#madeofflint

@madeofflint

Calixto had done business with Scrooge as one of his more...unsavory connections that wasn't really made public. With the man's international crime family, Calixto was interested in the amount of acquisitions that Scrooge was making, especially since the infamous Marley had died. He decided to target the miser, buying the failing businesses before Scrooge could with more generous offers, garnering better reputation than him, and even enticing young Mr. Cratchit with a job offer right in front of him. So here they were, in Scrooge's office, alone since the only employee left to think about it.

"Are you sure? Time can be cruel to those who underestimate it." Calixto was at the low fire that barely heated up the space. He ran a finger on the mantle, dust coating his glove. Yet there was the presence of something else there, getting ready to arrive. It was December and the winter was harsh, but all the suffering was tempered by the approaching Christmas holiday. A time when certain spirits would be at their strongest.

"The way we treat our business can be seen here in the fire." Calixto squatted and put his hand over the barely warm coals. "You starve it, make it work even if it calls for more attention and resources and thus, this is the result you get." He pulled a piece of blank paper from his coat. "When you give it what it needs, it can grow to exponential strengths," he said before placing the paper on top. Now with his ability, he touched the paper turned kindling and lit everything with his fingers alone. A roaring fire was born, likely for the first time in ages inside this common area.

Kharon hums gently, fingers turning the page in his book before his attention is turned to the other who came into the shop. His amber eyes moves around him for a short momnet, their soul was rather chaotic and shifty, leaving Kharon intrigued. Setting his book in his lap he waits to see if they would grab their food to go or if they might stay.

SHINY NEW ICONS BY JAGAL FOR ME AND @madeofflint

“I know you intended that as an insult, but the fact that you would name anything I gave to you, even an ulcer, is awfully sweet of you. I might just get the impression you’re fond of me or something ludicrous like that.”

“You have a wonderful talent for turning insults into compliments, Jacob,” Scrooge snorted. “A skill that thoroughly benefits yourself and makes the person who maligned you feel amazingly foolish. I’m sure you’ll be present at the Doctor’s when that day comes–the father isn’t usually present for delivery but you’re not one for tradition.” He bit the inside of his lip briefly, actually taking the time to plan his words before he made an even bigger ass of himself. “This fool was actually quite worried about you, if you’ll pardon my being sincere.” He fixed his gaze determinedly on a far part of the wall, his voice getting softer. “Very worried, indeed.”

Scrooge had never been much endeared to casual physical contact, or any unnecessary contact at all. The filthy caress of a stranger’s hand made him…wary, at best. Even as an adolescent, he’d never really gravitated towards any sports that required rough-and-tumble forms of touch…nor any sports at all. Rugby club was far outside his sphere of awareness and so the idea of being around other lads in anything but the most formal of settings was an entirely alien concept. Even in the dormitories, he’d kept to himself.

His new friend, however, seemed to consider it his duty to touch Scrooge whenever possible. An arm draped across his shoulders, an affectionate nudge, a pat on the back…every time accompanied by a lighting-like twinge, an odd feeling in Scrooge’s stomach that he couldn’t put into words. He’d thought of grousing at him to knock it off–Scrooge had even physically startled the first few times–but then, in addition to calling attention to himself, there was the threat that Jacob might actually stop, and Scrooge simply wasn’t sure that he could bear it.

So, when one evening while working beside each other at Fezziwig’s, Jacob’s stray hand found its way to Scrooge’s thigh, Scrooge didn’t have it within him to move, or shift, or tell him off. Instead, he found himself moving a hair closer to him on the bench, enjoying the pleasant warmth radiating from his hand.

In all honesty, Jacob didn’t think too much one way or the other about the touches. He was like that with most people after all, finding that a hand on someone’s shoulder was an effective method for generating familiarity...or making the other person intimidated. Both suited Jacob’s purposes just fine. Scrooge, however, had reacted differently than most, which was probably part of why Jacob found him so intriguing. There was a tenseness with which the other young man received these gestures that almost made him believe that his companion had never before been touched by a friendly hand...but surely that couldn’t be correct.

There was, of course, another theory that floated through Jacob’s mind from time to time, but he was quick to dismiss it...usually. Perhaps, it was simply boredom that had provoked him to act about his occasional suspicion. Or maybe it was something else entirely, but whatever had caused his boldness, the result was the same. He kept his eyes on his work, but his hand easily found what it was searching for, and much to his surprise, he was not immediately berated for it.

          He had been fast asleep until something had roused him. Not a sound but movement that spread across the bed. He opened his eyes to only see darkness, cut with the tiniest glow of morning light...a light that caught in Ebenezer’s eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. Jacob blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the weak lighting, regarding the pensive look on his partner’s face with more clarity each time.

          This look was hardly a strange one to him, and he frowned faintly in the dark of the room.

          It wasn’t unusual for Ebenezer to have trouble sleeping, but Jacob took it a bit more personally when it happened in his presence. Slowly, he reached his hand over, placing his palm flat over the other’s chest, still warm with a steady heartbeat though somewhat cool to the touch given the morning chill. Jacob huddled closer to him, offering up some of the heat he’d built up through the night. 

          It wouldn’t be right to say he’d been waiting for this day. No, the dead rarely were eager for other’s to share their fate, but Marley...well, Marley was simply missing an old, familiar, face. He wasn’t sure how he’d sensed it, but somehow he just knew, like something tugging on his soul. It wasn’t like they got obituaries on the other side, but the dead...well, they could sense their own. Especially those that they have been close to in life.

          Scrooge certainly fit into that category.