The Art of Shamelessness [closed]

[Jager]

Hemet her eye to eye here, figuratively and quite literally. He realized the ground he tread on was dangerous enough, and given the result of his actions once today, he'd not bother fighting with her again. “Fine.” He'd take the rag, ball it up and toss it to her. And by tossing it to her, he honestly just threw it in her face, mostly gentle. “Clean yourself, there's a mirror on the wall.” That was that, if anything it made it a little more easier to brush off, her attitude and all. He spun the chair back around and pushed it back into the table before snatching one of the bottles from the crate. “Other one is yours, stale smokes, too.” He didn't care if they were stale or not, they were smoke-able.

 

“Anyways,stay here if you need. I'll most likely find another bed for the night.” He wrinkles his nose at her, sniffing the air. “It's yours.” And with that he'd plop down on the edge of the table before ripping the work out with his teeth.

 

 

Bottoms

up.

[Zhavi]

The cloth hit Zhi in the face, and she let go of Jager's wrist. The cloth dropped to her lap. She watched him. For once, she didn't have anything else to say. Scratch that: she didn't have anything she wanted to say. She got off the bed instead, limped to the mirror, and started wiping.

 

"I owe ye one," she said, stiff and uncomfortable. "But I need another favor."

[Jager]

He was using the chair to tip back in order to help him tip his bottle back. Air was traded for whiskey. He'd lean forward with a slow tip and when all four legs hit he'd roll into it and twist to eye her, "You serious? What do you even need right now? Besides a bed of ice.." Lame joke was lame. "If you need me to beat up any of your friends, too, I'm done for the night." He watched her curiously at the mirror though, seeing only half her face- the worst side, while she dabbed at the fresh blood. 

 

It was going to hurt so bad in the morning. He'd be impressed if she could get out of bed.

[Zhavi]

Zhi didn't do a thorough job with her face. A kid running scared? Yeah. It'd be messy. "I need ye t' . . . toss Joz's room."

[Jager]

"Toss her room? The hell are you talking about?" He stood up with a grunt, one he shouldn't been aloud to make given her state of being and walked towards her. He'd stand behind so that she could see him in the mirror. "Explain?"

[Zhavi]

Zhi tipped her head to the side. Winced. Watched Jager's reflection. "Lalataru has a. . .hirelin'. So I have t'keep a room as Joz. Th' hirelin' -- big roe -- comes . . . t' give her food an' some teachin'." She stopped, swallowed, waited out the pain. "Joz is gettin' chased, an' she needs t'be flushed out . . . so Lalataru is the only option she's got left. Which means . . . her room needs tossin'. Ain't much there."

[Jager]

He looked jaded in a strange way, almost annoyed. He knew it was a favor, but in the end it felt like part two to this god awful plan. He stared at her long and hard from the reflection in the mirror for a good minute before shrugging, "Fine." He stood a few inches above her, and given the placement it was strange to chis close to her. She stunk. She was dirty, and he felt an itch along his scalp. 

 

Lice Paranoia. 

 

Everything itches now. Always. 

 

"Are there anymore favors floating about? Might as well get them all out while I'm drinking." Drink.

[Zhavi]

Zhi's grin was instinctual, and followed quickly by a quiet grunt of pain. She let her face fall back into a nothing expression, newer and sharper throbbing taking her mind away from any stubbornness she might have been inclined to hold. "New smokes?" Her voice was decidedly hopeful.

[Jager]

He crossed his arms and studied her for a few seconds, mostly that eye, before shaking his head with an amused snicker. Bottle in hand, he'd head for the only window in the room facing the city's port. "You're a trip." Simple as that. Sipping from his bottle, he'd sway lazily towards the latch that kept it locked and swung it open. It was a straight drop down to the waters below, a clean drop from what he'd studied; he'd not trust it, however. The idea was always there in the back of his head, should a situation dire enough warrant the the jump. 

 

"How long you been doing this, anyways?" He dug around for a stale cigarette of his own. It wouldn't be until he lit it, that he'd wrinkle his nose and glance back at her. These were stale.

