RUN BOY RUN !

SENTENCE MEME  ╱  CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES.

                                                                   tw : mild blood / injury, mentions of a car accident.

     ── “ yeah, yeah. ”  jace sounds disinterested, leans his head back and exhales deeply. he can’t quite tell if mazzie is simply frustrated with his fidgeting, or annoyed that he’s found him at ALL, especially in a state like this. he must be a sight, he thinks, probably appears far worse than he’s feeling--- it’d been lucky that it was dark out on his way to headquarters, easy to hide himself from stranger’s stares in the dark. the heels of his hands are raw from catching concrete, there’s a new bruise aching across his temple, and he’s bloody all along his lefthand side. it makes sense that he’d look like a fucking car wreck. some exasperation from mazzie about that fact is only fair.

he hadn’t expected to see anyone there at all, not so late. when mazzie had called out after he’d let himself inside, jace had nearly jumped at the interruption. he’d answered his what the fuck happened vaguely, with a nothing, just some trouble, as if that was anything. apparently, though, the other knows better than to expect more of a clarification, as he hasn’t yet pressed further. jace prefers it that way ; he doesn’t have much to say about any of it. it hadn’t even been an interesting sort of chaos, mostly just predictable, him evading some pissed-off pursuers with a halfhearted excitement. they hadn’t been terribly good drivers, and so he was playing into them for the sake of his own interest, acting as some lure instead of just making a run for it. so, really, it was HIS fault that it’d all come to this.

🍻  ╱  DRUNKEN CONFESSION.

     ── it’s not often mischa can convince jace to join her in a drink or two. usually he’ll call himself the designated driver and watch others get uninhibited around him, occasionally steering them into some poor choices for his own amusement or dragging them from situations when it goes too far. he’s in a good mood, though, and when she’d brought out a bottle he had no real reason to turn it away. it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the vodka mischa’d chosen was teeth-bitingly strong, and his tolerance isn’t the highest regardless, and so it’s only taken a few drinks for him to feel BLURRY. not blackout, the kind of flat-out drunk he only chases when he needs to be out of his own head, just hazy and warm and less filtered than usual.

the rest of the scene around them has quieted, the street nearly empty as the rest of the drivers had all darted off in various directions after the finish line. he’s still somewhat caught in his own adrenaline, drunk on the win and the liquor and the evening as a whole, drumming lightly on the side of that night’s car in time with the radio playing past the open windows. mischa’s sat herself on the hood and jace leans next to her, passing the bottle back to her after she asks, smiling as if he hasn’t just been caught so OFF-GUARD.  “ oh, are we close ? ”

SENTENCE MEME  ╱  SOFT ANGST.

     ── jace can’t get his head around any of it. something’s been strange about ivy, lately, a change in her presence that he doesn’t know how to handle, and it’s at its most obvious now. when he’d shown up at her door, he hadn’t been bracing himself for much conversation at ALL, let alone anything with weight, and so now it’s caught him off guard. for once he’s quiet, biting the inside of his lip as waits, uncertain how he’s meant to respond, what either of them are meant to do about it. they’re not supposed to be like this. they’re not supposed to be anything--- that’s the whole point of it.

he doesn’t even understand what’s prompted any of this, really, some argument sparking between them after he’d arrived and ivy unexpectedly cutting into it with that--- all he can do is let the aftermath of it sit uneasily between them. ivy seems angry, but not in a way he recognizes as well on her. it’s different, not the kind he’ll enjoy picking at, trying to worsen for the sake of watching her exasperation. being around ivy is often like willingly setting themselves both on fire, and yet here’s she’s a quieter kind of frustrated ; PRECARIOUS, still, but like glass instead of gasoline. if he moves too quickly something will break.

✉️  ╱  NOTE STARTERS.

     ── angry note, left on a notepad on the bedside table in mazzie’s hotel room :

next time you get fucking wasted and need a ride, maybe call someone else. i don’t know what the fuck you were talking about in the car or why you only ever get this confusing when you’re drunk, but tell it to somebody who’s not me. also, i want my jacket back when you’re sober. good luck with your hangover.

     ── worried note, left written on the back of a junk mail envelope, stuck with a magnet to mazzie’s fridge :

came by a couple times and doesn’t look like you’ve been here. hope everything’s okay, not sure where you’ve been. even ivy hasn’t heard from you--- yes, i actually asked her something, and now she won’t let me live it down, so fuck you for that. wrote my number below, should have this phone for a little longer. text me or something.

TOUCH PROMPTS  ╱  AFTER A TOUGH DAY.

