"Leave me your phone number," Jada suggested to him; "I just might." Ice was certanly up front and open in a way that she hadn't had an opportunity to experience. Human connection, she had always experienced, was a yo-yo; they wanted you when you were unavailable, and they tried to reel you back when you weren't. It wasn't even just one person who had done it to her, either. Affection and intimacy was a game she was ill-equipped to play, it seemed, and so something that seemed straight-forward... was probably not. There was a pit, somewhere, and she was inexperienced enough not yet to see it.
She watched him begin to wander back towards the foyer with bemusement, her eyes drifting over his shape, debating. You light up better than a Christmas tree, he called back to her, and she was glad he (hopefully) wasn't close enough to hear her quiet meep as she tried to center herself. Business. Presents to wrap, furniture to move. Things to get done. Merry Christmas Eve.
"There won't be much, I promise, Mr. Vargas." Jada assured him, and moved up the stairs to join him with the handtruck. "My office is over here." She led the way down the hall slowly, pushing open the double doors to the room, where there was only half an office setup; bookshelves, cabinetry, a fireplace, a few scattered chairs. "Place the desk by the window, would you? Like so." she showed him carefully how she wanted the antique placed. "I'll settle the chairs in the appropriate places later."
And then down the hall, further still, toting the mirror. Pushing open the door to her bedroom, Jada failed to remember her cat's proclivity towards man-hating, and was unable to prevent him flinging himself into Matt, clawing and snarling, and then launching himself towards Ice- where he promptly began to purr, hanging to the front of the one-armed man's shirt. "What the ever-loving ********." That made... 5. "Okay then. That mirror," she pointed to a large frame on the wall, gilt and fairly decently-sized, "Will be going in the library." The french doors that led to her private patio and down to the pool were closed, but the curtains were splayed wide open to let in sunlight, and the hardwood floors gleamed pristine. "Please watch your steps. The one you just brought in here will go there," she pointed.
Directions were vague in words, perhaps, but there was no dearth of expressive movement, or involvement in getting everything put in place.
Strickenized
Just a base layout for the shape of the room; the layout is slightly different.
Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 6:28 pm
Ah yes, he reflected. She certainly knows how to order people around. Isaiah spectated while Vargas, Matt and Shawn split for their respective orders. He watched her emphatic gesticulations with interest, as did the rest of the crew, though for different reasons - Vargas needed the specificity, where Isaiah wondered how such methods reflected on her character. She struck him as an extrovert, at least - seldom did he find introverts so willing to engage in spatial expression. He did not progress much farther than that, however, when Jada opened her bedroom door.
All thoughts of handing over his business card vanished when the cat tore out of the bedroom, assaulted Matt, then moved onto Ice. He didn't quite know how to respond, having never met a cat so aggressive or borderline in its personality shifts, but the thing tried to tear up his shirt, so he caught it and held it accordingly. Unfortunately, holding the cat up in a cradle position occupied his arm (and added considerable strain to the already sore muscles). He sighed through his nose.
Matt echoed Jada's sentiments, though he cut himself off at the last minute to sub in a more appropriate 'fudge'. The cat punctured through his slacks and left a couple rakes on his shins. It drew blood, and Matt internally frowned at the prospect of having to clean up afterward. He looked to Vargas, who excused him to the truck to seek the first-aid kit.
Shawn laughed in his usual schadenfreude. While Vargas gave him the stink eye for it, Shawn seemed incapable of stifling his giggles. Shaking his head, he stepped into the bedroom to remove the mirror. The space was huge, and he knew this, but Shawn proved more inclined to scoff at such opulence than to behold it with interest. Ice knew he would be overhearing Shawn's personal feelings about such wealth for at least the next week, and Matt would eventually grow fed up wth the matter. For as much as Matt tried to stay positive, Shawn had a way of chiseling out that foundation and collapsing him into bitterness.
