeves.

When the cliff wall grew too uncomfortable to lean against any more (or rather, when it obstructed his view of the sky as he tilted his head back), he found a spot by Chel and laid out as well, though he was turned the opposite way so that he wasn't dangling over the edge (Jesus, Jesus no he didn't want to feel the void beneath). Their heads were about level with one another, though they had slightly different perspectives of the stars.

He breathed out a, "Yeah," because he didn't have his grasp of the language back quite yet. It's hard to think when Owain is there, present just long enough to remind him: She is too good to you. There's more there, Jack knows it; the giant has always been prone to verbosity. But the condensed version is enough.

He swallowed, knowing that the more she gave the more he would either have to take without consequence (which grows harder with every encounter, he's starting to note) or return in kind (which means more than he can fathom in this moment).

"For all the sights to be discovered in Halloween and beyond," he said after a while, "it's nice to remember there's still something here...Natural wonders instead of supernatural. But you know what?" He turned his head slightly and gave her a self-deprecating smile. "I don't think anything can save me or my shitty song writing skills. Not even this."