She has basically just given him full permission to steal from her. He stares at her, feeling for the first time more uncertain than not. She that rich that she doesn’t care? But no, he can’t imagine she’d let any third class criminal in here to take her valuables. Why let him then?
“I didn’t exactly bring a list,” he says, fiddling with one of the cuffs on his jacket. He’s not used to wearing stuff like this, the livery of a servant better than even his nicest clothes. It’s starting to sink in then that he might actually be in a little over his head with this one.
Yet he doesn’t want to leave. That urge to get to know her, to understand her, just grows stronger with every word they exchange. But he can’t explain that feeling to her without humiliating himself in the process.
“Suppose if I’ll be workin’ here, you should show me around.”
She can sense his discomfort, and she almost feels bad for him having to wear that starch outfit. Finally she decides to have mercy on him, while also giving him hell. She walks over towards him with confidence and goes to undo the tie around his neck.
"We both know this ain't your style. You might as well make yourself comfortable while you're here." She tugged it off and laid it over a chair. She undid the top couple buttons, before moving around behind him to help him out of his jacket. Despite herself there is a certain care in her actions, not unlike a wife helping her husband. She's back in front of him quickly enough. "Better?"
He should do something other than stare. Doesn’t matter how hard he thinks it though—as she undoes his outfit, piece by piece, he can’t seem to break his sudden case of paralysis. She’s the heiress, and she’s helping him out of his clothes as if she were the servant. Or someone much closer.
He at least manages to move his arms so she can get his jacket off. Good thing too, because he’s feeling rather warm suddenly.
“Feelin’ like a new man,” he says, sounding distracted as he looks from his coat back to her. “Suppose this means you’re not one for followin' the rules too close."
She hadn't even thought of the situation like that. Even like this, he's so familiar to her. Swallowing down a knot she takes a step back. He already looks better with just that little bit of change and it makes him more familiar, that other outfit just doesn't work for him.
There is a laugh at the mention of rules. "I follow the rules, so long as they're mine. I got a list that back home I make everyone follow. But I follow them too. Though, if someone else throws a rule at me, I just feel the need to refuse that rule. What can I say, I have authority issues."
She turned away from him and nodded her head to get him to follow. "The little alcove is the kitchenette and dining area, and of course here with have the livin' room." Walking over towards the door, she slid it open onto a balcony, and stepped out. It was day so the weather was gorgeous. "Best place in the apartment."
“Not so good with authority myself,” Jesse admits. Then he’s quiet as she shows him around, his eyes on her rather than the room more often than not. Then they’re outside, and he tilts his head back as he takes a deep breath of fresh air.
“Best place is the part that’s not in it?” But he gets it. Being belowdecks and cut off from the outside is claustrophobic, particularly now with this being a werewolf. It’s only heightened his propensity for wide open spaces.
The warmth of the air during the day reminded her of Arizona and the way it felt when a warm wind swept through the desert. If she closed her eyes, and she did, she could almost believe she was on the hideout's balcony. Well, other than the smell of salt in the air. She opened her eyes and turned around to lean her elbows against the rail and look at him.
"That's not so suprisin' is it? Though, the room is fine and the bed is comfortable, and I have my own bath. It's just one more place to be while waitin' to get to another." She figured he would think she meant between lands, but she was really referencing the short moment of peace before more bad things happened.
When Ashe turns back his way, Jesse cuts his gaze to the side to pretend he hadn’t been staring. It’s just, with the sun and the sea and the whole sky behind her, she’d looked…
Nope, not the time. He schools his expression into something casual, even as the afterimage of what he’d seen sticks with him. It’s not just that she’s pretty. He’s been aware of that since she first called him, and has had plenty of time to take it in. There was just something about the sight that’d felt… familiar? Comforting? Whatever it is, it's strange.