But they turned to their tasks well enough while Isaiah remained rooted to the spot in front of the bedroom doors. He had a fair view into the space, of course, but the function of holding the cat promised trouble if he tried to walk with it. He called to Jada while the workers were distracted with their chores. "If you want my cell, pull my wallet." He turned his head to the left, his gaze trailing down as an indicator. "I always keep a few business cards in there. I don't think you'd be able to read it if I tried to write it down for you." He hoped she would hurry, assuming she didn't want to become the topic of conversation for the month. Or become a permanent fixture in the shop's eternal trawling of Ice's love affairs.
Vargas, of course, kept an eye out while he finagled the desk alone.
Cat-stor made noises at Ice, and frankly, Jada found it disturbing. For the sheer number of men he'd torn holes in, the fact that he was at least distracted enough by Isaiah to not do more than glower at Shawn and Vargas was... well. Jada wasn't sure what the common denominator was on his preferences, or if there was some invisible die rolled in the heavens when he met someone new and if the number of the day was rolled, there was victory.
"If he's badly injured, please let me know. I can at least pay for a new pair of pants. Castor can be a bit of a wretch. I'd say it was genetic, but he was a stray." Jada couldn't say much more than that, but if Matt didn't come back in for her to apologize, the least she could do was maybe send a fruit basket or something. She made her way back across the room to Isaiah, brushing her hands over her black skirt as though there was something to brush away other than imagined specks of dust.
She was, in fact, about to reach out for Castor (his diamond kitty collar glinting and twinkling), but Ice shifted his head, and Jada pursed painted lips before sliding his hand into the offered pocket, and withdrawing the wallet. Manicured fingers flipped it open, spotting the referenced business cards and pulling one, shutting it back without rifling. "I'll keep that card. For business, of course." she gave him a bright smile, slid the wallet back into his pocket, and reached out her arms, offering wordlessly to remove her feline.
There was a familiarity in the disparity between them. But there was still a massive disparity, and her own situation was complicated. It was... something she had to think about, before she called this number for anything more than the task she'd offered to him.
"Once you're done, we can head to the library," she called to Shawn and Vargas.
Strickenized
Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 5:30 pm
"If he isn't fine, we'll make fun of him," Ice commented offhandedly. "'Taken down by a cat' is grounds for a veritable free-for-all." At least Ice found it so between the boys; occasionally Melissa would join in, or Megan, but the rest found it tasteless or offensive. Maybe Jada herself would tease Matt if they had future deliveries to this place (which he expected if her earlier proposition was any indication).
Ice found it somewhat disappointing that Jada didn't cop a feel when she reached into his back pocket, but the gesture provided insight into her comfort zones. He pegged her as the type that sported too much self-restraint to pursue another, and therefore required pursuit herself. If Jada needed to let her hair down, then someone needed to do it for her in these initial stages. Doing so wasn't difficult normally - he pursued Sid as he pursued many other interesting pairs of legs - though Jada sported the added complication of a business contact. Seldom did he sleep with those he knew on a professional level, despite the typical shadiness associated with pawn shops. Was it such a stretch for him? No, he supposed not; he only worried due to a particularly pithy idiom.
At the gesture, Ice retired the cat to her arms. The cat sported more heft than TastyKake, which he found more troublesome for his arm, so he saw no regret in shirking the cat. Once Vargas and Shawn finished with the specified moves, there would be no further reason to hold onto the feline for either of them - Castor could go free once more.
Neither Shawn nor Vargas relished moving furniture items, so they kept to task fairly quickly - both understood that, the sooner they finished their assignments, the better. The additional discomfort Shawn suffered in such a space spurred him to action perhaps too quickly, as he stumbled when coming out with the original mirror. Ice about pissed himself until Shawn recovered, mirror undamaged, and mumbled an apology in passing. Soon the new antique found its way into position, the desk stood at the specified location, and the required chores in the area concluded without great incident.
"You have a library?" Shawn asked with incredulity. Never had he heard the term used before, except for free-standing structures - who heard of a library within a house?
Not Ice, at least, and he looked on with interest. He texted Matt the intended relocation for when he returned from the truck.
Poor Matt. Jada's lips quirked, but she didn't share any personal opinion on the matter. If Castor had 'taken down' the man, anyways, his father would most likely be proud to hear about his cat-son kicking butts. Or legs. As Ice extended the feline, she leaned in to take him, and let her fingertips longer over the man's skin briefly before taking the creature. "You are a little wretch," she informed the purring animal, and dropped him in her en-suite, shutting the door.
