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 Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 10:09 pm
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"So it's just ... there ...?" she asked one more time, turning the knob on her door and ushering him in by walking backwards. She hadn't taken her eyes off the scar; could you blame her? It was so different, so stark against the usual Jack contrast.
But it wasn't a malicious look, especially not when she paused after Jack shut the door behind them. It was something soft, interested rather than repulsed or attracted. Both her hands neatly slid to his fingertips. She wasn't sure what Jack wanted at the moment, and was giving him the option (as always) to choose. "Owain can't do nothin' for it?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 10:31 pm
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There had been a subtle agitation in his motions since Chel hugged him in the infirmary, a mixture of discomfort with his new scar, a need to scrub himself off more than he could have in the makeshift camp, and, strangely, both an uncertainty at being touched and a need to be. He didn't like the way she looked at him--or, well, that she was giving the scar so much attention. Jack wondered if this was how she felt when she had first acquired hers. None of this was helped by Owain's distress over being incapable of healing it; maybe some of Jack's perfectionism had rubbed off, or more likely, the implication of an unfinished wound festering rubbed his bark the wrong way.
"No," he replied. Tired and in need of a multi-shower cleansing he knew wouldn't satisfy him, Jack mechanically nudged the door closed behind them with his foot. "Going to use your shower again. You still have those hotel robes?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 10:36 pm
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"Condolences to the big guy then. He must be ********' bonkers now." She leaned back on her heels, somewhat amused that Tenebrae would have been nothing short of creating a conga line in celebration if she was given a wound that wouldn't heal over. He'd create it himself if he could.
Chel could feel Jack ebbing away and she respected the space if not leaking worry from every orifice. She'd gotten such sparse details-
There was infection, people got infected and turned into things. Hunters got infected and turned on other hunters.
The usual levels of ******** the unknown was making her cringe. "'Course I do. Wouldn't trade 'em for nothin'. They're on the floor ... maybe the sink. Don't really remember." She'd moved a few steps away from him, slinking towards her bed to give him even more space. "I'll be here when yer done."
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 10:49 pm
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"He's not happy, no." Neither was Jack, judging from the lack of sarcasm in his statement and his lack of a commentary about Chel's messiness. Or maybe he was too tired to bother. He searched around and eventually confiscated a set of robes off the floor, already mentally somewhere else by the time he closed the bathroom door. Just as mindlessly he disrobed, tossed the itchy pieces of crap clothes in the sink, pausing only when he remembered he could look at the scar himself.
He stared at his reflection, stretching the skin and watching it warp and stretch. It felt a little surreal, like another clone was trapped and able to mimic his exact movements. But then, he thought wryly, clones didn't have to worry about s**t like scars. It was nasty looking either way, and Owain expressed his deepest apologies despite knowing it meant little. There was nothing either of them could do now.
Twenty minutes later, after a heavy amount of soap, shampoo, and conditioner had been used, he emerged with the robes on and a towel around his shoulder to catch what dripped off his hair. His skin overall was an angry pink from the scrubbing, but none of it came close to the hue of his scar. (And none of it came close to clean.)
"I'll buy you new bottles," he promised as he wrung his hair out again. The shower had helped his temper a little; at least he didn't look so wound up. "Want the story now or later?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 10:56 pm
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Chel had since kicked off her shoes, turned on her music and laid herself flat on the bed for the entirety of the shower. Pants were lost of course, but surprisingly replaced by a pair of shorts rather than the usual bottomlessness.
She waved a hand at his insistence to buy new soaps (when would she ever ask something like that of him?) and gestured him closer. "I want you over here not lookin' so pissed." The story could come before or after.
Muse was playing over the room softly and it seemed a damn shame to waste it.
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 11:03 pm
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She got three-quarters of her wish: Jack walked over and crawled onto the space by her, but while he wasn't outwardly angry anymore, he had been replaying parts of the mission enough to induce a contemplative mood that was dangerously close to brooding. His skin tingled, and he scratched around the scar with a small face.
"b*****d couldn't have gotten me somewhere less...I don't ******** know, public?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 11:08 pm
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There was a distinct pause between Jack's comment and her response. The delay came as Chel mulled over her responses. He wanted less public scars? He did?
"I'm sure it'll heal over man. There's nothin' Owain can't fix." She turned on her side to brush the hair near his neck gently, neither organizing it nor messing it up. "An' even f'he doesn't," her voice dropped to an affectionate murmur reserved for picking up innocent girls and brooding boyfriends, "I think it looks good on you."
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 11:23 pm
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He made a noncommittal sound at the compliment, thought at least that was several steps up from a dismissive scoff. The tilt of his brows suggested he didn't agree, though. "Finn's hasn't healed over," Jack said. "We have the same infection as far as I know." Clones, red eye, and now this--it was like trading one bomb bracelet for another.
The comparison seemed to weigh him down. There were few things that could bother Jack like this, but feeling like a time bomb, a possible liability, was one of them. It honestly didn't help that he had felt a savage pleasure in trying to hurt Peyton while in the midst of his mindless hunt; that violent urge was supposed to be separate from all else. Was that connected to the disease, or was he honestly that obsessed with ending her?
