Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Xmen Revolution. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
elitist jerks; [spitfire]
Topic Started: Apr 1 2011, 11:15 PM (496 Views)
Primal
Unregistered

Time of Day: 21:30
Place in Timeline: March 17th




Sometimes recruitment managed to pull in a big group of street crawlers. Primal wondered how they ended up with so many meth-heads and junkies, like they’d done a drive through on a rehab clinic and handed out brochures. They’d roll in rattling and paranoid and real messy, sizing up security with suspicious ratty eyes, feeling up the high-tech gadgetry with bony ratty fingers, prying at it until someone in a suit ushered them into another room. Sure, it was mutant-proof, but junkies were notoriously persistent, ruthless little opportunists, and Primal wasn’t sure needle-freak had been considered in the design specs.

Normally the dopers gave them no trouble, and without so much as a mumble they were processed and packed into a cab and checked into a centre until they rode out the agonies. But on occasion one or two of them would experience a total meltdown, flattened into blubbering nonsense by the incomprehensible scale and ambition of the citystate. They would be shocked into a drug-addled stupor where this place would become a level of higher consciousness into which they had inadvertently stepped, and then floundering had no reasonable way of processing the transcendental information within, sense melting away like the walls of reality until all that remained were a few raw, quivering synapses. Some kind of Sanctuary-induced Stendhal syndrome. You couldn’t ever tell who was going to pop.

“…sapping the goddamn resources,” Primal was saying, beer bottle in hand, gesturing angrily with the other. “Like, I’ve been there, I know that shit, fuck em, y’know? I didn’t get some fancy-ass clinic with whitewashed walls and a bunch of scantily clad chicks servin’ me breakfast in bed… are the walls whitewashed?” He stared at Jac, fixing her with narrow-eyed disdain, unwarranted antipathy aimed not at her but the unfortunate subjects of his drunken scorn.

“Chuck ‘em in a house, let ‘em shake it out. Where they gonna go; NYC? Find some back alley dealer? I can see them now, screaming at their cells.” He snorted, picturing a sweaty junkie waving his phone uselessly in the air, trying to pick up a nonexistent signal. “Butyeah-… me, I came off junk in a fucking sewer. Pussies. Eh. I wouldn’t really give a crap if some ungrateful cunt didn’t have to go apeshit and trash the place, and then I gotta go down and watch all these skinny dickheads flap around, hear their mindblown spaced-out rambles, smell ‘em… smelly bastards.” Primal swigged from his bottle and then jabbed a clawed finger at Jac, lights from the city below catching him at odd angles, cutting his scaly features into a ragged mask.

“You’re an impressive little shit, y’know that?” He hadn’t been surprised by the promotion. Upon hearing the news something small had kicked up in his stomach, a weird flare of something not unlike pride, a foreign thing to the reptilian; he hadn’t been able to give it a name. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “Congratu-fucking-lations. Being impressive ain’t gonna cut it. You got something to prove? To who? Magneto? You? That X-tard you got sharing your bunk? Yeah, that ain’t your most defining achievement. You’re naïve. It’s dirty up here.”

In its artificial night Sanctuary was a star field. There was a horrible blackness above it, the chill of the ocean visible even through the impacted layers that held it all back.

“Falsworth… y’ain’t better off… you’re kinda like a…” He blinked and stalled himself and glared at the hot shape of her, lips peeling into a snarl. His cybernetic arm felt heavy by his side.

“Don’t turn into me.”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Spitfire
Member Avatar
Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
There are many strange, terrible ways to be woken up. The incessant clamour of the alarm clock, a sibling or friend lovingly draping your hand in a warm bowl of water, the smoke alarm going off in dorms at five am (to only be revealed later it was just dusty), realising you are a lot sicker than you realised, but how Jac was woken up that day…well, that had to be up there with the best. Or worst. Waking up with a towering saurian mutant, with a cybernetic arm who was clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels, prodding her awake and growling something about training, only to wave said bottle in her face when she was awake – by falling out of bed…Well, it was just a little disconcerting, really.

Fast-forward many hours later and they were sat in a bar, celebrating her promotion with copious amounts of booze. It was hard for Primal to get drunk and even harder for Jac, but the fact he at least was almost there said a lot about how much they had put away. The blonde rocked back and forth on her seat a little as she listened, head cocked to one side, the alcohol giving her a certain warmth, if not tipsiness. With her metabolism, it was pretty tricky. Jac would have thought the same of Primal, if not for exactly the same reasons, but he had obviously had enough to start rambling.

