I'LL BE GOOD || [AP]

“Stop! Stop talkin’ in fuckin’ riddles.” Jane takes a few steps away from Faith to keep a healthy distance between the two of them; the last thing she wants is the other woman touching her right now. “You think I give a shit about bein’ saved? You think I’d be runnin’ around killin’ yer fuckin’ ilk if I gave a shit? Heaven, hell; wherever I’m goin’, that’s between me and God and no one else.”

—closed for @theirnarrative ( faith ).

he’s positive jessica won’t like this. there is no way she’d sit down with the pretty woman from the indie magazine he’d never heard of that was doing a story on captain america and the rest of the former avengers. heroes. that word was forbidden from being spoken on this floor. still, he would try. why? that he’s not certain of. maybe because she’s attractive or maybe because he wants to do something good and help her out. “listen, don’t use the ‘hero’ word. jessica doesn’t like it. maybe don’t mention her collection of alcohol. or the whole killgrave thing. i could write you a list of topics to not discuss but you wouldn’t have much of an interview.” 

his head turns as he finishes sanding the wall that had only recently been impaled by a litter of bullets. it wasn’t doing jessica’s business any good to look like a damn crime scene. he had been helping her out, doing repairs here and there. anything to keep him busy. he needed that. malcolm would lose his mind if he was left alone with nothing to do. curse of being a former addict. always had to be doing something. hands wipe the plaster residue clean from his hands as he moves towards his desk to the left of the door. 

“jessica isn’t a bad person. she’s... unique and a bit rough around the edges but don’t give up on her. you want this story? you’re gonna have to fight for it.” 

     features follow movement, a nod of approval at his choice of drink. he’d poured a bit more than she’d indulged in last time but after the evening she’s had– really after the week and maybe even year– she’s contemplating having a few more than the standard single drink. has it really been a year since… “tryin’ to.” sydney offers, fingers reaching for her glass, idly tilting it so she could watch the liquid move. “it’s not easy, it’ll tell you that much. but my– my dad used to say that anything worth while is rarely easy.” it was a sentiment that was often true. sure one could take the easy way but it was the journey, the adventure upon the more difficult path that taught you the necessary lessons, that molded you into you who you really were. 

     “that’s the thing though–” sydney begins, socked feet leading her to the other side of the island as she offers him a glance. those things will kill you one day. she doesn’t voice it but her dark hues and the soft frown that’s not quite a frown echo her words anyway. “– everyone leaves a trail, maybe not like today with computers but that’s what archeology is about. finding what those before us have left behind.” a pause as she glances around the room an air of excitement exhibited due to the topics at hand. “take cat for example. the dents on the papers over there and the fact some of them seem to have drifted toward the steps as if they had gotten stuck to him by friction. i’d bet he’s found his way to my room. likely didn’t like all my frustrated exclaims.”

her words should have sparked something inside of him. for anyone else he’s certain they would have. he was a prisoner of his own mind. allowed the darkness that only grew after mike’s death to reach it’s pinnacle. he’s only human, painfully so. a man set in his own ways that are true to who he was. each failure beat him down because he allowed it to. it made him into the deprecating man he was today. it’s a wonder how she puts up with him. how his cynical nature and general awfulness hasn’t pushed her away like everyone else in his life. perhaps it was too soon. 

dark hues rise as she casts a knowing glance his way. his head shakes as he watches her, fingers expertly flicking on the lighter and catching the tip of the cigarette ablaze. knees pull up to his chest as he leans against the chair. “fuck. that’s incredible.” he means his words. he’s in awe of her. what she does is incredible, it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. “jesus, you’re gonna find the holy grail and shit.” he inhales a drag from the cigarette before blowing a cloud of smoke out towards the window. “you sure you’re not a detective? ‘cause that makes you sound like one.” 

     observant hues wash over the man before her. notices the exhaustion in his features and surmises how his night may have transpired. she’s heard him sing before, witnessed his talent even if scouts had failed to discover him yet. she wonders absently if part of it was the aura he gives off at times. a rough life could do that to a person. most people didn’t know or even think about how the energy of their emotions radiate off them and emit to those around them subtly. she’s gone to the gaslight once, out of pure curiosity. stayed in the shadows and allowed a glimmer to wash over her so she could remain unseen before she had continued on with whatever she was doing that evening. she had watched this city take and take and take from so many people and so she had allowed herself to hope for him. they weren’t quite friends, yet, if that be what the fates held for these two people who had found themselves in the same living space, but weren’t strangers either.

     effortlessly the dark-haired female drops from her couch perch and pads toward a small bar area she has off the side of the living room, steps careful and almost a dance as she moves around her scattered work. two glasses are retrieved before she moves back across the room to place them on the kitchen counter. “just pick a bottle and bring it over. want ice?” she questions, arm reaching out for the freezer. it takes her another moment before she answers his question, considering her answer. “battle of troy. it’s been rumored that when schliemann discovered the site in 1870 some artifacts were stolen and relocated by unknown parties. there’s been some leads in the archeological community as of late about where some of them may have ended up.” it’s mostly true with the exception that the one artifact she’s looking into in question has some magical properties and there wasn’t public leads as much as the other guardians having heard things that were passed onto malcolm and then her. she was trying to track strange occurrences around those connected, and not, through the years.

llewyn moves into the kitchen and opens the cabinet housing a collection of alcohol. they’d done this before, he’s come to learn she indulges in a drink when she’s frustrated. takes the edge off of her like it does to everyone else. “yeah. thanks.” he reaches for a bottle of whiskey and sets it on the counter near the two glasses that she’s readied for them. he fills the glasses, pours maybe a bit more then he should but they both need this. 

what she does, her work in history is far above his head. he knows nothing about it, only knowledge of history he has was from high school and he was never particularly good at school. mind was always elsewhere when he should have been focused on academics. brows arch as she explains the papers covering the flat and he tries his best to follow her, to understand a fraction of what she’s doing. never did he think he’d be living with a real life indiana jones. “so what, you’re tracking them down? how can anyone know where something was hidden a hundred years ago?” llewyn takes the glass and moves towards the windows of the flat. he pulls open the window, allowing cold air to blow in. a quick apologetic glance is cast her way as he takes out a cigarette and his lighter.