Jackson Raines

“Ah, no, don’t worry about it, I’m overdressed.” The person in the office who’d been sent the invite, in their enthusiasm to help out universities, had been slightly OTT in their explanation of how the party’s MPs should dress for the event.

“I’m a soldier with the Royal Welsh Infantry,” Kendrick replied, before shrugging a bit at the comment about money. “Then I must be rich by society standards, because I’m hardly ever home.” Shaking Jackson’s hand in greeting, he replied in kind. “I thought nothing of it. I’m Kendrick.” Leaning back in his chair, Kendrick continued, saying, “For the next few weeks, I’ll be at Guildhall every day, 8AM to 12PM. You can stop by with the book there whenever you’re free, and we can iron out the details then.”

“Well, I did not expect that,” he laughed and then nodded. “I take it that you enjoy it immensely? You don’t seem like you hate it.” Which was rare for him to come across honestly. “Pleasure Kendrick and I will definitely stop by and bring the poor book with me. Any other reading recommendations since it seems we have similar taste?”

“I hope I have, considering I have to keep my library of books in good shape for the amount of time I’m away from them due to work. Luckily, the people that rent my home are trustworthy. Haven’t had any incidents so far.” Placing a bookmark where he’d ceased reading, Kendrick set his own book on the table to give his complete attention to the man sitting across from him. “If you like, I can see about repairing the book for you. You still have the loose pages?”

“What’s your line of work? Businessman? Or something else?” He knew that Dimka went away sometimes for work, never knew about people in London, or anywhere really. But if Kendrick was into what Dimka was, Jackson would know. He made it a point to know. “I hear some people make a killing with renting their houses out while they’re away.” Straightening up though at the offer to look at it, he nodded. “Yeah, I put the book into a ziplock bag that I hole punched so it wasn’t in a confined space. The pages were shoved in there,” he nodded. “I’d be...that would be really nice of you to do that, I’d appreciate it. That book went through a lot with me.” Holding out his hand for Kendrick, Jackson offered a small smile. “Sorry, pardon the rudeness. I’m Jackson.”

“The room the book is kept in, is it well ventilated,” Kendrick questioned, his mind conjuring up at least five causes for the book falling apart that didn’t include actual use. “It’s just, my dad restored books as a hobby and he let me watch when he worked. A properly made book should never fall apart from being read, because that is what’s intended for it in the long run.”

“Mmm, yes, it did go into a crate to travel back home due to a death in the family and me needing to stay up there for a bit but other than that I’ve taken rather good care of it. I did get it from a used bookstore though so I can’t speak of how well it was taken care of before hand. Really?” He took a sip of his coffee and then tilted his head. “That’s a good hobby to have, clearly you learned a lot from it.”

Kendrick had figured that talking wouldn’t happen; they’d both just sit at the same table and do their own thing, so when the man commented that he liked the book Kendrick was reading, Kendrick looked back up at the guy in surprise. Not because the man had talked to him after sitting, but because of what he’d said. None of Kendrick’s friends in the Infantry could get through half of the book, let alone consider it worthy of having it as a favourite. For some random person to be in that very cafe at the same time as Kendrick, sit at the same table, and actually like the book he was reading was enough to make Kendrick speechless. Knowing he must look ridiculous, Kendrick regained his composure enough to utter in agreement, “Y-yeah, same here. It’s a really good read.”

Jackson didn’t usually talk to strangers, mostly because he was still looking over his shoulder and trying to figure out if someone was watching him and he might be putting the other person in danger. Harley always told him he was a paranoid fucker and needed to relax, she was right of course, Harley was right about a lot of things. He thought he said something wrong of course, maybe Kendrick hated the book and thought Jackson was nuts for liking it. “Yeah, I’ve read it so many times I had to buy a new copy cause the binding cracked and I was starting to have pages fall out of it.”

It was still just a tiny bit weird for Kendrick, being able to concentrate better when surrounded by noise. He stopped trying to fix it after a couple of years of realising the oddity and grew to embrace it, although not fully. Like today, he was sat in almost the very centre of a cafe, surrounded by chatter that meant nothing to him, reading one of his favourite books. Despite having read The Hitchhiker’s Guide a handful of times, it never failed to intrigue him, which was why he didn’t notice the guy who was talking to him at first. When he did, he jumped slightly, looking up sheepishly. “Sorry. No, that’s fine. No one’s sitting there, and I’m nearly done anyway. It’s all yours.”

Jackson was grateful that the male didn’t bark at him, which was usually the case most of the time when you really had to intrude on someone’s little spot. Jackson smiled, sitting down and setting his coffee on the near edge so it didn’t get in anyone’s way as he pulled out his tablet to start work. “Thanks, mate.” Jackson glanced at the book, giving a half smile. “One of my favorites,” he nodded towards the book, his hair falling back into his face again.

“You’re fine, sugarplum! I just wasn’t expecting anyone, that’s all!” She laughed softly, a sweet practiced little giggle. “Oh, no, you’re fine! I prick my fingers all the time, anyways, it wouldn’t be nothing terrible. Do you need some more room for your computer? I’m just finishing up this commission.”

“Yeah,I wouldn’t intrude but the place is pretty packed right now and I’d rather sit here than say over there with the big guy that looks like he wants to kick everyone’ ass.” Looking down at his computer, he shook his head. “Nah, that’s alright Miss, it’s small enough for my lap,” glancing at what she was working on, he finally looked up at her. “Commission? You a seamstress for a living?”

Lorelei had been intently focused on the embroidery in front of her, tuning out the cafe to get it finished. She started as she heard Jackson, abruptly dropping it onto the table. “Jesus Christ on a cross!” Putting her hand to her heart, she took a breath. “Goodness, you scared the daylights outta me!” What did he want? Why was he here? “Oh, of course, go ahead and sit! I’ll…” Leaning forward, she pulled everything a little closer to her to give him room to set his drink down. “There!”

Jackson almost immediately felt bad when she seemed to startle and actually winced. That wasn’t his intention at all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t -” he stopped and took a deep breath, just sat down in the empty chair, setting his chai tea down in the spot and opened his bag to take out his netbook, settling it into his lap and turning it on. “Thank you. You didn’t prick yourself or anything did you?”

“What th’fuck kinda name is ‘jumparoo’?” Dimka sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t get this parent shit, luchik.”

“A stupid one?” Jackson grinned and shrugged. “My friend had one for her baby. And of course you don’t get it. You’re not a parent yet. How is the mother to be? Has she hit the hormonal stage yet?”

Nodding, Lucky finished typing his tweet, resting his chin on Jackson’s shoulder. “And… there!” He said, pressing post. “Prepare for loads of new followers. Hazard of the trade, I’m afraid.” He shot Jackson a smile reserved usually for people he was attempting to charm. “Oh, aren’t you sweet? Are you really gonna get onto your knees on the T, though? I didn’t peg you for an exhibitionist.”

"They'll unfollow me when they realize I'm a boring tattoo'd white boy that likes to take pics with his shirt off," Jackson laughed - but it was true. His insta was really just a place to goof off and poke fun at himself. "Are you going to follow me? Because, that would be something like my birthday and Christmas all wrapped into one." Please, Lucky didn't have to do anything to charm Jackson. Fanboy of London here in his lap. Jackson coughed, turning a little darker shade of red before he squirmed in Lucky's lap, pressing down against the other slightly before shrugging. "Never given one, so I couldn't even promise it'd be worth your while, but for the record," he leaned in and whispered in Lucky's ear. "There's places near the back where it'd be easy to go down on someone and it wouldn't be seen."