Her elbow slipped out from where she had been propping herself up and nearly knocked over her bottle of cider. Her lightning reflexes caused her to snatch at the bottle and replace it in a safer spot, just in time to hear him call her an impressive little shit. Her mouth quirked into a grin. Coming from Primal, that was a pretty high compliment. She’d take it, anyway. The left corner of her mouth twitched down a little however as he went on and the girl lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a deep swallow.

“Dunno really…” Jac shrugged, lowering the bottle and setting it down on the table with a thump and ran a hand through her hair, eyes shifting to look out across the ocean view that their balcony perch afforded them. Being an Acolyte was still surreal. “Guess it was always drilled into me, y’know? Your brother gets good marks in school, so work hard too…Get into a good university…Get a good career…Working hard is just what I know,” the speedster wasn’t drunk enough for this, even if Primal was. Lifting the bottle, she swigged another mouthful and gestured at the older man with it.

“Are you going soft on me?” Spitfire asked shrewdly and tried not to grin too widely and wagged a finger at him. Dropping the hand into a convenient bowl of peanuts, the blonde scooped a few up and tossed them into her mouth. Her shoulders drooped a little as he finished with the plea. This was even more unsettling than his wakeup call that morning. Raising up from her stool a little she gave a shrill whistle and gestured with her hand into the bar through the open balcony doors. “HEY! Tequila, now!”

The small knot of young mutants (not too young that they couldn’t be knocking back a few drinks in the bar) who had been watching the two Acolytes getting absolutely rat arsed (or trying to) scattered and Jac laughed a little, looking back to Primal, her blonde hair swishing around, almost white in the dim light. “Think I should actually go speak to them?” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at the two men who had returned to the doorway to continue looking at them in interest.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Primal
Unregistered

“University… hahaha … You? In university? ‘Least you got the career down pat. ‘Hey mom, dad, check me out running a fucking country.’ Bastards. Fucking parents. You got nice ‘rents, Spitball? I bet you got some real cutesy folk back home. I bet they’re real proud of you. Nice mugshot, right? You reckon they pin your wanted pic up on the fridge?”

God almighty, talking about parents; he had to be seriously plastered. It wasn’t all that difficult to imagine the spunky firecracker tottering around a school and buckling down over a desk of towering worksheets. She was diligent and industrious and did what she was told and did it better than expected, which was largely why she had so quickly gained so much respect and had clambered her way to the top like an overgrown squirrel with a fire lit under its ass. Primal was projecting, and too inebriated to realise it. This was three bottles of Jack and several hours after he’d kicked her out of her bunk under the pretence of Acolyte tutelage.

This was team-bonding shit. He was hitting the booze harder than necessary. Her promotion was a nice excuse to hammer it back, a whole pint down the pan before he’d bypassed the shot glasses entirely and started drinking straight from the bottle. Amongst the madness there was method, each mouthful slammed with earnest purpose, because maybe he could end up drowning out that prickling dread in the pit of his stomach, and maybe he could forget about what Jesse had done.

Jac drooped into her drink, melting all over the table, her expression mangling between a cheeky smirk and titanic depression, pheromones grossly exaggerated by all the alcohol sloshing through the saurian’s faculties. That’s right; he’d gotten all morose and serious, said something sobering in the middle of their celebrations. She slipped from one reaction to another like quicksand before snapping around to face the bar, jumping up on her stool and whistling loud, calling for tequila and gesturing at the goggle-eyed barman who stared at them with dreadful awe while making an automatic grab for the liquor.

“Think I should actually go speak to them?” she asked, and Primal followed her line of sight, settling on the gaggle of fangirls hovering beside the mouth of the balcony. He’d noticed them earlier, but gnats were gnats. He rolled back on his toes and regarded them with a grin that bordered on obscene. As one they leaned away and he stepped forward as if pulled by an invisible thread.