“Yeah, well what a place. You should see the shoeboxes they have us stuffed into belowdecks.” He leans his arms on the railing and looks out at the view, a slight breeze stirring his hair. “If this isn’t impressive enough for you, then the place you’re goin’ has to be somethin’ else.”
It was her turn to watch him as he tilted her head to the side enough to look at him as he stared out into the ocean. It felt so right and so comfortable being there with him. She'd been ready to read him the riot act like all the others, but it fell flat when she knew the man she loved was still in there.
Back when they'd been children, he'd been impressed by her home while she felt like a prisoner in it. It wasn't so different here it seemed. She couldn't even tell him that she'd give it up in a second to be with him. Probably would have been a tight squeeze in one of those bed, but she was struggling to get any rest in her large one. A fact made obvious by the whiskey bottles on the bedside table. She was back to drinking herself to sleep it seemed.
Turning towards him she let out a sigh. "Poor people always think this kind of crap is impressive. Sure, it's pretty and comfortable and I can enjoy that, but money doesn't buy the things you really want." And what she wanted was to lay her head on his shoulder and weave her fingers through his and just be in the moment truly together.
Jesse turns away from the water to face her as well, his hip leaning against the railing and his arms folded over his chest. His expression is, for the first time since she’d confronted him on the Fluid, absolutely serious.
“Yeah, rich people are the ones who can afford to say stuff like that. You might not have all of what you want here, but you know what you do have? Security. You don’t have to sleep with a gun in your hand and one eye open. You always know you’ll get to eat that day. And if somebody does do wrong by you? People in charge will listen. That’s what’s impressive.”
This is not dissimilar to conversations they’d had as kids. Jesse had been less trusting of her status then, a lifetime of poverty and danger shaping his view of what she had. He couldn’t imagine why she’d give any of it up for anything. Not at first.
This was definitely a conversation that layered on the deja vu. Back then, she had been a little naive to the real world before she'd jumped in head first, but she knew both sides now. She appreciated the comforts and the very things he was talking about. It wasn't that she didn't. They'd been building it all back up when he'd been taken, but then there was no dollar amount that could satisfy. That had been the same when she was a child, there was nothing that could be bought that filled her with joy. The only thing her parents had ever bought her that made her truly happy was B.O.B. and he was gone for awhile.
She tries to remember that the things he's saying to her come from a lack of understanding, but they sting all the same. Ashe could still remember the look in his eyes when he'd finally understood why she'd leave it all behind. But here they were again, partly strangers.
If he had his memories he'd know she slept with viper as close as possible. He'd know she was a light sleeper because she was always prepared to wake up with a gun to her face or a quick need to run. People did listen to her but she'd earned that. She pushes off the balcony and heads back into her room and grabs the first class coin.
"Here you want this? You want the key to the other side? With all its fancy toys and three solid meals a day. I'm sure it sounds like fuckin' heaven to you. But I can survive just as well down in steerage, in fact probably better." At least then she would be with the people she was comfortable with, and maybe she could bury her face into his pillow and pretend she was just waiting for him to come home. "But I don't care about any of this. So like I said before, go ahead! Help yourself! Then at least I won't need a damn butler."
Jesse steps partway back into the room after her, stopping at her outburst. Confusion wars with indignation—he hadn’t meant it as an insult! Yet here she is getting all up in arms about it.
“Even if you gave that to me, I’d end up locked in a room somewhere close to the boiler before I could get much use out of it. They’ll think I stole it no matter what you tell the crew. So you keep your damn coin.”
He shuts the doors behind him and considers walking past her to the exit out to the hall. He doesn’t have to put up with this rich girl and her outbursts. Maybe coming in the first place had been a waste of time.
“You should get somebody to look at that chip on your shoulder. Can’t be comfortable.”
He stays right where he’s standing instead, frowning at her, daring her silently to tell him to leave. Because he won’t. He’s no quitter.
And he’s more curious now than ever.
“And for the record, I never said you couldn’t survive down there. Fact is that you don’t have to, and you’re turnin’ your nose up at it like it don’t matter.”
