[ He thinks of it, the place he rents here. It's a hole, but it has walls, and a roof, and heating in the winter. But it's also not far, and more private than an alley outside a bar.
John pushes himself off of Jessica, clearing his throat as he stands there, only wearing a long-sleeved shirt in November. The cold, at least, helps him keep his head clear. As clear as it can be when he knows that he's about to get laid which - look, it's not something that happens that often these days. His relationship with Sonja is fractured beyond repair, and he spends too much time planning rescue missions to really think about this.
With Jessica, there is a tiny bit of respite. Stolen moments he doesn't talk about to anyone - they'd probably start sending someone else if they knew, and John wouldn't even be able to disagree. ]
It's a few blocks away, [ he says, starting to walk. They're not exactly the kind to talk much, on account of the fact that they don't actually... like each other much, believe in different things, yadda yadda. If you'd asked John, he'd say it's all a pretty shitty defense mechanism for Jessica.
Still, he can't help himself, thinking she'd probably care to know. ]
That kid you helped, last time, Addy? She's doing well.
[ The air is crisp and sticks to her mouth, needles through the holes in her scarf and pricks her skin awake with gooseflesh. Her landlord's stingy about the heat, which her bank account appreciates -- or it just doesn't work. Jess is disinclined to ask. Considering how she spent her holidays last year, she doesn't foresee herself caring when December starts winding down. Instead of thinking about that, she lets herself get a step behind to drink up an eyeful of the purposeful walk that makes his ass look accidentally great. ]
I didn't ask. [ Ass. She flicks her gaze to the barred storefronts on the opposite side of the street, then behind them, briefly, out of habit. ]
[ Sometimes, he wonders if Jess is even aware of the rest of his abilities - not just the strength and invulnerability thing. He wonders if she realizes how he can very easily sense her eyes on him; it makes him smile, a slightly smug little thing that clings to the corners of his mouth while she's not looking. ]
Well, I'm telling you anyway.
[ Despite the weather, he's only wearing a rundown leather jacket on top of a long-sleeve shirt. It feels good - pleasant - to be out in the cold, compared to the sort of always a little sticky atmosphere of Atlanta. New-York is sharp, smells of gasoline and vomit, and somehow, makes John feel incredibly alive. ]
Also, Marcos says hello.
[ He also said, double-bag it, but she doesn't need to know that. ]
[ She knows about his other abilities -- awareness is something else entirely. If she thinks about it too much, it's back to a life of celibacy for him and at least a week-long, uninterrupted bender for her. As long as he never quite likes her, she figures the risk of intimate gestures is small. If he needs that, he can find somewhere else to get it. So, again, celibacy.
She rolls her eyes, though she does commit to recalling Marcos's face and that's better than most casual mentions get. He was part of the original away team she crossed paths with, forming a tenuous don't-ask-don't-tell pact that's mutated (get it) into a barely sustainable work relationship. For instance, she thought Marcos's name was Carlos, so. ]
Not the rest of the Funky Bunch? [ She sounds drolly disappointed. It was that or "Oh hi, Mark." ]
[ He snorts - they'd hate that nickname. Lorna, especially; but Lorna already disliked Jess. Lorna disliked practically everyone, but even more other women who played on the same lengths she herself did. She liked to think she had her little corner for herself. ]
Haven't told them where I was going.
[ Outside of the broad strokes, anyway. Supplies, checking in, the usual. Sonia would just have been too obvious about her dislike if she knew, and Lorna would have teased him to no end. Better to keep it to Marcos - someone needs to know just in case he needs back-up. ]
D'you want to grab some dinner? My place is upstairs from a Chinese. We can eat it in bed.
[ Good. She figures that goes without saying because with saying would be too much like asking him for something. A former X-hole ought to be able to keep a secret, if none of his other credentials apply. ]
As long as it's crappy Chinese. [ She catches up to him in stride with two quick steps. Her forehead is slightly pleated while clearing her head of the slurry of invoked images, recollections of mystical ninja bullshit soaked in enough sobriety to give her the first tingles of a headache. She can assuage it knowing she made the right decision, keeping her involvement there out of the airwaves. Less for John to use against her when she takes his beliefs to task.