“Why? Gonna give ‘em your autograph?”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Spitfire
Member Avatar
Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
This was probably a little more surreal than when Magneto had actually told her she was to be an Acolyte. Sure, she had spent time with Primal before and he had even paid for pizza on one occasion, but this was different. Before there had always been a line there, a certain level between the pair of them and it seemed to her that that imaginary barrier had somehow started to recede, if it wasn’t already gone. It wasn’t that long ago that the mere sight of him had terrified her and brought out a chronically smart mouth in her, her usual reaction to bad situations. The newest Acolyte had to wonder if any of the Brotherhood had actually worked that out about her…

The young speedster’s grin turned a little uncomfortable as Primal started to laugh at the idea of her in university. Clearing her throat, the girl shrugged her shoulders a little. “I was in university when Apocalypse hit…I’d got a scholarship to study in New York, things kind of went…well, y’know,” she gestured again and sat up, flashing him a grin, faltering slightly as the conversation quickly veered on to parents. Oh boy, she wasn’t drunk enough for this. “Ask my brother,” the blonde said after a brief pause and her mind went to Murderworld and the kitchen where they had pinned up the wanted pictures from the Bugle. A little bit of dark humour to make the day go quicker.

Shaking her head as the saurian mutant asked if she was going to give them her autograph, she got up slightly as if going to collect their fresh drinks. “Haven’t worked mine out yet. Nah, just want to scare them because they keep staring and its really annoying,” Jac drummed on the table with her palms, still torn between staying at the table and going to have a little fun with the onlookers.

“Will you buy me pizza if I make you smile?” she flashed Primal a grin, wondering if he would remember that night. It had been the night she had asked how to become an Acolyte as well, so she certainly remembered it. Things had turned full circle now.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Primal
Unregistered

School meant shit-all to the saurian. At school he’d learned to fight and swear and spit and that parents came to collect their kids and didn’t call them names and didn’t ignore them when they fell. He’d learnt that children could be more brutal than adults and their tongues sharper and their grudges colder, that social divides were invisible and sometimes blurry, how to lie and how to steal and what two-faced meant. All he retained from those early lessons was how to read and how to write and little more, and he couldn’t spell particularly well and he couldn’t do maths beyond basic multiplication. University was just a pretentious abstraction, some palatial institute where clever dicks went to obtain a piece of paper that couldn’t even get them a job.

So he ignored her harried explanation, swallowing deliberately when she mentioned her brother, arching a brow. Brian Falsworth. He flicked his eyes towards the bar, pursing his lips into his bottle. That crap was real cute. Got himself signed up because the big bad BH was corrupting his little sister. Primal had issues with family members joining their ranks. They were a liability, unreliable and a major safety risk, their intentions suspect. Like Quicksilver, that bastard tweak, all cotton-headed and mangled; he’d had too much and popped his cork. The Brotherhood asked everything of you, and if you hadn’t come here willing to give all of yourself, joining with ulterior motives such as trying to save a wayward family member, you’d end up fucked in the head or getting others killed, or more likely both at once.

The other Falsworth might as well have been some moron they’d picked up while on patrol. He hadn’t yet done anything worth Primal’s trust.

“So let ‘em stare,” he said hollowly, starting to slur his sibilants. He was perhaps more used than she to the odd celebrity their status granted them in Sanctuary, although when sober hated the attention since it reminded him of how it felt to be singled out amongst a crowd. There was irony in it, being gawked at in a city meant to provide relief from social contradistinction. A grin ghosted his lips as she mentioned pizza, dredging up old memories, that night on the rooftops and her playful attempts at making him laugh. She’d asked about becoming an Acolyte then.

“Ain’t gonna happen, chick,” he snarked. The barman loomed up from around the counter, proffering the tequila and two clean shot glasses, waggling a platter of sliced lime and salt. Primal took the bottle and waved away the condiments, and didn’t specify whether he meant the pizza or making him smile.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Spitfire
Member Avatar
Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
“Haven’t they got better things to do than stare?” Jac asked, indignant, with a very small slur to her words as she slammed a bottle down, glowering and tilting her head to one side as she stared across the table at Primal. The young speedster had easily put enough alcohol away to make any normal man pass out by this point and there was a strong temptation to challenge one or all of the onlookers to a drinking competition. The girl had played and won plenty of those back in university and had become a record holder for beer pong during her short time in her dorms back in New York. Normally, she looked back on those times and winced, but this evening, she was filled with a strange, fuzzy sense of nostalgia. Must be all the drink. Turning her head, Jac poked her tongue out at the knot of onlookers by the door. It was weird to see that two of them looked older than she did.

