The Art of Shamelessness [closed]

[Zhavi]

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?"

[Jager]

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. 

 

"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.

[Zhavi]

"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?"

[Jager]

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. 

 

"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.

[Zhavi]

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?"

[Jager]

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." 

 

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?"

[Zhavi]

"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.

[Jager]

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. 

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

No light. No sex. No bed. Itch.. itch.. itch. 

 

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. 

 

"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.

[Zhavi]

"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.

[Jager]

"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. 

 

"You can get your own ruttin' food, bum."

[Zhavi]

Oh. No. He. Didn't.

 

True, Zhi picked up the coins automatically (habit from a lifetime spent scrounging for money would do that to you), but that didn't stop her ears from folding flat to her head, or a line of fur down her tail from puffing up. She pulled one of her legs back and jerked it forward, aiming at arm or side or hip or whatever was open to being pushed at by a foot.

 

"Ruttin' scrag, has yer cock scrambled yer head fer true? I can't leave th'room until I'm ready t'go an' see Lalataru! Ain't gonna risk bein' seen an' bendin' me own take over fer a blimmin' ass-ruttin'! Are ye deaf or jes daft?"

[Jager]

He'd throttle the bitch, he swear he'd have to. Kick, shove, stomp- she did whatever she could to try and remove him from what was rightfully his; the bed. It was one thing to be put out for a few days, but another to be harassed so annoyingly for it, too. And to top things off, yeah, he just might have been thinkin with the wrong head. So scrambled or not, he practically growled his next words.

 

"I don't even ruttin' care about Lalataru at this point. Get out, or move over, Z." 

 

Just minutes ago, he was pressed up against (and pressing against) the gal J had brought home. The poor little mi'quote was playing with fire, this is not how you handle a ticking time bomb who is blue in the luggage. 

 

"Tomorrow we move on with it. And I swear if I have your fleas.. you're going out that window."

 

Itch. Itch. ITCH!

[Zhavi]

A subvocal growl was Jager's reply to his demand, and then a grudging shift to the side. But not by too much. "No. I've others in on th'take, lookin' t'sweeten th'pot afore I move. Ain't feckin' this take, Jager. Yer own stubborn ass prattlin' at me or no."

 

She eyed him askance, more for the itching than the idiotic way he was acting. She hadn't been itching all that much. Why was he?

 

She slowly scooted a bit further away from him.

[Jager]

Whatever buzz he had was killed for the night, and probably or the rest of the week, too! The captain crossed booth arms and legs while he laid with his feet stretched out far. He didn't even bother with kicking his boots off; these sheets needed to burn. 

 

"Somethin', anythin' we're gettin' you a place of yer own. Not doing this anymore." Whether she scooted off far or moved in close, he wasn't budging an inch. His night was spent, ruined and thrown back in his face. There was no salvaging this, and right now his fucks were at an all time low; zero was an understatement. "You do whatever you will, I'm grabbin' some shuteye." 

 

She was right, about the whole plan and all. Pushing it now would only compromise all parties involved, himself included. He was pissed, simple as that. He knew this, too, but try getting a drunken, sex-robbed captain to admit to the bullshit that came out of his mouth. She wasn't even apart of his crew and he about threw her into the sea. That window would have one jumping out, soon. He was sure of it.

[Zhavi]

Zhi had no qualms about sleeping double with another person in the bed -- she had a dagger, after all, and wasn't afraid to use it if anything that she didn't like should happen. Not that it was likely to happen, but the dagger and her own pragmatism had long since chased away any anxiety she might have otherwise felt. As for propriety, well, that had been gone much longer. If she'd ever had it to begin with. Had she? She honestly couldn't remember.

 

Her stomach growled.

 

Zhi pushed and pulled herself out of the bed with several moans and epithets and piteous whines, and strode over to the door. She opened it, leaned out, and caught the girl (besotted fool) quickly walking away.

 

"Oy. Leila. Yeah, talkin' t'ye. Ye want yer coin? Go buy me food."

[Jager]

Jager simply rolled his eyes beforeclosing them. He'd stretch out on the bed with both arms and legs crossed, uncaring of what became of the two by the door. Leila, as heated as she was, was liable to rush the damn runner and tear her down for robbing her of a well paid night. At least most of it was about the money, there was that bit about wanting to spend time with Jager, but he or she wouldn't elaborate.

 

“Just get it yourself, you lazyscab.” He yawns.

 

His scalp itched and he knew damn wellwhy; it enraged him to think about it, too. So he wouldn't. He wouldn't even scratch the damn thing, maybe instead he'd just cut the hair and kill them all off. Or, maybe he'd just shave the woman bald, instead. Maybe prevent her from getting them again. Either way, he takes up the right side of the bed and seems content enough with that.

 

 

“What happens if this plan doesn'twork?” He is so casually dismissive of all that has happened tonight. At least on the surface.

[Zhavi]

Leila wasn't a fighter. But she was a woman, and she had her pride, and she was furious.

 

Zhi was counting on her. Zhi knew about Leila. More than Leila knew about Zhi. And as untrained a fighter as Zhi was, she still knew more about it then Leila. Even with her body stiff and sore. So, when Leila came stomping back, looking to slap Zhi or pull her hair or any other means of venting her frustration that was widespread gossip about the lass, Zhi sidestepped around and pushed her flush up against the doorframe, dagger-point up and under her chin.