He's right. Right about too much for her comfort level. Jesse knew her well enough to know that right now she was like a caged lioness at the moment. Joel did not, but Jesse did, and she was sure he'd know that Sodder placing her in this situation had her pacing back and forth as if she was in a tiny cage. She was loaded to fight and looking for one. If Sodder wanted to disturb her, she'd been successful. She was even angry at Jesse for forgetting it all even if she knew it wasn't his fault. But when had she ever dealt out blame appropriately.
The coin was pocket and when he mentions the chip on her shoulder she brings one hand up as if to check out what he's talking about. "What...you mean...this chip?" She brought her hand up as if she'd picked something up off her shoulder, only she merely gives him the middle finger. "That the one you're talkin' about?" She glares, but lets her hand drop after the message is sent. Very mature.
A big part of her wants to kick him out and send him on his way. She also knows Jesse and she's just challenged him more or less and she can guess he won't back down. "You don't know anythin' about me. So why don't you just save us both further headache and get lost like the rest of them?"
If Jesse truly remembered himself—and, through extension, her—he’d be a lot more sympathetic. He’d probably have already invited her out of the room with him, and to hell with anyone that didn’t like it.
But things are different now. The one-fingered salute sets him grinning wolfishly, though something in his manner remains wary. Watchful, almost. In the end, he slips his hands into his pockets and shakes his head.
“You want me gone? You fire me. You tell me to leave, and I’ll have to. But I won’t ‘til then.” He takes another look around the room, eyes never stopping but taking it in regardless. The haphazard decadence of it all. The bottles by her bed.
“You don’t know me and I don’t know you, so here’s a little somethin’ for you to think about. I don’t give up easy.” He fixes his roaming gaze back on her. “And I don’t think you are either, so. That’s one thing I know.”
He knew her. Even like this he had her number and at that particular moment with her temper flared and the heaviness between them, she feels trapped. The room is feeling more like a cage and while his presence would be otherwise be welcome, at present it's a staunch reminder of how alone she is at that moment.
She wants nothing more than to fire him, and part of her brain is ordering herself to. It falls flat because she just can't do it. A Jesse that doesn't remember her is still better than no Jesse. Too many times she's sent him away and had to sit in the regret of it, so she can't bring herself to do it this time.
And he's right, she isn't a quitter. Her eyes narrow at him. "Fine! Stay!" In the meantime she couldn't stay. She had to get out and get some fresh air, or do something, anything, to get away from the situation. It was a damn shame it was a boat and there really was no getting away. At least she can go for a walk and clear her head. She grabs her pack of cigarettes off the table and stuffs them into her pocket and heads for the door. "Clean the place if you're so eager!" She opens the door just about to close it before she sticks her head back in.
"But the rubies are off limits!" It was really just a reminder that she had his number too. Then she slams the door and vacates the situation, at least for a little while.
His angry retort gets cut off by the slamming of the door, and he’s left standing there feeling completely off-balance. This wasn’t how he expected this to go. In so many ways.
For a minute, he debates the pros and cons of all his options. Stay, go. Steal, don’t. Clean, don’t.
In the end, he chooses to stay. He doesn’t steal anything, though he takes a careful mental inventory of what he finds, and he isn’t shy about rifling around. And when Ashe eventually does return to the room later, it will be noticeably neater than when she left.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
“I didn’t exactly bring a list,” he says, fiddling with one of the cuffs on his jacket. He’s not used to wearing stuff like this, the livery of a servant better than even his nicest clothes. It’s starting to sink in then that he might actually be in a little over his head with this one.
Yet he doesn’t want to leave. That urge to get to know her, to understand her, just grows stronger with every word they exchange. But he can’t explain that feeling to her without humiliating himself in the process.
