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+--- Thread: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] (/showthread.php?tid=7355)
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-06-2014
There were too many things he could have said- there were too many things he wanted to say. In the end, he went with saying nothing, and slammed the door behind him. Somewhere in between her last mocking comment, he'd grab the bag of tobacco and stuffed it into his pocket along with both hands. Eyes were rolled, naturally, and when he reached the door, he simply let himself out. Yeah, sure- he was all out of pity, but she was all out of smokes, too.Â
Damn shame. He'd check back in on her in a few hours, maybe. That was all dependent on just how long he'd be with Leila Johnson. The damn wench was gettin' spoiled, but so too was he.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-06-2014
. . .He didn't have to take the smokes.
Zhi patted down her pockets, looking for any pitiful excuse for something she could shove between her lips and light on fire. She found something -- something a little different from what he'd been serving her -- and stuffed it into her mouth. She didn't have a light. Gods above, she didn't have a light.
"Yer a ruttin' scrag," she said to the ceiling, intending the words for a certain deity who held a fondness for scales.
So was her evening spent nursing another bottle and amusing herself with staring out the window and imagining various scenarios happening to various people in and around the city. Some of them she held a fair inkling of their activities. Like Jager. She wondered if she should rein it in a little, keep him fat and happy until she no longer needed to assure herself of his . . .
yup, she was drunk. The lights spun and pulsed. Her body ached. Singing snatches of tavern ditties in a voice that should never be used for singing, Zhi eventually passed out. Alone. As usual.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-06-2014
There was drunken laughter staggering along the hallway leading to his room, the same room that Zhavi was staying in. She was more than capable of picking up and removing herself for the day, but he had suspected she would mooch for as long as possible. He had no one to blame but himself. Whatever, he'd be dealing with her in a second, whether he realized or not.Â
If Zhavi were still in the room, she'd hear Jager stumbling as he walked, no doubt drunk again but this time with someone else. A woman, and judging by her squeaky voice and the way she practically cackled when she laughed, it had to be none other than Leila. He knew what she wanted; she knew what he wanted. The two did business on a whole new level, it made transitions with the banged up mi'quote in his room look like a joke.
He fumbled with the key, he took another swig and eventually kicked the door open with the whore dangling from his neck while he held her in his arms. He might not have been as plastered as she was, but he was drunk enough to forget about Zahvi laying in his bed completely.Â
"You still here?" He wore his 'oh shit' face, but hid it behind a drunken, shit-eating grin. He could feel Leila's grip tighten around his neck, and not in the good way, either.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-06-2014
Sleeping was better than being awake. If that meant drinking enough until she puked and passed out. . .well, maybe she wasn't about to go that far, but she meant to get past the next few days as smoothly as possible. Mostly by laying in bed, drinking herself silly, and only getting up to crouch over the pot or acquire food. Somehow.
Cue the noise of footsteps in the hall. Closer, and closer. A whore's voice was evident, one that she recognized. Knowing Jager's habits . . . yup, there he was. Stupid face and all. Zhi squinted with her good eye; the other had swollen nearly shut. "Ahh, jes in time. Here, be a pet an' fetch me some grub." She dug out a coin and flipped it Leila's way.
Was her expression smug? Maybe just a little, underneath all the swelling.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-06-2014
*Smack!* Suddenly, he wasn't grinnin' so big anymore. Then again, suddenly the whore wasn't being held up, either. *Thunk* He'd dropped her almost the instant she had slapped him, more so out of shock than spite. But if he had the chance to do it all over again, he'd have thrown her out the damn window, instead.Â
"Jager! She was far too busy trying to fix her cleavage rather than pick herself up off the wooden floor. He quickly steps in front of Leila and tries to give her a helping hand, but that too is smack away. "Don't touch me you ruttin' pig! What is she doing in here?" Acquaintances? "You're seriously aren't.. Oh. Oh my." Red in the face, lavish anger shifts into pitiful disgust with a touch of humility. Jager had abandoned her on the floor and made for the table with an almost empty bag of smokes when she tried to yell at him. Already with one hand up in the air, she'd shove it back against her face and push it away, it was as rude and disrespectful as he could be to anyone right now.