Trying to come up with what she wants has her drawing a blank, which isn't unusual. Malcolm tries to get her to eat better but their meal philosophies fundamentally differ. For Jess it's always in service of drinking or fucking, so anything with carbs works just as well. Flattening her lips wryly, she adds, ] And I can work up an appetite.
[ Suppressing a snort, John nods. They can go down to the restaurant later, grab potstickers and chow mein and call it a meal. It's not like he eats well himself - most of the supplies go to refugees, so even now that he's out of the military, he's still living on MREs. ]
Sure. We can work up an appetite first.
[ Another minute, and they're walking past the shitty chinese restaurant storefront to his building door, tucked in between two buildings. Up two flights of stairs, and they're there. It's sparse, no need to decorate a hole in a wall he barely spends any time in, but it's functional. ]
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no subject
Date: 2017-11-08 09:54 am (UTC)John pushes himself off of Jessica, clearing his throat as he stands there, only wearing a long-sleeved shirt in November. The cold, at least, helps him keep his head clear. As clear as it can be when he knows that he's about to get laid which - look, it's not something that happens that often these days. His relationship with Sonja is fractured beyond repair, and he spends too much time planning rescue missions to really think about this.
With Jessica, there is a tiny bit of respite. Stolen moments he doesn't talk about to anyone - they'd probably start sending someone else if they knew, and John wouldn't even be able to disagree. ]
It's a few blocks away, [ he says, starting to walk. They're not exactly the kind to talk much, on account of the fact that they don't actually... like each other much, believe in different things, yadda yadda. If you'd asked John, he'd say it's all a pretty shitty defense mechanism for Jessica.
Still, he can't help himself, thinking she'd probably care to know. ]
That kid you helped, last time, Addy? She's doing well.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-21 05:48 pm (UTC)I didn't ask. [ Ass. She flicks her gaze to the barred storefronts on the opposite side of the street, then behind them, briefly, out of habit. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-11-22 04:05 pm (UTC)Well, I'm telling you anyway.
[ Despite the weather, he's only wearing a rundown leather jacket on top of a long-sleeve shirt. It feels good - pleasant - to be out in the cold, compared to the sort of always a little sticky atmosphere of Atlanta. New-York is sharp, smells of gasoline and vomit, and somehow, makes John feel incredibly alive. ]
Also, Marcos says hello.
[ He also said, double-bag it, but she doesn't need to know that. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-11-22 06:13 pm (UTC)She rolls her eyes, though she does commit to recalling Marcos's face and that's better than most casual mentions get. He was part of the original away team she crossed paths with, forming a tenuous don't-ask-don't-tell pact that's mutated (get it) into a barely sustainable work relationship. For instance, she thought Marcos's name was Carlos, so. ]
Not the rest of the Funky Bunch? [ She sounds drolly disappointed. It was that or "Oh hi, Mark." ]
no subject
Date: 2017-11-27 03:17 pm (UTC)Haven't told them where I was going.
[ Outside of the broad strokes, anyway. Supplies, checking in, the usual. Sonia would just have been too obvious about her dislike if she knew, and Lorna would have teased him to no end. Better to keep it to Marcos - someone needs to know just in case he needs back-up. ]
D'you want to grab some dinner? My place is upstairs from a Chinese. We can eat it in bed.
no subject
Date: 2017-11-28 08:01 am (UTC)As long as it's crappy Chinese. [ She catches up to him in stride with two quick steps. Her forehead is slightly pleated while clearing her head of the slurry of invoked images, recollections of mystical ninja bullshit soaked in enough sobriety to give her the first tingles of a headache. She can assuage it knowing she made the right decision, keeping her involvement there out of the airwaves. Less for John to use against her when she takes his beliefs to task.
Trying to come up with what she wants has her drawing a blank, which isn't unusual. Malcolm tries to get her to eat better but their meal philosophies fundamentally differ. For Jess it's always in service of drinking or fucking, so anything with carbs works just as well. Flattening her lips wryly, she adds, ] And I can work up an appetite.
no subject
Date: 2017-12-07 03:09 pm (UTC)Sure. We can work up an appetite first.
[ Another minute, and they're walking past the shitty chinese restaurant storefront to his building door, tucked in between two buildings. Up two flights of stairs, and they're there. It's sparse, no need to decorate a hole in a wall he barely spends any time in, but it's functional. ]
Make yourself at home.