“Suppose if I’ll be workin’ here, you should show me around.”
no subject
She can sense his discomfort, and she almost feels bad for him having to wear that starch outfit. Finally she decides to have mercy on him, while also giving him hell. She walks over towards him with confidence and goes to undo the tie around his neck.
"We both know this ain't your style. You might as well make yourself comfortable while you're here." She tugged it off and laid it over a chair. She undid the top couple buttons, before moving around behind him to help him out of his jacket. Despite herself there is a certain care in her actions, not unlike a wife helping her husband. She's back in front of him quickly enough. "Better?"
no subject
He at least manages to move his arms so she can get his jacket off. Good thing too, because he’s feeling rather warm suddenly.
“Feelin’ like a new man,” he says, sounding distracted as he looks from his coat back to her. “Suppose this means you’re not one for followin' the rules too close."
no subject
There is a laugh at the mention of rules. "I follow the rules, so long as they're mine. I got a list that back home I make everyone follow. But I follow them too. Though, if someone else throws a rule at me, I just feel the need to refuse that rule. What can I say, I have authority issues."
She turned away from him and nodded her head to get him to follow. "The little alcove is the kitchenette and dining area, and of course here with have the livin' room." Walking over towards the door, she slid it open onto a balcony, and stepped out. It was day so the weather was gorgeous. "Best place in the apartment."
no subject
“Best place is the part that’s not in it?” But he gets it. Being belowdecks and cut off from the outside is claustrophobic, particularly now with this being a werewolf. It’s only heightened his propensity for wide open spaces.
no subject
The warmth of the air during the day reminded her of Arizona and the way it felt when a warm wind swept through the desert. If she closed her eyes, and she did, she could almost believe she was on the hideout's balcony. Well, other than the smell of salt in the air. She opened her eyes and turned around to lean her elbows against the rail and look at him.
"That's not so suprisin' is it? Though, the room is fine and the bed is comfortable, and I have my own bath. It's just one more place to be while waitin' to get to another." She figured he would think she meant between lands, but she was really referencing the short moment of peace before more bad things happened.
no subject
Nope, not the time. He schools his expression into something casual, even as the afterimage of what he’d seen sticks with him. It’s not just that she’s pretty. He’s been aware of that since she first called him, and has had plenty of time to take it in. There was just something about the sight that’d felt… familiar? Comforting? Whatever it is, it's strange.
“Yeah, well what a place. You should see the shoeboxes they have us stuffed into belowdecks.” He leans his arms on the railing and looks out at the view, a slight breeze stirring his hair. “If this isn’t impressive enough for you, then the place you’re goin’ has to be somethin’ else.”
no subject
Back when they'd been children, he'd been impressed by her home while she felt like a prisoner in it. It wasn't so different here it seemed. She couldn't even tell him that she'd give it up in a second to be with him. Probably would have been a tight squeeze in one of those bed, but she was struggling to get any rest in her large one. A fact made obvious by the whiskey bottles on the bedside table. She was back to drinking herself to sleep it seemed.
Turning towards him she let out a sigh. "Poor people always think this kind of crap is impressive. Sure, it's pretty and comfortable and I can enjoy that, but money doesn't buy the things you really want." And what she wanted was to lay her head on his shoulder and weave her fingers through his and just be in the moment truly together.
no subject
“Yeah, rich people are the ones who can afford to say stuff like that. You might not have all of what you want here, but you know what you do have? Security. You don’t have to sleep with a gun in your hand and one eye open. You always know you’ll get to eat that day. And if somebody does do wrong by you? People in charge will listen. That’s what’s impressive.”
This is not dissimilar to conversations they’d had as kids. Jesse had been less trusting of her status then, a lifetime of poverty and danger shaping his view of what she had. He couldn’t imagine why she’d give any of it up for anything. Not at first.
no subject
She tries to remember that the things he's saying to her come from a lack of understanding, but they sting all the same. Ashe could still remember the look in his eyes when he'd finally understood why she'd leave it all behind. But here they were again, partly strangers.