"Z, beat it." Like that would happen. "Need the room."Â
"Hah, to what? Go'en jack it yourself? You can go ruttin' stick yourself, you dog." Without much to it, she picked herself up off the floor, gave his business partner the dirtiest look, then stormed out past him. Jager didn't really seem to care if she was leaving. But then she just had to flip a coin at the poor whore. The fact that it plinked right off her forehead made this all the more unbelievable. Seriously, did that coin just.. "You little.." Up on her feet and baring both fist and fang, the whore was getting ready to rush poor defenseless Zhavi. Or at least, she was going to try. A loud yelp and a series of girlish shrieks was all that followed next.
"Leave." That's all he told her as he drug her by her hair, so casually that it made him look all the more disgusting as a person. If this was how comfortably he could treat a woman, there was no telling just how little morals mattered to him. She kicked and clawed and cried her eyes out, and when she was given a rough shove out into the hallway, he'd just slam the door in her face.Â
She kicked and screamed and pounded at the door like a child with a tantrum, but none of it did anything to change the captain's mind. All he seemed interested in doing was rolling a fresh cigarette before leaning up against the window, bottle in hand. "Told you to leave last night. Thanks."
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-07-2014
Zhi's lips moved in a complicated pattern as she did her best not to smirk. She didn't succeed very well, even despite the pain; watching Jager get slapped around by a whore was exactly the sort of entertainment she'd been lacking. But his own manhandling of Leila wasn't so amusing, for various reasons. Once he got himself leaning up against the window her gaze had turned speculative.
"That weren't very nice," she said, turning to eye the door. It was shuddering on its hinges. Had the girl taken a shine to Jager? Did she have some sort of amorous regard for him? That was dangerous for a doxy. Real dangerous. Almost best Zhi had inadvertently put a wedge between them before the bint got herself hurt past reckoning.
"But I am real hungry," she said. The pounding on the door ceased. Zhi had a suspicion the girl was waiting on the other side, listening to the conversation. She had it bad. "Think ye could score me some grub?"
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-09-2014
The stood now with his back to the sea and his glare on Zhavi. His arms were crossed and his eyes narrowed. The drunken, stumbling, horny captain that she'd seen enter the room was long gone. A blue-balled, buzz-killed, libido robbed sailor remained. He'd not even answer her, he'd just stare. If looks could kill, she'd be splattered across the entire room in the blink of an eye.Â
"Pick up your shit, you're leaving tonight." He grits his teeth and waits for another cocky remark. He silently begs for it. He yearns for the second she says anything that isn't 'ouch' or 'hiss' from moving the wrong way. She wouldn't even get that chance, honestly. He had reached for the pillow underneath her head and snatched it out from under her. It looked like some fancy waiter setting the table for an exquisite party, only this wasn't exquisite, or fancy. This was just Jager pissed at the cockblock making demands in his bed. He scratches his head, too. Seconds later, she is smashed with that same pillow. Again and again and again. Pillow fights were fun, cute and sometimes sexy... until a man steps in.
"Get. The. Ruttin'. Hell. Out!" Half of it is frustration, half of it is held back, she was in bad enough shape as it was. He didn't care about that- he just cared about the job getting finished, and if he broke her completely, he could kiss this one goodbye.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-09-2014
"Make --"
In retrospect, taunting Jager when he was clearly in a mood was not the best idea ever. Her head hit the bed, and then the pillow hit her face. Pain erupted, fast and sharp, and she bellowed with the surprise of it. That, and it rutting hurt.
"Hey! Ow -- ow, ow ow -- wait -- ow, feck, hey -- OW!"
Somewhere in the flurry of blows, under the pain and the indignity of being bludgeoned with a rutting pillow, of all things, anger ignited. First order was curling up into the fetal position, second was grabbing the hated source of her pain and taking it away from him. Her first and second grabs missed, the third connected but it was soon wrenched away from her grip. She missed again on the fourth, and pain be damned, she lunged and got one hand on it and the other wrapped around it. She had a good grip.
She was grinning at him, furious and riled, and grit out through her teeth, "I ain't in th'shape t'play wi'ye, laddo. If ye didn't want me here, ye should've taken me somewhere else. Un-der-stand?"
