did she really just say that to him? elias has no patience for this. not today. “are you sure about that?” he KNOWS that isla is not someone to have connections and frankly he is not either. friends is just a term elias’ uses to taunt people anyway. he wouldn’t know the meaning of the word even if it bit him in the ass. still, he has considered the woman standing in front of him as being the closest thing to a friend he has. her WORDS would have been hurtful if he had any feelings to spare. “fine - if you’re not my friend then you’re nothing.” he adds, walking past her and picking up the shovel. “i don’t take orders from you, marshall.” his voice isn’t exactly harsh, but surprisingly CASUAL. still, he means what he says. he’s not one of those people she has wrapped around her finger. “if you start walking now you’ll might make it by morning.” as he talks he starts to throw dirt back in the hole to cover the body they he had just buried. 

he watches her while she patches him up and he swears he sees guilt on her face. hell, she even apologises and it almost floors him. his eyes move over her face and he takes in everything, wishing he could convince himself that her guilt wasn’t only aimed at him. it would make forgiving her so much easier if he was the only one she had to feel guilty about. but no matter how much she apologises or how guilty she looks, he can’t forget that emma and rebecca were the real victims in all this. and he doubts isla feels as guilty about them as she does about him. shaking his head, jett looks down and stays silent as she fixes him up. he does everything he can to avoid looking at her, knowing that if he looks at her any longer he’ll crumble and hold onto her and assure her that everything is okay. he never could stand to see her upset. a quiet thanks passes his lips when she’s done and he’s laying there with a blanket over him and a dog curled up in his bed by jett’s side. this is weird. is he staying here? should he leave? he doesn’t have a fucking clue. instead, he focuses on petting dagger and after a moment, he makes the mistake of looking up at isla’s face and reminding himself of the emotion there. “i killed him,” jett blurts out, voice small and quiet like he’s doing everything in his power to hide emotion of his own. “the guy that did it. i found him.” he isn’t sure why he’s saying all of this but something about isla’s reaction makes him want to talk about things. “didn’t make me feel any better. so i thought that if i found you and killed you, that would be it. that it would somehow… make up for them being gone.” there’s a long pause and jett does everything he can to keep his gaze on dagger and away from isla. “can’t do it. i should, but…i can’t.”

          she’s hitting all his nerves, but his impulses aren’t taking over. feels like he’s back in school, anger vibrating through him, but not idea how to show it. “well obviously you’re one of the discarded ones, the defective one.” he decides to try and hurt her with words rather fists.

“Ugh.” She hung up the phone with her mother and took out her headphones, rolling her eyes at the exchange that had taken place. Obviously her mother didn’t understand what she was doing all the way out here and not at home and Ellie couldn’t tell anyone and she felt stuck. “Guess I’ll deal with that some other time.” She muttered, walking back through to the front of the bar. “Sorry for the wait, what can I get you?”

he can see it. her face twisting into a SNARL. anger crawling up her spine and exploding in her eyes. he rarely gets this irate with people but isla holds that special place in his cold HEART. specially in situations like this when he ends up cleaning after her. ok, so this was their mess but still. “a medal would be nice. pathetic? seriously? i happen to be awesome so get your facts checked. i think all that blood lust in FUCKING up with your head.” he snorts, acting like her words were inconsequential. he watched her as she pulls the body out of the car and drags him towards the grave. heels and all. she looks ridiculous. “im sorry you are such an emotional wreck and so easy to aggravate. maybe you should work on that, huh?” he places his foot over the body and kicks it in. “because - and im telling you this as YOUR friend - its not a good look for you.”

          the town is tricky, can’t do his job without the possibility of getting him and his family killed. “technically what i’m doing is against the rules.” his eyes flicker to her before he’s pulling out and driving away. “need to make sure nobody dies.” needed to make sure that some poor traveler doesn’t end up in the towns grasp.  

he found her defiance amusing, but wasn’t concerned he knew she’d cave easily. she always did. she almost seemed to enjoy this little game of hers, and it brought him a sick kind of pleasure. “oh no, princess. tonight, you’re mine.” he purred, hooking a finger under her chin and turning her head to face him. he leaned in dangerously close, his eyes flicking to her mouth for a moment before meeting her eyes. “you can come with me now, or i can take you right here in front of everyone.”

as soon as dagger gets up and starts to lick his hand, his spirits are lifted and a smile starts to spread across his face. his attentions turns solely to the dog and he turns his hand, lifting it to pet dagger affectionately. “thanks, buddy,” he says softly, flashing a grin at the dog despite how much it hurts his beaten face. his old nickname reaches his ears and he looks back at isla, smile faltering just a little bit. he hasn’t heard that nickname in years. ( oddly enough, it’s actually nice ). he’s caught completely off guard, however, and it takes him a moment to remember to speak. “i’m not lying,” jett answers, glancing back at dagger and giving him one more scratch between the ears before he reaches for the bottle again. not the smartest idea to drink his way through this but what the hell. his arm is still positioned strategically to keep his scars covered. mainly the bullet wound on his torso that has a matching scar on his back from the exit wound. not only are they horrible to look at but they serve as a physical reminder of that day. as if the mental scars weren’t enough already. blue eyes land on the hand resting on his arm and he stares at it knowing that if he looks up at her now, he’ll give in. still, he sighs, debates it for a second and shifts his arm slightly so that he’s no longer covering himself up. let her see. maybe if she sees what she caused, she’ll feel just the slightest fraction of the pain he feels. maybe. “not so hot, is it?” he asks, remembering what she had said when he had first shown up at her house. hot scar… it was fucking hideous. nothing more than a reminder that, for some reason, he had lived while his family had died.