     ── he doesn’t know what’s wrong. doesn’t know how to ask, either. something about her seems OFF, more muted than she usually is, demeanor clearly dampened by whatever it was that’d had her texting him to come get her at well past midnight. they’ve both come to lean on the hood of that evening’s car, a low-profile toyota with paint chipping around the seams of it for jace to pick at, occupying his restless hands. thea is quiet, has been for the time its taken to get from her place to here, and there’s not much around to break up the silence.

the convenience store parking lot is near abandoned, the two of them standing in a circle of half-burnt overhead light with everything else dark and still around them. it’d been the best he’d had to offer when he’d picked her up, a run for snacks and cigarettes and some time away from everything else, yet now in the middle of it he doesn’t know what to do with himself. jace is terrible with a STILLNESS like this one.

“ you alright ? ”  he ventures, because he should, though neither of them make much attempt to look at each other. she shrugs, and he doesn’t press further ; he wouldn’t know what to ask, anyway. uncertainly, jace reaches to touch the back of her forearm, a pointless sort of contact that’s meant to be a reassurance. they wait there, for a second, paused in place with the tentative connection between them. it’s about the best he’s got, and more than he’d USUALLY give, but thea tries with him so it’s only fair he tries in return.

“ let’s not talk about it. come on. ”  jace pats her arm once, pulls away. reaching to fish in the plastic bag beside him, he shoves past chips and gum and tiny bottles of liquor to find the pack of cigarettes, holding it in thea’s direction. she doesn’t say anything, looks at him with a brow raised, and so he flips the top of the carton himself to make the invitation unmistakable. she’s directly threatened him over the confidentiality of her shame-smokes before, demanded he never tell, and it’s a secret he can keep. it’s not as if he can JUDGE, either ; his self-destructions are a lot more frequent and a lot more volatile than a bit of ill-advised stress relief every now and then. he’s happy to help her indulge some vices, she could certainly use it.

michelangelo. what a stupid fucking name. percy had disappeared into his room almost immediately after reading the note, desperate to release. within a matter of seconds, all of the important files he had lined along his desk were slowly floating down to the ground, an awkwardly slow force juxtaposed against his instant rage. the angsty return to his room didn’t last long, however, for he practically ran back into the common room with a briefcase he had once stolen from the fbi. 

he slammed it down on the table, hard. not because it belonged there, but because he wanted to make a point. “i’m going to need to talk to all of you, one by one.” he didn’t put much effort into reading the room; he could barely focus his gaze on one person for more than five seconds. for all he knew, they could have been at each other’s throats already. percy didn’t even think of consulting with erica beforehand. he never really thought of that, come to think of it. “who’s first ? ”

     ── he doesn’t want to think about it. so long has jace been blindly enjoying the HIGHS of the heists that he hasn’t much considered the possibility of it all going south--- or perhaps he just hasn’t wanted to, purposefully skirting around the idea whenever it’d itch at him so as better sleep at night. the falsity of the diamond doesn’t bother him much, the majority of it’s value to him came from acquiring it and he’s lost interest now that it’s theirs, but the note is not so easy to ignore. hungry dogs are never loyal.

✺  ╱  MY MUSE PROTECTING YOURS FROM A SLEAZE AT THE CLUB.

     ── jace never knows what to do with himself alone at a club. everyone always crowds in to vie for a dance or a drink, neither of which he particularly cares for, and so often he just finds himself floating, scanning the crowd for something or someone of INTEREST. places such as these are too crowded for his taste, the wrong sort of chaos, and usually he’ll excuse himself after a few minutes of mingling for something better. that night, however, he isn’t so aimless ; keeping his chin craned up to look over the crowd, like holding his head above the water of a flood, he searches for mischa.

it’s meant to be a surprise. it’s been a few weeks since he’s seen her last, after chasing some whim off and following that impulse for LONGER than intended. upon finding his way back to familiarity, he’d set himself to the bratva house, boris greeting him with a curious sort of expression about him that jace has never been able to read--- either the man wants him dead or had an odd sort of affection for him. maybe both. regardless, he’d somewhat hesitantly informed jace as to where mischa had vanished for the evening, sending him off towards the club. he’s uncertain whether his sudden, unexpected appearance will be welcomed or feel to be an ambush, though it’s too late to change his mind. he’s already seen her across the space.

