#(ic.) jack

In fact, he turns to her after what surely must be only a couple of seconds, and exclaims, ❝ you know what i think this is. a chocolate coin. a coin made of chocolate. wrapped in aluminum. it's a damned candy, jack! ❞

chal is awkward and quiet and very justice driven im afraid. crimes are only allowed in small doses and for a good cause.

lucky ladies bingo ( always accepting ) / @altruprism

for talya to answer !

@proditeur / let the girlies answer for me ( accepting )

☀ Does the mun listen to you while writing or not? - Jack

" She has to listen to me. Isn't that the way this shit works? " Conveniently, she neglects to mention that for all her talk of logic and planning ahead, she can't help but follow her impulses, tossing aside any attempted plans or speeches. So is there any other choice but to listen to her? And, we can't forget how if she feels ignored, well, she can get quite noisy for a thief.

🌙 Does the mun stay up long or goes to bed early? - Talya

Her initial smile can't be helped or hidden. It's soft around the edges, as she admires the way the blossom sits against his dark hair and glasses. Her fingers twitch with the urge to reach out again in a more intimate gesture and Jack laces them together to avoid her worst impulses.

Though, if she's being honest, she's already succumbed to them, and the flower tucked behind his ear is clear, and possibly illegal, evidence of that. But really, who is going to miss a single blossom off of a shop's garland? Weren't they made anyway for moments like this anyway? For gestures as sweet as the flower's fragrance and gentle smiles?

Aiden's sudden display of vanity distracts her from studying his features and turns her grin teasing. Jack makes a show of rolling her eyes and playfully shoves his shoulder. " You're friendly to me now. I can't say the same for when we met, malevolent spirit or not. Face it, you have a grumpy kind of charm. "

He removes the flower and she watches the petals snag momentarily on his hair. When returns it to her hand, his touch lingers, just long enough for her mind to read too far into the gesture. Jack tries to ignore it, along with the quick skip of hear heart. " Are you sure? I st-... brought it for you. I can leave it in your office, if you'd like. "

Her bag hits the tile with a dull thud and despite the pain, Jack manages to hint at annoyance past the grit in her teeth. " Be careful with that, I went through a lot of effort to get it. I mean, I literally got shot for it. " The joke isn't funny with her wound still bleeding, but she tries for a smile anyway. It comes out as a grimace.

The bullet is deep in her shoulder and for a doctor, Aiden's touch is not gentle or light. Jack feels his fingers press hard. The pain is immediate. Sharp. Blinding. The tears fall despite her best efforts and a quiet whimper slips past her lips. She locks her jaw in response, unwilling to let him bear witness to another moment of her weakness.

God only knows what he'll think of her then. What he thinks of her now.

Well, what he thinks of her now can't be great. And frankly, she can feel him seething, perhaps an effect of their proximity, along with the nauseating dizziness that keeps her head spinning. Maybe it's his anger making her sick, or the possibility that he thinks she's a goddamn idiot, dumb enough to get shot on a supposedly easy job. Jack isn't sure what's worse, Aiden finding her pathetic or stupid.

She's so caught up in her own spiral that his apology leaves her shocked and open. " It's not your fault, " Jack says quickly, meeting his eyes. The tears are still falling from hers. " There were more guards on duty than we thought and I... I should have adjusted for it. It was sloppy of me. "

He deflects quickly, if not tactfully, and once again Jack feels the sharp sting of his rejection. She's careful not to show her hurt, instead tipping her chair a little too far back, keeping it balanced on two legs, watching him stir the antidote or potion or whatever the hell it is they're supposed to be brewing.

The hurt leaks through anyway in her reply, her tone as cutting as his. " A normal one? God, lighten up, it's not like I asked you to name every relationship you've ever been in. I was just... curious. You know even business partners talk about these things. "

Aiden never lets her in close. In fact, he's very careful not to, always dodging her questions, reluctant to share any shred of himself. The little that she's gleaned has been through scraps, seeing glimpses of his world in the physical spaces he's allowed her in to, like the drum kit in the corner of his living room. And as easy as it would be to pry, as tempting as it is too, Jack has never let her light fingers wander into any of his personal effects. Maybe it's because what she truly wants is for him to tell her himself.

So she takes a breath and waits, not hopeful but wishing she could be, watching the smile turn the corners of his mouth. Though it's obviously faked judging by how quickly he'd snapped at her a moment ago. " Bullshit, " she counters, forcing her tone to lighten. " If you're going to lie, you might want to try something that sounds plausible. "

Her accidentally eyes wander to the potion and something about the steam or the smell or the small room brings up the impression of a memory. Jack unconsciously touches the pin in her hair, her silence soft, mournful. The next words spill out, like the liquid in the cauldron bubbling over, and all she can do is regret the vulnerability.

Jack is reluctant to part with the hairpin, but she hands it over anyway, fingers momentarily lingering on the metal. She watches as Aiden turns it over, examining it closely in the light. The silver winks and for an instant, she sees a blurry face and a sharp smile, feels the point of the pin press lightly into her palm. The crackle of the fire dispels the mirage and Jack once again finds herself missing some nameless memory. She sighs and takes back the hairpin, tucking it deep into the inner pocket of her jacket.

" Is possession your area of expertise then? " She asks, eager now to change the subject. The vulnerability is making her itch. " Or selective amnesia? "

The mention of the nuno makes her wince as other images now flash before her eyes. There is moss after a warm rain, rigid stone beneath her skin, the shrine below a starry sky. For a spirit known for taking, it had certainly left a few things behind. Though, perhaps that was Jack's own doing and she had stolen some part of it, like it had attempted to do to her.