Jac’s head swivelled back around followed by the rest of her body as he called her ‘chick’ and the blonde girl started to laugh. Coming from Primal, that was probably the closest thing to a genuine term of endearment he’d given her to date, although to be fair it wasn’t like there was much room in their lives for fluffy pet names. Her eyes fell upon the bionic arm that had replaced his lost limb and the speedster felt herself remembering those hellish few days, wondering if they had anything to do with her new situation. The blonde had lost a lot in that very brief time and had been pushed, mentally if not physically, by what had happened. Her grim thoughts were torn away was the barman came over with the tray and before Primal could dismiss the salt and lime, Jac made a grab for it.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a sourpuss,” she admonished him and started playing with the slices of citrus fruit. “At least have a bit of that, or I’m sending it all back, getting a bottle of sambuca, setting fire to it and we can have that instead.”

Twirling a shot glass between her fingers, she gave him a grin. “I’m not going to time you or anything. That wouldn’t be fair…” Despite his refusal, if she didn’t get one single smile out of him that night, Jac was going to be just a little bit disappointed. “C’mon, it’ll be a laugh. It's that or we chase the fanboys away...”
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Primal
Unregistered


Sambuca. He snorted and picked up one of the tiny glasses, inspecting it like it was a petri dish. Then he laughed without feeling and set it down and slapped a measure in each, ground his thumb into the salt and tossed one back. Chewing on a slice of lime, displeasure soured his face. Damn cats’ piss tasted better without the citrus.

He poured another shot, tequila slopping on the table. A foul grin uglied his features, Primal feeling suddenly mean and turning, the feral in him glazing across his eyes, pupils dilated. He’d stepped across some invisible line, snapping back into reflex.

"Hey guttersluts, you gettin' hard over there? Want my number, or d'you just wanna skip the fluff and fuck?"

The fanboys all paused mid-action, one curling his finger into his fist, stopped in the middle of a sentence, another's mouth frozen into a little 'o', another ready to down a mouthful of lager, hovering at the rim of his pint glass.

"Real cute. I bet you got a whole recruitment speech lined up. Bet you practiced it all night in front of your mirror didn'tcha, squeaking lines into your hairbrush about how you're gonna make the world a better place. Well here's a reality check for ya: the world's a fucking shitheap, and it ain't gettin' better. You think we're some kind of clean n mop squad? Grow up. The Brotherhood ain't a bunch of superhero poster kids. It's a soul-sucking black hole that uses any morals you thought you had as a toiletbrush.”

The pre-Brotherhood him was almost impossible to remember. He recalled a sense of buoyancy at being part of something bigger than himself, a sudden rush of belonging and meaning that existed without shape but had driven him forward until he had landed at the foot of a monster. But it hadn’t mattered, because whichever direction they turned --whatever they had to do-- it was without a doubt right, and they were justified.

"Shit."

That one had slipped out wet. Primal necked the shot and hammered the glass and frowned at the tray and wondered if that was really how he viewed his faction or if it was undirected rage, the alcohol tapping into that furious oil slick just under the surface. It swelled in him, something nasty and bloody pushing against his ribs. Everything he had done amounted to this: drinking too much with a girl barely legal in a bar that didn't suit him, both of them soldiers to a cause that had made them killers. He was no better than it, but this missing arm thing and Jesse's actions were messing with his head.

Gravely, he went on, "Go suck each other off; you chickenshits ain't gonna get lucky here."

He cracked his neck and levelled Jac an unreadable look.

"Happy?"
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Spitfire
Member Avatar
Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
Maybe the tequila had been a bad idea. Primal had gone from being relatively surly to absolutely atrocious in the space of a shot, although the behaviour did not so much shock her as…What, the young blonde wasn’t sure. She looked up to Primal as a big brother, not in the same way she had to Pietro, the two being very different people and their (dare she say it) friendship gave her very different things. Still, Pietro was gone, as was Remy which made Sanctuary a lonely place at times, not that she had really enjoyed the company of either while down there under the water. It was a sad realisation. Jac wasn’t totally alone however, especially not with her real brother and Tommy around, but Primal was a different sort of figure in her life.