"I should have been more careful," he said with a sigh. "When I was there I wished you had come, but now I'm honestly glad you didn't. You've been through enough s**t lately."
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 11:30 pm
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She gave Jack a decided look.
"M'sorry what was that? 'Cause it sounded like you were beatin' yerself up." She had a facetious air about her as she played with the pillowcase under her shoulder. "Couldn't be that though. Since you just came back from killing a ********' titan."
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 11:36 pm
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"Not the big boss one. The one that kept hitting the barricade I helped with yeah, the second or ******** third time, I don't remember the count because it kept respawning--" He exhaled audibly and ran a hand over his face to vent that inner agitation, as drawn to stretch the scar and feel unpleasant sensations radiate along the nerves as her eyes had been to examine it. "Spent my time slapping bandages everywhere. Guess it was just such a different change of pace, you know, from Athens and China." From running around with a sword to running around patching people up.
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Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 11:49 pm
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Chel blinked, obviously awed as Jack talked about killing a titan not once, but defeating multiple titans. She would always look at Jack like he owned the stars, but it helped now that he had a kickass story to go with it.
"Yeah, but everyone you slapped bandaids on got a hit in. So s'like you got a bunch of hits through them." It was a rather roundabout way of thinking, but Chel had a knack for making things more confusing than they needed to be. "S'what lifers do to keep this place chuggin'."
She considered for a moment the number of times she'd talked through a mission with Chris or with Jack (mostly with Chris, sparsely with Jack) while they filled out her mission report in her stead. Although she didn't know if it would work with Jack (Chel was definitely more the one who would resolve things through idle chatter), she offered, "You wanna talk me through what happened?" Not talk about it, because that was sensitive and pharmaceutical. Better it sound like a recap for her.
Chel didn't intend to stay for the story though, as she was already getting up to rummage around for an ice pack.
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Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2015 12:05 am
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"I know that," Jack replied pointedly. It felt like too much to explain about something so simple--that healing people didn't give him nearly the thrill that attacking did, that one was associated with work and the other with pleasure and that he needed to keep things separated in the subcategories of the latter, that in the end it was just so stupid because he shouldn't have gotten infected in the first place. Everything had mixed up unnecessarily in just one moment, and he wanted nothing more than to tear the tangle out and throw it in the trash.
He took a breath and sighed. As Chel moved about, he explained what parts of the mission he had been the most active on: how he had followed a blood trail to a bitten girl and used a net gun (he had been cleared to use it for the mission, he explained, though he still needed to do the course proper) to bring her back to Rep's HQ on the ice rink, had helped fortify the camp by carving uruz (not a particularly good one either, as he had little practice with the stuff), and had gotten infected after landing the killing blow on the barricade abomination.
"After that, I just sort of slunk away from camp," Jack went on more tiredly. Sometime in the midst of recap, he had spread the towel against her pillows and laid against them. "You remember the symptoms from the infection on that last mission? Paranoia? I had that until I turned, and then," he shrugged, "next thing I know, I'm with Finn hitting Peyton." Still factual, not the least bit guilty. "When I found my senses again, I ran back to camp and started patching up people fighting the big one. Managed to get through the portal before the floor collapsed."
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Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2015 9:21 am
Marked for good
Chel listened intently, occasionally offering a small comment ("that's awesome" "holy s**t"). For the most part she was focused on the ice pack. While he talked she gentle maneuvered the ice pack onto his skin. When he shirked away she rolled her eyes and set it on the bed beside him to do what he wanted with it. Pain pills were also tossed his way (the last time she went to the store she'd bought a costco sized stockpile. Thus seemed the trend), and afterward she set to making mac and cheese straight from a box (because sometimes Chel was lazy too).
There was a clear seize of her body when he talked about beserking, but she gripped the counter and forced herself to push it down.
"Sounds like hell. Glad you made it back man." Which was to say many things; I was afraid of losing you and if you want to talk... were among them. Chel had always been bad at communicating her concerns and qualms. She was much better at communicating with actions.
She dumped the entire pot of pasta into a single bowl and threw two forks in it. Worldlessly she slid beside him on the bed and offered the bowl. "Hungry?"
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Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2015 9:39 am
Marked for Good
He made a soft sound as he made a half hearted attempt to get up. Jack made it halfway there, propping one of his arms up behind him. "Not really," he answered, his stomach still churning somewhat from the day's events. "Thanks, though."
After a pause, he added, "We should talk plans for when this infection crops up again." Remembering the way she had seized, he moved to slip an arm around her, or at the very least make contact. "Later, I mean." For now he wanted to just lie on the bed next to Chel and feed off her warmth while try to ignore the little tugs that now happened with every other word and expression made thanks to that scar.
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Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2015 9:53 am
Marked for good
Chel had to laugh at how gangly Jack looked spread out across the bed and mixed between the sheets and her waist. She leaned over to kiss his forehead before stroking his hair a few times. It was always humanizing to remember Jack wasn't a god.
She dug into the mac and cheese shortly after, because she'd mostly made it for herself with Jack's stomach as a side note.
"Plans are boring," she whined between bites. A hand went to pat his head. "Just chill out for now man." Or forever, since she wanted to avoid plans. "You're safe. Take a break."
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