āŗ Ā ā± Ā MY MUSE PROTECTING YOURS FROM A SLEAZE AT THE CLUB.
Ā Ā Ā āāĀ jace never knows what to do with himself alone at a club. everyone always crowds in to vie for a dance or a drink, neither of which he particularly cares for, and so often he just finds himself floating, scanning the crowd for something or someone of INTEREST. places such as these are too crowded for his taste, the wrong sort of chaos, and usually heāll excuse himself after a few minutes of mingling for something better. that night, however, he isnāt so aimless ; keeping his chin craned up to look over the crowd, like holding his head above the water of a flood, he searches for mischa.
itās meant to be a surprise. itās been a few weeks since heās seen her last, after chasing some whim off and following that impulse for LONGER than intended. upon finding his way back to familiarity, heād set himself to the bratva house, boris greeting him with a curious sort of expression about him that jace has never been able to read--- either the man wants him dead or had an odd sort of affection for him. maybe both. regardless, heād somewhat hesitantly informed jace as to where mischa had vanished for the evening, sending him off towards the club. heās uncertain whether his sudden, unexpected appearance will be welcomed or feel to be an ambush, though itās too late to change his mind. heās already seen her across the space.
she isnāt terribly hard to spot, all bright pinks burning in the flashing lights of the room, and while he grins at the recognition, his expression quickly falls again when he notices the presence hanging around her. mischaās back is still to him so he approaches unseen, watching while some guy leans in to whisper something to her, resting a hand on her hip in an obvious attempt to pull her in closer. thereās NOTHING subtle about it ; his attention is painfully unwarranted, her shifting away and him taking the space as an invitation to move in further.
it doesnāt take much for jace to slip into some familiar facade--- theyāve played this game before, to get each other out of trouble, or to make themselves seem like they belonged somewhere they didnāt, or out of some strangely-placed jealousy that they wouldnāt talk about after. he doesnāt think twice before coming in beside her, blatantly blocking the other guy out as he approaches, BREAKING the contact between the two of them as he places himself amidst them.Ā ā hey, you. āĀ he greets, leans slightly down so she can hear him over the thrum of the music,Ā ā you miss me ? ā
heāll overthink the unintentional weight of that question later. for now, he glances up as if noticing the other man for the first time, looking him up and down with apparent DISINTEREST. pointedly, he moves his hand to rest low on mischaās back, watching the other with a confused sort of expression, a look like jace is in disbelief that heās still there.Ā ā thanks for hanging out, man. āĀ he addresses him, tone clipped and dry, the end of a conversation before the guy has the chance to start one.Ā ā you wanna fuck off now ? ā
thereās a second more of the guy regarding them both before he seems to concede, scoffs and throws some DISMISSIVE comment, enough to make jace briefly frown. as he passes back towards the bar, jace makes a point to knock his shoulder slightly with his own, a purposeful bump to conceal his free hand slipping into the otherās coat pocket. a stolen pair of keys feels like a worthwhile bit of retribution for whatever skeevy things heād certainly been trying to sell mischa. jace is simply evening the score.
as soon as the man disappears jace drops his touch from mischa, turns to grin at her like itās all been PLANNED, as if he hasnāt appeared from thin air. he offers no explanation, though he doubts she realistically expects one--- mischa knows him better than that.Ā ā this really where youāre spending time when iām not around ?Ā this place sucks. ā
he looks to the keys tucked into his palm, squinting through the haze of the room before holding them up for her to see, the showing off of a trophy.Ā ā want to get out of here ?Ā looks like jackass drives a fucking prius, but itās probably still good for SOMETHING. āĀ jace has no intention of staying where he is, packed in while a crowd gets drunk around him, waiting out the time while a perfectly good evening goes to waste. heād rather not leave by himself, though, and so he smiles to her, shakes the keys slightly in emphasis, prideful.Ā ā bet we can find anything better to do.Ā ā
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DRUNK Ā ā± Ā MY MUSE TAKES CARE OF YOUR MUSE WHILE THEY ARE IN A DRUNKEN STATE.
Ā Ā Ā āāĀ coming in to a stop, jace considers for a moment just letting mischa sleep in the backseat. if sheās still awake itās only barely, having apparently tired herself on drunkenly singing along to whatever song came on the radio, now with an arm draped dramatically over her eyes to shield from passing streetlights. looking back to her through the rearview mirror, he PAUSES for a moment, before sliding the gear shift to park. he's already come all this way, and surely sheād rather wake up in thea and indieās apartment than the back of some stolen camaro.
jace KNOWS how she is, like this, and so itās been no surprise to hear a litany of protests in the time itās taken to get her from the club, to the car, to the apartment ; that sheās FINE, that he should take a shot with her, that heās no fun. sheād offered him a drink several times, waving in his direction a thing of vodka sheād refused to leave behind. itās a suggestion he would have turned down on his own, regardless of the fact that sheād already emptied the bottle herself. stirring enough to notice him watching now, she sighs, calls him boring, says sheās okay.