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-09-2014
Jager wailed on her for as long as he could. With each feeble grasp, he swung wider and higher, hoping she wouldn't win the pillow back. It was inevitable, but she would, and when he felt her tugging it didn't take much for him to relinquish his own grip. "Get. Out. Get. Out. Why can't you let me have just this one thing tonight!" He takes three steps away from her and puts his hips up against the window's ledge and sighs. Shoulders drop, ears fall forward, and his entire demeanor-- like him --sinks. He slides down so that he's sitting on his rear end, both legs are bent at the knees and left spread while the back of each wrist presses down on them.Â
"Why tonight," he mutters to himself, hardly caring if she heard or not. "Listen, Z. I did my part, you need to step up soon and cover your half of this plan." He scratches his head again. Furiously.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-09-2014
He let go, and she whomped back onto the bed with a dispirited oof of escaping air. She sat there for a moment, paralyzed, a high pitched whine forming at the back of her throat and escaping her mouth like the first wail of a boiling kettle. Then she got a grip on herself, and glowered at him. "Can't ye. . .jes go t'an alley? Plenty doxies get shimmied up against alley walls." She would have given a demonstrative hip-thrust, but gods if it didn't just hurt too much.
"I tol' ye, three suns. Did ye hear me, or are ye too busy payin' heed t'yer cock?"
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-09-2014
He fumbled around aimlessly for the smokes that were left on top of the table above him. Eventually he'd pull one out and stuffed it in between his lips with a sigh. "I shouldn't need an alley.. when I have my own room." Eye roll. "Just forgot I had a guest. One that ain't really good for much, either. Not right now, at least."Â
He feels around in his pockets, his pants, then shirt. Bang bang bang, head to the wall; its about the only action he's getting tonight. "Light?"
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-09-2014
"Ain't got one. Asides, ye agreed to't. Not like I jes showed up all beat t'scales' emptiness. Piss'n'rot, ye act like I'm a beggar what set up camp in yer room."
Somehow, the pain was getting worse. That wasn't right. She didn't deserve that. Her good eye was watering (he'd gotten her several times in the nose), and she grit her teeth against the ensuing waves. Oh, she glared. "Ain't me fault yer forgetful an' half-witted. Won't do it in an alley. Tch." The last was muttered to herself as she gingerly righted herself on the bed and laid back with a groan.
It was possible the extra nuances of pain were overexaggerated. But, of course, Zhi would never do that. Not ever.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-09-2014
He felt no remorse for the pain he instilled in her. None what so ever. She'd been inconveniently left where he put her, and ironically he'd forgotten about that. So yeah, he was a bit of a half-witted moron, but that's not what you say to a man who lost his lady for the night.Â
Bang. Bang. Bang.
No light. No sex. No bed. Itch.. itch.. itch.Â
He accepts defeat and glances up at her pitiful whining. He honestly doesn't care if she's in pain, she brought this upon herself. But he does look up at her, and he does arch an eyebrow, even if just comically.Â
"Heh, how's that jaw of yours? It still work?" He snickers and shakes his head. He doesn't plan on elaborating, it's more a joke for himself, where laughter must be sought, before another beating ensues.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Zhavi - 07-09-2014
"More like lackwit. I'm still talkin' t'ye, ain't I? If yer gonna be useless, go an' get me some grub. Shit. Like I want t'be stuck in here any more'n ye want me here." Now she'd gone in for grumbling. He was spared a long and rambling diatribe by the fact that for all that nothing was busted to the point of incapacitation, it hurt enough.
It took a lot to get her to shut up like that.
Score one for Jager.
RE: The Art of Shamelessness [closed] - Jager - 07-09-2014
"Heh, if it's not broke.. then shut it before I break it for real. Ooor find a better use for it right now." Bang. He wasn't sure how much longer he was going to sit there, but he was far to wound up for his own good. A couple coins were thrown at her and from there he'd rise back up to his feet. "Move." He didn't even wait for her to comply, or to even consider the command. Her legs were given a mean shove out of the way and he replaced the spot with his own. With a little more shoving and prodding, he could just very well reclaim some of his bed back.Â
"You can get your own ruttin' food, bum."