            MAZZIE  DOESN’T  CARE  FOR  CHALLENGES ;   he  doesn’t  care  if  someone  sees  him  as  unintelligent  or  weak  because  he  doesn’t  play  along  .   he  doesn’t  waste  his  time  playing  the  ‘ antagonizing  game ’  back  and  forth  when  he  can  be  doing  something  much  more  productive  .   he  should  probably  get  up  and  walk  away  like  he  usually  would  after  a  comment  like  that  ,   but  he  only  rolls  his  eyes  .   he’s  a  little  annoyed  at  being  interrupted  from  his  reading  ,   especially  by  someone  he  thought  wouldn’t  go  to  the  trouble  of  talking  to  him  —  it’s  not  that  they  don’t  ever  speak  to  each  other  ,   but  it’s  usually  just  a  few  muttered  words  before  they  leave  each  other  alone ;   they’re  not  friends  ,   they’re  not  enemies  ,   and  they  shouldn’t  pretend  to  be  either  —  but  what  the  hell  ?

his  nose  scrunches  up  in  a  look  of  disgust  ,   but  the  twitchy  start  of  a  smirk  suggests  he  feels  otherwise  .   he  scoffs  and  crosses  his  arms  over  his  chest  ,   keeping  his  eyes  on  the  book  still  open  in  his  lap  .   he  isn’t  sure  ,   for  a  few  moments  ,   whether  he  should  bother  to  give  a  reply  .   he  really  doesn’t  like  playing  any  games  other  than  chess  ,   and  even  then  ,   he  doesn’t  have  to  wrack  his  brain  for  a  reply  that  wouldn’t  completely  rid  him  of  his  dignity  .   although  ,   he  hasn’t  cared  about  being  worthy  of  honor  or  respect  for  quite  some  time  ,   so  he  decides  to  open  his  mouth  and  side - eye  the  runaway  driver  after  little  more  thought  .

“  it’s  not  stealing  if  you  don’t  get  caught  .   if  you’re  a  good  enough  liar  ,   you  can  pretend  to  be  a  paying  guest  .  ”   the  smirk  rises  without  conscious  volition  ,   a  stark  contrast  to  the  little  to  no  emotion  in  his  voice  ,   but  he’s  able  to  quickly  force  it  back  down  to  a  neutral  expression  .   he  still  REFUSES  to  look  up  ,   but  he  watches  jace  from  his  peripheral  more  than  he  tries  to  focus  back  on  reading  .   he  tries  to  beat  down  the  part  of  him  that  actually  cares  about  this  ridiculous  conversation  and  how  jace  reacts  ,   how  he’s  talking  to  mazzie  like  this  at  all  when  they  usually  barely  acknowledge  each  other  ,   if  AT  ALL  .

it  doesn’t  work  out  so  well  ,   and  he  finally  looks  up  .

“  ‘you  really  wanna  talk  about  stealing  from  hotel  buffets  ?   you’re  even  shittier  at  human  interaction  that  i  am  .  ”   he  can’t  stop  the  words  from  pouring  out  ,   a  means  to  try  and  get  jace  away  from  him  even  though  he  honestly  doesn’t  mind  his  presence  anymore  .   jace  is  usually just  a  GHOST  ,   and  maybe  it  irks  mazzie  ,   but  at  least  he  doesn’t  have  to  try  to  be  human  around  him  .   now  is  different  ,   and  mazzie’s  never  really  liked  a  difference  in  his   (  mostly  )   small - talk - casual - socializing - free  routine  .

     ── part of him had expected mazzie to excuse himself the moment jace had opened his mouth. he doesn’t know WHY he’s started the conversation, exactly, though that isn’t rare ; often his decisions are a surprise to himself, chasing reactions instead of dwelling on intentions. it’s just uncertain what result he hopes for, now. an understanding, perhaps. a hint to his thinking. mazzie is difficult to decipher, only ever responding to him in slight shifts of expression or tone, and jace is no good with subtleties.

jace is an unknown, happily so, though can’t say the same for most anyone else. he prefers the variable in his life to be himself, mysteries often enjoyed when he’s the one who knows the answer, can toy with it for his own amusement. and yet he doesn’t GET mazzie, why he’s doing what he does. when they’re both at his place, he moves around jace like he’s more tangible than he is, careful not to draw attention while still painfully aware of the presence, a rock in the river that he makes a current around. like if mazzie doesn’t look at him for too long, or speak between them, he can pretend he’s not there. for the most part, jace benefits from such handling, makes it easy for him to enter and exit as he pleases without consequence. but he doesn’t know what mazzie gets out of it. he knows well, by now, how things work--- the world is a push-and-pull of debts and repayment, and surely mazzie wants something in return. jace has just yet to discover what that MOTIVE is.

in something of a surprise, mazzie gives, slightly, at least offers an answer to jace’s digressing instead of ignoring him outright. he shrugs like it’s all commonplace, pauses as if giving himself time to think the comment over.  “ mm, i guess. but i say it’s not stealing if i want something more than they do, caught or not. that’s just--- making things FAIR. ”  this isn’t a new ideology for him, and yet jace smiles, an act like he’s confessed something.  “ and i’m a great liar, in case you were wondering. but it’s less effort to just take stuff. ”  for emphasis, he points the last bit of bagel in mazzie’s direction, making an example of it before finishing it off.