ā youāre good ?Ā really ? āĀ his grin cracks, letting himself out of the driverās seat and opening the passenger door. in most other situations, such dares couldnāt go IGNORED--- thereās nothing he hates more than to be uninteresting, even if called so in obvious challenge. the usually sharp edges of her voice have all bled together into a slurring mess, movements uncoordinated as she shifts where she sits, all of her unfocused. jace knows the difference between drinking for fun and for a blackout, and mischa appears to have thrown herself headfirst into the latter. she deflects, again, insisting that sheās alright, and jace laughs.Ā ā okay, what, you wanna do this yourself ? ā
what is intended as an empty threat is apparently taken like a dare, mischa smiling and sitting up, grabbing at the open passenger door like a lifeline in attempts to stand, and jace catches her wrist to stop her.Ā ā no, no, iām kidding, come on, youāre gonna break a fucking ankle.Ā āĀ before she can argue again--- STUBBORN as she is, as they both are ---heās got one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, pulling her up to his chest as he stands. kicking the side door closed behind him as he goes, he shifts his grip slightly, tries to find the point of balance to carry her easier.
mischa continues to talk as he brings her inside, making his way down the hall towards thea and indieās door. jace does his best not to listen ; heās well aware of this game they play, that sometimes sheāll say things that heās supposed to IGNORE the following day, and so he tries to start practicing that forgetting now.Ā the apartment stays quiet as jace lets himself in, squinting through the dark. thea and indie must be asleep, or away, or otherwise unbothered. just as well, he thinks. better for him duck in and out unseen.Ā
smoothly as he can manage, jace sets about getting mischa to the couch, untangling her arms from where theyād come around his neck.Ā for a moment he pauses, touches the tips of his fingers to the edge of the sofa, then to her waist, as if thinking to move her slightly, create a space for him to sit. itās a hesitation without much REASONING, he thinks ; thereās not much he can do, now, heās done what he knows, gotten her from there to here. heās never sure what to do past that, beyond point a to point b, usually thatās ALL he has to do. one place to another, aimless as he goes, and goes.
mischaās still got his jacket on from when heād given it to her as they were leaving the club, a barrier from the cold and from the too-heavy stare of some sleaze watching her walk past. itās one heād been wearing for a while--- thereās some bent bit of wire in one pocket heād used to jimmy the car lock, half a pack of cigarettes in the other. wouldnāt be the worst to leave it behind this time, he decides. not as if heāll NEVER see it again.
ā iām gonna go, yeah ? āĀ jace says, like itās a question, like sheāll react. but sheās asleep, or at least close enough to seem like it, and he has no better response than LEAVING, anyway. thereās that buzz in his ears, again, catching up with himself, a feeling of overstaying his welcome in whatever moment this is. better that she doesnāt answer.Ā heād rather leave than have to hear her tell him to go. mischa shifts where she lies, settling in to the couch, and he looks back to the door. the car heās left in the lot still has stripped wires hanging below the dash, waiting for him to come back and drive off as he always does. absentmindedly, he fixes the collar of his jacket where itās bent up against her neck, and steps back from the sofa.Ā Ā ā sleep it off. ā
percy honestly wished he was less fond of mischa. it would have made his job a lot easierĀ to be more unforgiving with such a wildcard like her. but, unluckily for him, she had grown on him--as more of a thornĀ in his side, but still. he couldnāt deny that he felt somewhat closeĀ to her. but he liked to convince himself that was his fierce loyaltyĀ speaking, that he was that protective over all of his teammates. that he would take a bullet for any of them. but mischa felt like something more of a sisterĀ to him, even though acted like more of a cold authority figure around her. that never seemed to faze her, anyways.
he had been reading up on banksyās devolved parliament, specifically itās exact value. if he could get a number on that, and they had a solid fence, everything would run smoothly. so long as no one deviated from the plan.
the lounge area of their headquarters was empty, save for the russian mob princess herself.Ā āŠŠ“ŃŠ°Š²ŃŃŠ²ŃŠ¹ŃŠµ.ā he greeted casually. percy had been studying russian since high school--he liked to use it to startle mischa, to remind her that the little things she murmured to herself in the language werenāt so secret.Ā āhave you contacted your guy from belmonte?ā