 

"Get me food or don't get me food. Ain't such a big fuss, hey? But I swear on yer ol' mam if ye even so much as breathe a word that ye saw me here, there'll be tears shed an' they sure as scarlet won't be mine. Here's yer pay fer th'day, an' a tip asides. Come back in a few suns an' ye can spend a whole week wi' his worthless hide. Ain't skin off me tail. Understand?"

 

The knife-point dug into the lass' neck. Zhi held up the coin in her other hand, held it out. Leila's eyes were wide and glossy, but there was also something of a defeated air about her. Leila had been in plenty bad situations before. Leila knew what it was to be beaten. Leila knew a good deal when she saw one. She opened up one of her hands. The coin made a pretty sound as it fell into her palm.

 

"Hag," Leila spat when she was further down the hall and sufficiently out of reach. Zhi limped back inside and shut the door. She sighed.

 

"Now yer jes bein' a damn bother yerself. Bet ye fifteen gil ye won't see this side of her arse again, heh. Ye up fer a game o'dice? Ain't gonna be sleepin' now I've gone an' set everythin' t'achin'."

 

She sat down at his table, slowly shoving the empty bottles and cigarette stubs out of the way. "If I get meself killed, then Brindle will finish up me own part in it, and ye can pick up th'job wi' Thatcher. C'mon." She crooked a finger at him, expectant.

[Jager]

Meanwhile,Jager sat somewhat propped against the headrest while he watched the exchange between whore and runner. Z was talking about their work, about him, about more.. And she didn't even need to elaborate. Her presence in this room right now far exceeded the reason to need to explain herself. He had admiration for everything he saw and heard, even down to the little prick against Leila's neck, compliments of the mi'quote's dagger. When the exchange was over, he'd quietly slide back down and crossed both arms behind his head. Jager closed his eyes and waited

 

Atfirst, he really didn't have anything to say. He was stuck in this loop, replaying her every word in his head, revisiting every sharp command and ever blunt insult. He wasn't quite sure what about it caught his eye tonight, but the whole thing was just so damn smooth. Even as beaten and defeated as she physically was, her words were as sharp as steel in order to get things done. He admired that. He enjoyed it.. maybe even on some level, found it attractive.

 

 

“Maybeone day, we'll go half's on one, eh?” Blatant sarcasm dripped off his tone. None the less, he sat up and moved towards the table. “If you go and get killed, I'll most likely be removing myself from Thatcher's presence all together.” Shrug.

[Zhavi]

"I'll be dead, so not like I'll care." Zhi shrugged one shoulder back at him, her grin lopsided. "Half. . .huh. Ye'd have t'find one that'd suit me, first."

 

Funny thing, that.

 

She looked from him to the table. "Ye gonna dice wi' me, 'r am I rollin' it alone?"

[Jager]

“Didn'tfigure you'd be picky. You really are a pain in the ass.” He snickered before rolling on out of bed. “Whas'the matter? Leilia a little too feisty for you? Poor lass looked like she was ready to rip your ears off.” He can't help but laugh for a sec. He finds a seat shortly across form her and crosses his arms once more behind his head. “What are we playing? Hopefully not that damn game the kid was playing on the boat, few weeks back.”

[Zhavi]

Zhi shrugged. "There's some what goes fer that. Yer pick. Since I stole yer lass away from ye, an' all." She would have winked, but the swollen eye made that impossible. She pricked her ears forward instead, and let smugness leak from her smirk.

[Jager]

"Your dice, your game. Pick." The mood in the air was difficult to read. He'd gone from drunkenly staggering up the stairs, ready to spend his evening with a woman, to tearing her away from his partner, to now sitting in for a game of dice. It was everything but neutral.. right? "What're we playin' and how much is on the line." He sighed out the sentence as if it were legal fineprint that had to be read, despite each other's obvious knowledge. He studied her while she set the table, he wasn't quite sure what it was- whatever that was, back there at the door. He knew now it wasn't attraction, at least not in the typical way one would be attracted to the opposite sex. It was clearly admiration, but on some level, perhaps more? He looked at her in a new light tonight, and he wasn't sure what in the hell had caused it; only that it took a few bruised ribs and a chased off whore to be the first spark.

[Zhavi]

Zhi grunted. "Played Hazard? An' hey, ye don't have anythin' t'light up wi'? I'm dyin' fer a smoke." Her stare indicated this state of being was his fault.

[Jager]

He fishes around for a book of matches in his front shirt pocket and throws it her way. Along with the match was a roll of papers, thin but long. "Where's the bag I left? Anything left? And aye, that's fine. No additional rules?"

[Zhavi]

With a sigh of abject misery, Zhi pushed herself up from her seat and hobbled over to the items that had been tossed in her general direction before his temper had previously sent him from the room. It was entirely possible she was overexaggerating her limp, what with the way she carried on with it -- but eventually she made it back to her seat in one piece and handed him the bag. She procured a worn set of dice and slid them his way.

 

"First roll's yers. Aie, I had me own smoke fer when ye got back but. . ." she slowly looked up at him. "Yer carryin' on made me lose it."