Her eyes widened with alarm when Shawn almost dropped the mirror- s**t, she should have powered up last night and moved it herself, not- but he recovered, and no mirrors were broken. She could not have handled seven more years of bad luck, even if part of it was on him. His mumbled apology was noted, but Jada was still pale under her skin, with far too many find memories of that mirror, and mild superstition in full blossom.
There were, however, no further incidents, and Jada spent the time observing the two working men and the far-more-interesting salesman through dark lashes, instead of panicking. "I appreciate you assisting with the extra task," she said when they were done in the study and bedroom, giving them a smile.
What was she even doing, trying to flirt with Ice?! Jada didn't need any additional romance possibilities in her life- she was in love with one man who had died a milennia before, in love with another who didn't love her back, and she had set more relationships on fire than she could shake a stick at. Perhaps it was because he didn't pose a relationship risk? Or had she finally gotten so lonely she was going to harass her business partners? Because if that were the case, there were a dozen men who would be more advantageous, financially or socially.
Perhaps that was why she liked him. There was no agenda behind such an odd, accidental meeting, and no explanation for his familiarity.
"I do," Jada confirmed to Shawn with a smile, her eyes still on Ice. They shufted, however, coming to hear on Shawn and Vargas. "It is perhaps that that impressive a library, but it deserves the title." Jada brushed past Ice as she led the way back out, leaving the two men and the handcart to transport the mirror.
The library, however, was deserving of the title. It had always been her favorite room in the house, like something straight from a fairy tale, dark, gleaming wood and ornate trim, shelves from floor to ceiling and lining the walls, filling the space In-between. There was a carpeted section by the fire with a table, couches and chairs that was obviously frequently used, a small harp sitting on the table; there was a grand piano, and several reading nooks, some curtained but open.
"The mirror will go over here," she told them, pointing near the fireplace. "And I am going to steal Ice away again, briefly. There are a few empty spaces in my collection that I would appreciate you keeping an eye out for the appropriate items to complete them."
Honestly, If Ice could get his hands on some of those coveted Fleming novels for less than 60 thousand pounds, she might propose to him. Reaching out to casually place her hand on his arm, her face neutral, she guided him down the library rows towards the far end, through the mini-maze of shelves and small stairs leading to the higher level, and empty gallery places with light gleaming on empty hard-wood. Places meant for family photos, family trees, or expensive paintings.
The more expensive books were less out of easy sight, and not in the direct sunlight that dappled in from floor-to-ceiling windows. She led him around a shelf, safely out of sight of his crew, before her body language became more open and faintly inviting, shoulders shifting from rigid professionalism to model-casual. "Thank you for the number." Jada waggled the card at him. "Any limits on when I can reach out to you?"
Strickenized
Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 12:26 pm
Isaiah watched the smirk of derision beginning to form on Shawn's face when they entered the aptly-termed library. More of the family's private wealth went into its establishment, he surmised, as the shelving easily covered floor-to-ceiling height. Upon notation of their split, Shawn and Vargas went toward the stated directions while Ice found some relief in retreating from his employees. Shortly before Jada whisked him away, he spotted Matt coming back in from his temporary segue to the truck. He looked fine, apart from a slightly-diminished sunny smile. Briefly he wondered if Matt and Shawn would commiserate over the opulence; Matt was often prone to jealousy in monetary feats like these.
Ice did, however, regret moving away from the fireplace. He would've liked the added warmth for his aversion to the cold. Jada proved a suitable compensation herself; as she guided them toward the myriad recesses of the library, she supplanted business discussions with more personal, more familiar phrases. His gaze roved over the empty walls where small spotlights once found small stars. The books ended, and here the gatherings began. With it came a sense of nostalgia, and a keening yet melancholic desire to continue with his charcoal work.
He knew, however, that even when he reached the height of his technical skill, his works could never be featured in a place like this.