Swirling her glass around on the tabletop, she scrunched up her nose a touch as Primal vented across the bar to their onlookers, then grinned, taking a shot quickly followed by the lick of salt and lime, her features turning into a grimace almost instantly before it melted back to normal. His rant lasted longer than she expected however and the girl raised an eyebrow, folding her arms on the table. Yeah, maybe the tequila had been a bad idea…

Chewing on a thumbnail, Jac laughed a little at his final words, turned, waved to the lads, then looked back at the saurian mutant, leaning across the table a touch so that her head was closer. “Happy? Amused at least. Are you alright?” she asked, aware that she had on previous occasions asked him a similar question and had never gotten a proper answer, but things were different now and the alcohol had maybe even loosened his tongue a little. Scrabbling around without looking for crisps, her hand caught the bag and she pulled them closer, eating one then offering the snack across the table to her fellow Acolyte. Fellow. Just the thought of it was weird.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Primal
Unregistered

'Alright' was a term relative to the amount of crap you could put up with before cracking. Yeah, he was alright; he was fine; he was dealing. What else was he supposed to do? Shit happens, you suck it up. One of the docs had offered to refer him to a shrink for some counselling, suggesting that losing a limb might have some kind of kooky psychological knock-on effect, a sort of PTSD for amputees. Primal had laughed in his face. Aside from fagging up the place with all that unnecessary emotional bullshit, whining about his lost arm wasn't going to bring it back. He wasn't a fucking gecko; he didn't have the capacity to sprout another, nor would rambling about it suddenly give him the power of regrowth. Similar sentiments extended to dribbling on about the past.

The fanboys had gathered into a suspicious huddle, hunched miserably over their table, discussing by the sounds of it a tactical retreat, their big shiny bubble slashed to mere shreds by an inebriated dinosaur. The dream had been shattered. One of them smelled ready to hit something, face like a pitbull. Primal hoped someone would get stupid and violent, and flexed his claws distractedly, eyeing the largest member amongst them; a spindly mutant with some kind of extra appendage on his back, indeterminate to the saurian's vision.

"Hey," he mused, avoiding her question, eyelids alcohol-heavy, "You coldclock that big dickhead n you might get that smile outta me."

Could Acloytes get banned from bars here? With this much booze in him, he wasn't beyond testing the possibility. A voice not unlike Magneto's rumbled like thunder in the back of his mind, something ominous about responsibility and setting examples for the rest of the community. Primal snorted and felt absurd, and turned into the table, tail twitching.

He lit up a cigarette and said, "So how's Timmy?", blasting gouts of smoke through his nostrils.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Spitfire
Member Avatar
Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
Something more like the Primal she was used to returned, avoiding the question like a pro. Jac was used to that, but it did annoy her. Answering the simple question would not weaken him in her eyes, change the way she thought about him or mean he would start cuddling kittens…There was more to it than that and the speedster knew it, but it would not stop her from asking all the same. One day, she might actually get an answer. Tipping the alcohol down her throat the girl shrugged a little. “I could I suppose, if that would be in any way fair and not an abuse of my station…If that’s even what I think it means anyway.”

Spitfire’s stomach was starting to growl and she hopped from her seat, zipping to the bar to swipe a basket of tortilla chips and jar of salsa, before returning to the table, dumping them down and resuming her perch in the time that it would have taken most people to lift their glass to drink.

“Want one?” Jac proffered the basket across the table, giving it a little shake. The bar was growing louder the later it got, filling up with residents of Sanctuary, members of the Brotherhood amongst that number. Members Jac now had to command. The thought was washed down with another shot and the girl gave a shudder, lowering her head, snapping it back up as soon as Primal asked his own question.

“It’s Tommy. You don’t ask about him.”

Her words were uncharacteristically sharp, followed by a moment of silence as she chewed on her chips, having doused them in a liberal amount of salsa first. If he wouldn’t answer all of her questions, then it was only fair there were off limits areas for her. Realising that she had never spoken to him in such a manner, Jac hastily cleared her throat and hoped he would put it down to the drink. Messing with her shot glass, the blonde gave her saurian drinking partner what she hoped was an amused smile and not a drunken leer.

