(no subject)

[psychopath]

Who: jack (psychopath) and jill (iudex)
When: december 10th, afternoon
Where: baseball diamond and onwards
Summary: loss of tiny dignities, jack being shot because he's an ass, gross sobbing
Warnings: some blood

[oh, this is familiar. The ground and walls are familiar, earth and stone, and jack is no stranger to sitting down in hidden places, blending in with the crowd.

he'd been hurt worse, but this is compounded by the fact that it's the same shoulder that got hurt before, and jack curls up in his jacket miserably. It's cold, but he feels colder, because he'd lost vincent. hello, regret, my old friend, he thinks.

oswald will have to do some searching to find the alcove he's in. jack almost hopes he doesn't find him.]

Comments

2corny2deal

[iudex]

[it's hard being an unfair person. jack'd know that best, wouldn't he? he's knocked jack speechless and almost feels a little proud - but, there's intrigue as he takes in his eyes, his face, his bloody shoulder—

oswald lets him steal his kiss, pliant and unaware of jack's case of the tingles and butterflies, brushing his lips down in way of kissing back. he's perfectly fine with this - will always be - but he's getting worried about that shoulder. thankfully his moral compass and brain aren't so torn that they'd mix his priorities up; he wants for a moment, but if he always got what he wanted he'd be a brat spoiled rotten.

fortunately, he's a mature what-the-hell-ever-year-old man.

it's why he eventually steps back again to start leading him back on track towards the manor he knows jack thinks of so fondly as 'home', hand-in-hand.]

[psychopath]

[he follows, obediently, and frankly, he's still a little dazed by the whole thing, so he's curiously silent and his grip is curiously twitchy, with his thumb constantly rubbing over Oswald's skin like he's a little afraid of losing him.]

Did that cloak that I gave you fit properly?

[iudex]

[it's good that jack is obediently following him. it might be a small change from the usual, but when he's got one gold wing in hand it's a little hard not to follow. the thumb rubbing over his skin the way it is is a bit concerning, the twitchiness doubly so, and oswald squeezes his hand gently but doesn't open his mouth in time to let out a question before jack does.

the cloak? —the one he's hung up for later use? his steps pause and he looks at jack, momentarily curious.]

...it did. [and then, sincere and fluidly warm:] Thank you, Jack.

[because it never struck him until now to say 'thank you' (because he wasn't sure and jack is flighty) seeing as he knows for sure. there could be no one else. he could tell him the red could be lighter - more wet blood than dry - but it suits him just fine and he doesn't actually mind.

oswald threw glen's cloak into the flames when he found he couldn't salvage it, after all.]