Her question drew him out of such retrospection. "Hmm?" Coming back to the world, he raised hand to touch her shoulder in easy familiarity. A habit borne from too many lovers. "I don't typically answer when I'm asleep. Oh, and you might not want to call Saturday or Sunday night; I like to get wasted on my days off. I get really talkative when I'm drunk, too, it's terrible." Ice offered her a crooked smile. His hand left her skin, and he started toward one of the bookshelves for perusal of their offered titles. Secondarily he touched a few on the shelf as a covert means to test the strength of the shelves. They seemed solid, certainly viable for a few chance encounters in their recesses.
He turned, leaned against the bookshelf, and crossed his arm over his chest. Looking down at her, the height difference felt akin to when he first met Sid. "So, my earlier offer still stands. We can chat about your empty gallery, or I could regale you with stories about having three tongue rings." As an afterword, he caught the foremose tongue ring's lower segment between his teeth to tighten the ball on the end. "You seem a little stressed; it might help you relax a little."
His four-fingered hand slid to her exposed shoulder, and Jada shifted to welcome the contact with a vaguely awkward polish. She was used to welcoming people closer to her, but she was never used to inviting them in for potentially... Not romantic? That wasn't romance he was offering with those tongue rings... But interaction? It was... Not anything she was used to actually considering, and she let the vulnerability flicker briefly into her bright eyes as she gazed up at him.
"Well, if you are asleep I won't be bothered," she told him, letting her hand slide up his arm, "But that is a little sad about Saturday nights. I don't have anything to keep me occupied then, usually." the fact he spent his days off getting wasted made her gut tighten, and she licked her blood-red lips nervously. She had been clean for two years, and the thought of that temptation made her shift in front of him, trail her hand up her front in a reach for a necklace that wasn't there. "I don't mind talkative though," she said, and let wicked humor drip through her voice, "I'm a model. I'm used to artists babbling at me, giving me orders. Consider the talking a comfort zone."
His hand slid off her shoulder, leaving behind tingling flesh and an awareness she hadn't welcomed in years. Did she welcome it now? That was a consideration for later consumption. For now she welcomed the idea of it, with the half-curiosity of someone who had a rough idea of where she stood with him. So she watched him move, test the shelf, and lean against it. He gazed down at her, and she brushed her hands over the expensive black dress, pushed an unruly curl off her shoulder.
"Whiskey out of a butterfly, first," she said with a small smile, stepping in closer to him. "which I wouldn't be averse to. I have a few things to do tonight, but I have a few hours left to be regaled. It might be a tight fit in my schedule, but you are right..."
He caught one of those metal balls in his teeth and her gut clenched, cheeks blazing to life in a completely involuntary response, breath catching half-inhaled. "I am a bit stressed. I could use a few laughs." if she could use anything else, she wasn't sure she was ready to think about it, with her heart screaming at her mind that she should flee. Jada had spent too long shoving everyone out to be considering letting someone in now, especially someone she barely knew. She had spent too long dreaming of loving a nameless, long-dead man, hoping that one day she would be 'fixed' and able to be with the living one she loved; spent so much time blaming herself for everything bad that happened to everyone she loved.
And now here she was, being a dumbass.
Still, she gravitated towards him on small, bare feet, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Unless you think they would tease you for staying behind. The delivery won't take that much longer."
Strickenized
Posted: Thu Jan 26, 2017 7:07 am
"You could come over," he offered offhandedly, "though I haven't entertained any guests in a really long time. Few years now? I'm probably rusty. I'm afraid my poledancing isn't what it used to be." Isaiah hummed thoughtfully, though mostly the action was taken to amuse himself. "I used to draw, too, which feels like it happened in another lifetime. I knew my way around charcoal, pencil, chalk pastel… Which was a lot like snorting the colors of the rainbow by the end of the day." How long had it been? And did that portion of his past still account for the person he was now?
The whiskey became her doorway to his strange realm of life, and he accepted it easily. Isaiah himself endured a strange set of circumstances that fiction could hardly account for, and explaining them to others often cause discomfort for those without his unique brand of humor. If she wanted to take the edge of first, he couldn't blame her - or refute her. He'd rather spend his days with a drink in him too.