“So…Back to the subject of pizza,” which was a touchy subject as she was bloody hungry by this point and the chips weren’t touching the sides, not even with their salsa bath. “You found a new bitch to take over from me in fetching you a olive free feast?”
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Primal
Unregistered

Primal sucked a long drag on the cigarette and eyed the spunky shortass and snorted as she piped up, squeaking something indignant about not asking about her precious little conquest. Touched a nerve, huh? He flicked ash and felt the stirrings of a grin tug at his mouth and slid his tongue across his bottom lip as if trying to wipe it away. Primal had been less than impressed when Magneto had briefed him on Jac's lapse in common sense, her reputation suddenly the equivalent of regurgitated chicken. He didn't give a shit about who she wanted to get wet over, but evidently there was such a massive gap in trust that she had to go sneak around, lingering on the periphery before bringing over the x-cunt, all swelled up on hormones and teenage lust.

She'd come in reeking of sex and Primal had ignored it, indifferent, who she fucked none of his business until it encroached on the safety of the city and the Brotherhood's security. She wasn't just some low-ranking red shirt, no longer a pizza jockey- she had built herself into a small pillar of the community and knew enough should she be compromised to bring it crashing to its knees. But it was also that, perhaps, that had saved her from serious shit; anyone else, Primal might have recommended violently demoting.

He let the grin smear cold across his face, seething a belch.

"Hey, hey; Jackie grew a pair of balls. So when the fuck did that happen? Before or after you got on your knees for Mr Three-Seconds-Flat?"
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Spitfire
Member Avatar
Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
Oh, and there it was. Jac wasn’t sure that she would ever understand Primal, much less why she devoted so much time to him. Was it out of the need for affirmation? Their first meeting had involved him jumping down her throat for quitting a mission that she felt there was no place for her on (the lack of structure too was playing a big part). Ever since then, the speedster felt like she had been trying to prove herself over and over to the saurian mutant and always, she felt it was pretty much in vain. Like now.

Primal still held rank over her; he had been an Acolyte longer, hell, there were people who had been in the Brotherhood longer than she was before her promotion, and Spitfire had no wish to use her new position to assert herself, but god, if it wasn’t tempting. Narrowing her blue eyes at him, Jac lifted the bottle of tequila and drank from it, emptying as much down her throat before standing up and slamming it back down on to the table they had been occupying for the last few hours.

“How’s Jesse?”

The question took even Jac by surprise and without even waiting for an answer, the girl turned and walked away from the table, a mixture of alcohol and adrenaline tiding her over until she reached the door of the bar, slamming out of it and pushing through a group of mutants who were making their way in. Standing outside, the blonde sagged against the wall, breathing deeply to calm herself before picking herself back up and heading home, leaving Primal to whatever he was internally beating himself over and intentionally or otherwise, taking out on her. Spitfire was sure he was not that vindictive, but she was of the notion he did not act the way he did, just to be an awkward bastard. Something was going on there, but as he would never tell her the only thing she could do was walk away.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Primal
Unregistered

Practised in the art of Pissing People Off, Primal knew exactly what buttons to press in order to elicit an angry response with the intention of pushing them away. Personal boundaries were overcomplicated. She'd grown curious and concerned enough to ask him if he was alright, and everything in him had jumped in the opposite direction. Which, in this case, was lashing out at the soft incision she'd opened up in letting the X-kid wriggle his way into her heart. It was easier to break friendships than keep them.

He'd expected a little strop, a twist on the heels and her flouncing out all butthurt and defensive, but her response surprised him. Pausing mid-swig, he watched her departure --what must have been a leisurely stroll-- through eyes narrowed in cold scrutiny, watching her thermal signature waver and squash and finally blend with the puce swirl of the swelling crowd's rising heat.

How's Jesse?

The question hung over him, ugly and black and heavy. Did Jac know? If the speedster had any clue as to what Jesse had done she showed no sign of it, no lingering stench of collusion, and Primal wasn't sure if that settled his stomach or made his nerves jump. When he and Jesse were the only persons involved there was an element of control he couldn't retain once it went beyond the radius of their relationship.

Grinding the half-smoked cig into the tabletop, Primal rode waves of inebriety while gazing glazed at the empty space in front of his nose. Something snapped, and he snarled and punched the table and spun and stalked towards the opposite exit without paying attention to the curious stares and the shrinking ignorance of a room of civilians who were several rungs higher on the ladder of evolution and yet when it came to business and minding their own, exactly the same as every other nosy fucker on the planet.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Sign-up Now
« Previous Topic · Sanctuary Archives · Next Topic »
Add Reply