If he had his memories he'd know she slept with viper as close as possible. He'd know she was a light sleeper because she was always prepared to wake up with a gun to her face or a quick need to run. People did listen to her but she'd earned that. She pushes off the balcony and heads back into her room and grabs the first class coin.
"Here you want this? You want the key to the other side? With all its fancy toys and three solid meals a day. I'm sure it sounds like fuckin' heaven to you. But I can survive just as well down in steerage, in fact probably better." At least then she would be with the people she was comfortable with, and maybe she could bury her face into his pillow and pretend she was just waiting for him to come home. "But I don't care about any of this. So like I said before, go ahead! Help yourself! Then at least I won't need a damn butler."
no subject
“Even if you gave that to me, I’d end up locked in a room somewhere close to the boiler before I could get much use out of it. They’ll think I stole it no matter what you tell the crew. So you keep your damn coin.”
He shuts the doors behind him and considers walking past her to the exit out to the hall. He doesn’t have to put up with this rich girl and her outbursts. Maybe coming in the first place had been a waste of time.
“You should get somebody to look at that chip on your shoulder. Can’t be comfortable.”
He stays right where he’s standing instead, frowning at her, daring her silently to tell him to leave. Because he won’t. He’s no quitter.
And he’s more curious now than ever.
“And for the record, I never said you couldn’t survive down there. Fact is that you don’t have to, and you’re turnin’ your nose up at it like it don’t matter.”
no subject
The coin was pocket and when he mentions the chip on her shoulder she brings one hand up as if to check out what he's talking about. "What...you mean...this chip?" She brought her hand up as if she'd picked something up off her shoulder, only she merely gives him the middle finger. "That the one you're talkin' about?" She glares, but lets her hand drop after the message is sent. Very mature.
A big part of her wants to kick him out and send him on his way. She also knows Jesse and she's just challenged him more or less and she can guess he won't back down. "You don't know anythin' about me. So why don't you just save us both further headache and get lost like the rest of them?"
no subject
But things are different now. The one-fingered salute sets him grinning wolfishly, though something in his manner remains wary. Watchful, almost. In the end, he slips his hands into his pockets and shakes his head.
“You want me gone? You fire me. You tell me to leave, and I’ll have to. But I won’t ‘til then.” He takes another look around the room, eyes never stopping but taking it in regardless. The haphazard decadence of it all. The bottles by her bed.
“You don’t know me and I don’t know you, so here’s a little somethin’ for you to think about. I don’t give up easy.” He fixes his roaming gaze back on her. “And I don’t think you are either, so. That’s one thing I know.”
no subject
She wants nothing more than to fire him, and part of her brain is ordering herself to. It falls flat because she just can't do it. A Jesse that doesn't remember her is still better than no Jesse. Too many times she's sent him away and had to sit in the regret of it, so she can't bring herself to do it this time.
And he's right, she isn't a quitter. Her eyes narrow at him. "Fine! Stay!" In the meantime she couldn't stay. She had to get out and get some fresh air, or do something, anything, to get away from the situation. It was a damn shame it was a boat and there really was no getting away. At least she can go for a walk and clear her head. She grabs her pack of cigarettes off the table and stuffs them into her pocket and heads for the door. "Clean the place if you're so eager!" She opens the door just about to close it before she sticks her head back in.
"But the rubies are off limits!" It was really just a reminder that she had his number too. Then she slams the door and vacates the situation, at least for a little while.
no subject
His angry retort gets cut off by the slamming of the door, and he’s left standing there feeling completely off-balance. This wasn’t how he expected this to go. In so many ways.
For a minute, he debates the pros and cons of all his options. Stay, go. Steal, don’t. Clean, don’t.
In the end, he chooses to stay. He doesn’t steal anything, though he takes a careful mental inventory of what he finds, and he isn’t shy about rifling around. And when Ashe eventually does return to the room later, it will be noticeably neater than when she left.