Hazel eyes gravitated toward the way they came, and found it pleasant that he could not survey his crew from where they stood. "They know what I think of their teasing. Besides, they shouldn't complain. Most of them get paid by the hour. Besides, they've got a nice, warm house to sit about in and plenty of books around them, so long as they're careful. Really, they should be thanking you." He knew from experience that Vargas arranged the lower level of managing, so if he found them idle for too long to be appropriate, he would return to the truck and depart. He knew Isaiah was quite adept at sussing out his own rides back into town, and Isaiah doubted that Jada would refuse him this. Even if he said the wrong story or she had a change of heart, Uber would take care of him.
"So, which way to your kitchen?" Ice pushed off from his lean, and while little distance remained between them, he did not retreat to offer more space. Jada wanted to play the game, so he trusted that she would recognize her own boundaries. "The tea set was the one you asked Vargas to leave in the front room, yes? Or did that get carted elsewhere?" Who knows what they did while Jada was showing me that dusty room.
This place feels like a skeleton that couldn't possibly be filled out by a handful of people. If she can't get boarders to work, maybe she'll sell this place and move somewhere smaller. She'd save money, at least.
It took Jada a second for her brain to catch up, but when it did, her laugh was sharp and bright, eyes going wide. "I am sure you would be the best American poledancer I have seen," she said politically, "but I have yet to see an American who can keep up with the ones I saw overseas." her eyes danced. She had been so embarrassed at some of the parties and the other models had laughed at her 'rich girl naivete.' "I was never much of an artist, though. Always a model- never had any coordination for art. Fingerpainting, perhaps. Mostly music, for me." she considered him, directly. He hadn't struck her as the artist type, but maybe he should have. That was what she got for judging a book by his rather unique cover, anyways.
But she could come over, and as his eyes slid to where his crew was, Jada took the moment to consider his rather unique eyes. Green and gold, a rather fascinating combination. A pretty face. A lean frame. A personality that was open and frank, and she was curious just how far out of her comfort zone he would drag her, if she could successfully force herself to let him. Then again, she had allowed herself to be dragged out before, and look where she had wound up.
But Ice pushed off the shelf, pulling up, and her time for considering how wise the decision was... Was over. "The look on their faces looking around my house says they would rather sit in the car than indulge in a little warmth." Jada hadn't missed the disdain- she just didn't care enough to comment. She guided him into her personal space with a smile, sliding her arm through his and guiding him to another door, not passing by his staff again. Ice knew how to text. He could do it and tell them when it was time to leave.
"It is still in the main area," she agreed, and opened the door, letting him follow her to an unfamiliar hall. "But did you really want to tell me those kinds of stories in the kitchen?" her lips quirked. "I was thinking a side trip to grab the butterflies, wash a couple cups, and then I would take you back to my office, where I actually keep my alcohol." And where she wouldn't have to worry about setting the kitchen on fire if he made her blush.
She did so hope he planned to tell her such ribald tales her face caught fire. Though she would need to be careful not to let it flare too long. She had presents to wrap before everyone got back.
Strickenized
Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2017 5:27 pm
The poledancing comment received a smile. "That's alright," he said further, "I can't do much in the way of art anymore." He left his statement at that; surely she would understand the connotations. While the rich sported intellectual variety mirroring the proletariat masses, Jada came off as smart enough to read between the lines.
When she chose to hook arms, Isaiah complied to the gesture easily. "Oh, don't take it the wrong way. Matt's jealous and Shawn has a streak of irreverence in him as wide as the Mississippi. They cancel each other out." Besides, most of my crew doesn't find the chilly winters here very companionable. No one really does if they don't have a car yet have to walk through freezing rain or a snowstorm. And while it's not snowing out, it's just cold enough to make the truck seem cramped and unenjoyable. Why not stick around a fire in a library? The segue led him through old memories, where he and Sid huddled together on the stoop of old, broken houses and hoped to warm each other through waits. Waiting for rides, picking out bus fares, waiting for domestic disputes to die down… And Sid went hypothermic at least once. He wondered, then - had Jada ever experienced that disconnection from basic human needs? Would she ever?
