SOULSUCKER

“Maybe you were into some kinky clown shit and that’s how they got all over you,” he snorted, quickly pulling one off of the male’s skin without any notice. “–I hate children. Sucks for you, I guess.” He quietly lifted his eyes and arched a brow at the mention of his name, giving the other a wry grin, “Oh, is that so? Who is your roommate? I’m happy to hear my name is getting some traction around here. Don’t get too comfortable. I’m just doing this because I think it’s funny and I feel sorry for you. I’m not a nice guy, alright?” He made his point by ripping another cotton ball off like a bandaid. “I think you just caught me at a good time. What do they call you here, anyway?”

        For the first time in two days, she walked around the facility without a scratchy black blindfold shielding her sensitive eyes The whites of her eyes were still stained red with irritation and remnants of the spray, but thankfully most of the pain had subsided.          Bailey was still adapting to the bright lights shining overhead when a voice called out to her. She turned and–oh, how thankful she was that she could see. The man before her was pretty, and so tall. It wasn’t always easy to find a cute, taller guy when she totaled in at five-foot-nine.            Even covered in ridiculous balls of cotton clouds, he was still beautiful.            It took her a moment to respond, lost in her daydream. Perhaps in her mind she, too, had been floating amongst the clouds.           “O-Oh! Sure! Not a problem!”           Closing the distance between them, she puts on a smile and tucks a strand of messy blonde hair behind her ear. She hadn’t been able to see to brush it this morning, so she hoped she looked presentable.            “You look like you got in a fight with the Easter bunny himself.” An embarrassing giggle escapes her as she plucks a cotton ball off the collar of his prison jumpsuit. “Did ya take a tumble in the dryer?“

Once the deal was confirmed, he flashed a promising smile at the other and let go of the cotton ball he was currently struggling with. “I’m not well connected, he’s just a nice guy,” He shrugged, taking a step back before cocking a brow at him, “Me? An actor? I ain’t made to look pretty onscreen, but thank you for the sentiment.” While he left the other to brew in his curiosity, Jamie left for the clinic and jogged back minutes later, pocket heavy with a little vial of solvent and, ironically, cotton balls for application. “Okay, bend over and take it off–” he couldn’t help but stifle a mutter, “Haven’t said that in months to someone.”

The way he stubbornly held onto his center of attention was amusing if not slightly concerning– but perhaps he was a performer in his past life, what with the theatrics and the small little pout when his hopeful bubble was popped. “Yeah, I’d say your best bet is the clinic. Honestly, though, I’m sort of confused as to how you got yourself into this situation but….” He looked the other up and down, as if the assess whether or not to prod any further for extra information. Nevertheless, he placed a hand on the other’s shoulder and spun him around before tugging a little on the cotton ball stuck to the back of his arm.  “Double what you owe me an’ I’ll go get some solvent for ya for free. I know one of the nurses in there an’ he won’t charge a coin for it.”

Ashley paused, looking suspiciously at the male covered in cotton balls. “Uh, sure, I guess? I don’t know about the one in your hair though. I’m not a barber, but you might have to cut that one out. Sucks for you, man.” Without a word, he carefully started picking off the colorful cotton, trying not to harm the other as he did so. “You gonna tell me how this happened, or do I have to guess? I wish I had a camera because you look ridiculous,” he snorted.

Upon coming here, he didn’t understand the significance of the nickname they gave him. Well-versed in the classics as he was, he nevertheless found it difficult to see why they would name him after the man who dared insult the gods by feeding them the flesh of his own son. His crimes had definitely been… less salacious, but he realised, with the passage of time, that they didn’t name him due to the nature of his sins, but as a cruel reminder to him of what he’d lost: instead, like Tantalus, satisfaction had eluded him, just when he thought it was nearest. How many crimes did he commit in conjunction with James? How many more would they have planned? The world was theirs—or it was supposed to be; but the world turns on its axis, and what has been given can be taken away, and so it was.

Such was life, he supposed, that he now found himself rotting in this miserable planet, a far cry from the luxury of his own, the rust and old metal a far cry from the sleek monochrome and glittering facade that decorated Jupiter. In here, everything was ancient, crumbling, broken down; in here, they were all wretched and forgotten—and how poetic it was, to meet the reason for his downfall in this place where all the damned congregated. “Good day to you too, darling,” he said, a somewhat acrid tone present in his voice. It was a far cry from their days of old. “So goes the way of the world,” he said—and shouldn’t James already know this? Naïveté wasn’t a good look… on either of them, really, and wasn’t that a surprise? Here he was, and he could choose to be honest, dare to say that he didn’t expect James ratting him out as well, confess that he presumed to think that James would have been loyal, that he’d succeeded in grooming a perfect tool for him to wield, but—

But what would be the point? A light shove against against his chest, a flutter of a contact, and Estlin could do nothing but give off a slight laugh, as if to ask did you really expect anything else? “You did that already,” he said, “more than once or twice, in fact.” A glib statement that served all that it needed to do. “Think of this as a vacation, won’t you? Rather drab and it wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I suppose it’ll help you sleep better at night besides whichever guard you chose to suck up to now that you’re here.”

He was staring– not that he’d admit to staring, but the entire situation provided better entertainment than whatever was on TV that day. Only when he decided to refill his bottle did the struggling inmate actually ask for assistance, possibly jolted by the movement nearby. Slowly, Jamie turned around and gave the other a slow look up and down.  “Did the clinic did this to you? ‘Cause I was goin’ to go get some numbing cream but if this is how they’re helping…” Jamie gave the fuzzball on his head a small tug to see just how stubborn it all was, “I dunno how you’re gonna get that out besides, you know– cuttin’ your hair.”