[Zhavi]

Turning from the mirror back to the bed, Zhi sat down on it carefully. She laid out flat with a groan. Likely she'd be doing everything with a groan, soon enough. "Forever," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

 

Could be she sounded especially young just then.

[Jager]

He took a drag of the cigarette before blowing it out the window towards the evening sky. As he spoke, smoke rose from his lips and poured out his nostrils, "Heh.. forever. It always feels like that, doesn't it?" There was no sarcasm in his words, nor was there any attitude. "I've been snatching purses since as far back as I could remember, prolly the moment I exited me mother's womb." He took a mighty swill of whiskey and leaned in to hand her his bottle. He wasn't kind enough to get her own and uncork it for her; he was lazy, too- this was quicker. 

 

"How long you been with this employer? It's been too long for me with mine." But that was Rourk for you, he always had a way of owning someone for great periods of time. No debt was ever paid off with him, no matter how close he seemed to make it.

 

"Ever think of sometimes just pickin' up and disappearing. Take what you know an try to run the show yourself?" He laughs and looks away from her then back to the ocean. "Ownin' a ship can put big ideas in your head, ya know that?" He was more or less rambling on at this point, slightly drunk. Where did his cigarette go- oh, hanging from his lips, right.

[Zhavi]

Zhi had continued with a muttered "since I last had good smokes, too," at the tail end of the word 'forever,' but it fell beneath Jager's words. She wasn't sure if he heard her. Didn't really matter if he hadn't. There was a calmness in the room that she hadn't experienced for a while. A slow breeze moved in past the open window, stirring the warm air. It felt nice.

 

She reached out a hand to take the bottle, but was unable to quite reach it. Rather than make the effort to sit up, she simply left her arm outstretched, hand limp as she waited for him to tip it just a bit closer her way.

 

The first question he posed she didn't answer, choosing instead to remain silent as he kept talking. And he was talking, was more talkative than he'd been since she'd met him. She thought she knew what that meant, and because she owed him she didn't tease him for his apparent weakness, even if she thought it ridiculous that he should be so skittish about what had occurred.

 

His last question confused her. "I don't. . .want that," she said, thinking of Galleon and Thatcher. "But I want t' . . . call me own shots. Tired o'sleepin' wi' lice an' fleas."

[Jager]

He'dhold it out no further than what he'd extended already. It was mostly because he wasn't looking, but if he had he'd have rolled his eyes and mocked her for needing to be babied this time around. Not that he could blame her, but he could take even more jabs; these to her ego. But his attention was scanning the coast, dark yellow eyes watched the row of lanterns sift in and out of darkness. That was his ship, Fortune's Dagger, drifting in and out of existence as it eluded any of Limsa's naval forces.

 

“Iruttin' mean it, if you leave your fleas in my bed, I'm going to bruise those ribs again.” Joking, but his tone didn't express it. To anyone else, it would have came off as a dead serious threat. But to these two, it was casual banter. “A shame you don't bathe like a regular person. I'd offer you the bed on nights I weren't here.” He kept nothing valuable in here but his smokes and his drink. Give or take on the whores.

 

 

Thistime he'd glance over his shoulder at her and he'd lean away from the window. The air was cold, wet.. salty; inside his room, stale, warm.. smelled like low tide. That was all thanks to her. “Here-” Bottle presented, “If you're interested in some extra work of my own, I could always take you aboard the ship. I run some grunt errands, but..” shrug, “Pay is Pay.”

[Zhavi]

"Uh huh," Zhi's tone was just as flat. "What, I can't smell that sour. Been keepin' washed fer one o'me takes -- Cap'n don't seem t'like dirty streetrunners." Her words were slow, with frequent breaks. Even her lips throbbed. "So I gets me a scrub afore I see him. Can't be that bad."

 

She stretched that little bit more, and connected. The contents of the bottle were chugged, but not finished. She broke off with a gasp, and held it back up. "Once all o'this is done, I might take ye up on that. Mebbe. Long as yer coin's good."