Did the history of this house, for all its skeletal emptiness, harbor a tale of temporary loss?
Isaiah kept such thoughts to himself as he strolled with Jada, and he chose instead to gander at the empty spaces they passed. Pedestals lacking their loads, walls where paintings were meant to hang, old sitting areas standing empty of their quarry - Jada was painfully truthful about the need to furnish the area. A place like this looked like it was meant for frequent dinner parties and fundraising events. Perhaps he could convince her to host one; he never experienced a posh party before.
They looped back into the original area, where some of the boxes still sat on the floor. Each were labeled in black Sharpie - Vargas' handwriting stood out for its clinical blockiness - and waiting to be opened. Isaiah loosed his arm from hers just long enough to pull a pocket knife for the opening job. Her question begged answer before the opening, however. He cringed then, an exaggerated expression completed by sucking his teeth. "You know… Maybe not. The kitchen seems like too nice a place for that. They're probably better discussed in the broom closet. No wait, that'd probably look to nice. Maybe the a** end of a well?" He found it hard to imagine any spot on this land turning grungy enough for his idea of a good story.
While somewhat shaky in its execution, Isaiah cut the tape without damaging any of the contents. One of the styrofoam layers sported a shallow line, however. He removed the top cover and waited for her to pick the teacups for her fancy; they were each crafted uniquely, and so bore their own personalities.
She did understand the connotation- Jada's bright eyes flicked down to the stump of his arm, and she tried not to let any pity cross her face. It was a... terrifying thought. To be so wounded? And yes, there were things that could be done to mitigate it, if you had the money, but there was nothing that would fix it, or replace the things lost.
Ice complied with her linking of arms, and it was easier to shift her focus, turn her attention away from such thoughts. "It doesn't bother me," she said after a moment, giving a gentle shrug. "Though there's little enough for Matt to be jealous of." Shawn's irreverence wasn't something she hadn't handled before either, and she had more important things to worry about.
The man next to her was peering around, probably cataloguing things he might need to replace, and she settled in comfortably next to him, slowing her pace to a more leisurely stroll to give him more time to catalogue as needed. The house had used to be so full. She could still remember how proud her mother had been. The whole home had been opened for Jada's debut, and the gallery and gardens had been full to bursting. And now... it was her home, and she had nothing to furnish it with.
Now, there was less glamour and glitz to hide the signs of slight outdating to... almost everything. She needed to consider a full renovation, probably.
At last they made it back, and found the teacups; he did an admirable job of not damaging the merchandise, with a sharp knife. Bending to lift one of the cups, she paused, black curls fallen until they almost touched the floor; carefully, she considered the other cups, drawing a finger lightly over the porcelain. They really were quite lovely.More the fool who had traded them.
"I don't have a well, but I do have a larder," she said dryly, "or the broom closet, if you insist."
Strickenized
Posted: Fri Feb 10, 2017 10:20 am
"The house itself is a status symbol to him. He's of the ilk that base their personal worth in the square footage of their house." As Ice cast his gaze over the passing architecture, he considered how he best thought of this house. To him, it represented enough financial security that he could make some pretty terrible decisions in his business and still come out financially secure. The property taxes were another concern altogether.
Ice stood by and watched while she retrieved the cups. "Careful," he offered helpfully, "you might step on your hair." At a glance, Jada rather resembled the corrupted senshi sans the holes and unruly magic. He wondered, then - was she a corrupted senshi? Was it the Negaverse's holy decree that they never cut their hair as a sign of their superiority to other senshi? The magnitude of different explanations that he might similarly link to Jada nearly got away from him, and Isaiah forced himself to look upon the room for focus.
There - the butterfly cup. The porcelain swirled and stretched, stained with the barest hint of pigments. The manufacturer expressed mastery over the medium with the entire set, down to the long, delicate curves of the wings as they left their respective cup and saucer. He only needed a minute of it.
"Oh, the larder should work quite nicely. I could use all your food for props. Bananas are really informative, you know." He smiled crookedly. "And a little whiskey goes a long way in spreading information."