 

Humor was present in her voice, but the smile was resisted.

 

"Fer now, I need ye t'toss th'room. Night's good; Styrm shouldn't be there at night."

[Jager]

“Fuckoff, if you're seriously going to question my coin against my word.” That line worked wonders in irritating him, so much that he'd even roll his eyes as he returned to the window. She was downing his bottle; he'd take hers instead. “Besides, you smell ruttin' awful. Why?” It was a legit question, too. Why did she always smell like low tide. The fleas, the lice, the hygiene.. or lack of it. She was a street runner, he got it. He was a street runner, too- but he didn't smell or look anywhere as bad as she did.

 

Shehad work, yet she lived in a hole- at least from what he'd seen. She had quick hands, yet she always wore ragged scraps that even a bum would be insulted to be seen in. And lastly, he was her contrast, the white to her black and she'd hadn't tried to dig on him since they met.

 

 

“I'lltoss the room before the sun rises, by the way. I'm going down for another bottle.. want one?” There was that awkward pause as he glanced back with a forced glare. “I think this one will compensate for the ribs, yeah?” Asshole.

[Zhavi]

Zhi stared at Jager over the bottle. Her face was just starting to swell; red marks were starting to deepen and mature. In a day or two she would be a marvelous explosion of color.

 

"Ye still on about th'beatin'? Gerroff it. I asked ye to, what, ye think I'll change me mind an' start gabbin' at ye? Nothin' but yer own mind kickin' at ye over't. Gaw, I think yer snivelin's hurtin' worse'n th'beatin'."

 

Getting personal wasn't exactly her idea of a nice afterparty to their tangle in the street.

[Jager]

He'djust roll his eyes and tossed the bottle that had been set for her on the table, over to where she lay in the bed. “Should have aimed for that jaw, I'm thinkin'.” He glances back long enough to see where exactly the bottle lands. Hopefully on her ridiculously large head. He'd end the night right then if that could happen.

 

“Iain't snivilin', either. Just makin' sure you're able to complete your side of the job.” He slams the door behind him, not even bothering to stick around and listen for another snarky comment. She got under his skin when she tried for the last word. Somewhere along the way, he'd swing outside to enjoy a fresh smoke of his own from a fresh new bag before heading back up. A part of him just wanted to keep it to himself. The other part just wanted to pelt it at her face and be done with her for the night.

 

 

Hesure knew how to pick em'.

[Zhavi]

"Ye did," she said. She rolled her open eye. It hurt. The bottle hit her in her shoulder, after she fumbled it. Depth perception, one eye -- the result was the same so she didn't put up a fuss about it. She finished up the one he'd handed her and went to work opening the new one.

 

What'd he want? He thought after they shared some fists and bruises she was going to tell her life story? What'd that even matter, anyways? It didn't affect her work, and that was all that was between them.

 

Work.

 

The bottle was empty by the time he returned.

[Jager]

Whatdid he want? Hell, what had he expected? Like the awkward quality time spent with a much hated in-law, he was forced to endure her ripe stench and awkward aftermath of beating her down. “So, how arethe kids? How is work? Did you talk to the home owners association about that dog pooping on your lawn again?” Yeah, it sounded alittle like that. 'Ever think of calling your own shots? How long you been doing this? Why do you stink?'

 

Sure.It was something like that. Something.

 

“Afterthis, you can get your own.” Both tobacco and booze were set on the table beside her bed, and his ass planted right beside them. He'd use it as a chair while putting his back once more to the woman so he could stare out into the dark horizon once more. He hadn't seen the lights on his ship for some time now. Days, almost a week.

 

 

“Headingout after this, by the way.”

[Zhavi]

"Aw." Zhi propped her head up on her arm. Carefully. "Pity ran out?"

 

Not that she expected him to reply. She didn't give him time to. "Ye comin' back?"

[Jager]

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. 

 

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.

[Zhavi]

. . .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.

[Jager]

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. 

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. 

 

"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.

[Zhavi]

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.

[Jager]

*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. 

 

"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." 

 

"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. 

 

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."