Tin Foil Hats

[Zhavi]

Another time, another day, Zhavi would have fired something back at his complaint regarding her name. Right then? She didn't quite dare. Not about something so trivial.

 

She followed him, for once, stepping up alongside him like it was her place. Like he hadn't just shot at her. Not like she hadn't done crazier things; flipping on someone, for example, required you to be just peachy with the idea of working for someone who may have been trying to kill you. Today? He was fracturing, and that put her ill at ease.

 

"Aye," she said, swallowing her comments about his comments. Her knees felt watery. Her head was near empty but for the rushing flow of blood.

 

What a rush.

 

She stepped past him, taking the lead. Most days she liked being in the lead, but there was a spot between her shoulders that crawled. She was taken with the notion of him shooting her in that spot, just aim and bam, no more Zhi. How much would that hurt?

 

She didn't look back on purpose.

 

He could climb, she'd seen him climb, so the first good handhold she saw she took, hoisting herself up hand over hand, foot over foot. They hit the top, and she started running. She kept them low, as out of sight from the street as she could muster. Once they were a pier across onto another spire, she lead him into an old stone building -- one used for storage. One not kept very well secured. It was damp, musty, stank of mildew and rat droppings. It was quiet, cool, and totally empty.

 

"Workers come in once a day, late night." It was one of Skarp's dropoffs, one that Zhi delivered to fairly frequently. She knew their schedules backwards and forwards; they'd come in on the guard's blindspot.

[Jager]

Jager could see the whole attitude of this encounter had changed. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't content with it, either. Shady business was all fun and games, until someone started getting stabbed in the back. A young lad had died over this, and not one, but two business partners nearly lost their heads for it; metaphorically and quite literally. He'd not say much as he followed. Her silence was welcoming, if only to show that she understood how close to fractured he really was. When the time came to climb, he'd keep right on her tail and fled across the roof tops with little effort. He'd glance about while she showed him inside the storage depot, cautious at first. He wouldn't put it past her to lead him to an ambush for pulling what he had. 

 

"This is perfect."

[Zhavi]

Know when to fold.

 

Zhi was folding. He'd outplayed her. She'd put her cards down, and now he was collecting. She'd get her own back. Maybe it would be a few days from now, maybe a few weeks -- hells, maybe longer, but it wouldn't be today. He had better weapons, better muscles, better. . .

 

he didn't have better night vision.

 

Something to keep in mind.

 

It was dark inside the storage. No windows, all exits shut. She didn't light a lamp, wouldn't unless he asked. Folded? Yes. But that didn't mean she couldn't stack her advantages for the next game.

 

She took a seat on a half-barrel, feet skimming over the ground, and rested her elbows on her thighs. Her hands were clasped, fingers digging in until she forced them to relax.

 

"Yer lead. I'll follow. What's th'plan?"

[Jager]

"Plan's already set in motion, we just wait. My employer runs plenty o' transport ships 'cross this ocean. Surprised the pig didn't figure it out, the day we brought him on. Regardless, it'll be in port by the end o' this week." He'd pat his chest down for the last of a few hand rolled cigarettes. 

 

He was content with sitting in the dark. He didn't have to look at her; didn't have to read her eyes. The tone between the two was stiff, it was hard to gauge her right now. Naturally, when the smart-assed and cocky went rigid and silent, meant they were bound to blow. He almost had. 

 

"Yer all fer equal trades, yeah? Thinkin' is'bout time I lent you a man or two, ifn' you're workin' to get D t'help with my little rat." He'd shrug. It was wasted in the dark.

[Zhavi]

"I will," Zhi said. She weighed her options. She was watching him, even with her head hanging low. She was watching his expression. "I'll take yer men, if ye've some t'spare." Would saying no piss him off?

 

She wanted to kick him, hit him, tumble him to the ground and stand over him with her usual sneer.

 

Her nails were digging in to the backs of her hands.

 

"Ye need help trailin' them what need shuttin' up?" Casually offered. And then, because it was so typical. . ."need a light?"

 

She didn't want to know what he'd done with the last one she'd offered him.

[Jager]

He'd shift once more to his right side and pace back. He thought deeply about what he was about to do. For now, he just continues to speak quietly. “Owe ya-” to the light, “I need that informant o' mine tailed. Him, and one other; Jackal.” He'd hold the flint and steel to the tip of the paper roll before showering it with sparks. In that brief moment of light, she could see that dangerous yellow stare locked on her. It was dark, predator almost; the look of a man pushed far beyond fracture. This cigarette was the seal to his ire, and like time, it dust this little moment in their history over.

 

 

“Here.” He'd hand it back to her before spinning so that his back was to her. From there he simply pressed himself up against the barrel and slid down until he was looking upwards at her, from an upside down perspective. “Yeh caught me tailin yer ass. I think we can be all for equal trades; name yer price.” Because he knew she was scheming; these two would be J and Z without it otherwise. Why he chose to sit right where he did was strictly for his own amusement. That, and he couldn't see anything else. 

[Zhavi]

"Done." She held his stare until he turned. The metal of the steel felt warm in her hand -- reminder of his body heat. She pocketed it. No smoking for her, tonight. She really should quit.

 

There were any number of things she could use his help on, but considering the delicate balance set between them, there was more to it than simple need. Put him on the wrong task, and he'd have an easy time screwing her.

 

It would be so easy to put her foot in his face.

 

"Got goods comin' in. Need ye t'play backup. We'll be movin' 'em somewhere not everyone wants 'em t'go. Get in. Place 'em. Get out. No contact."

 

She really wanted a smoke. Alcohol. Something. She needed him to take the offer; it meant she'd be able to keep her eye on him. . .because right now, she didn't trust him out of her sight.

[Jager]

If she wanted to put her boot against his face, he'd have to remind her just where- and whose -face his boot had just been on. Still, there was a reason he planted himself up against that barrel, and it was to incite that feeling perfectly. Reaction was an entirely different key, however. With a casual shrug, he'd cross his arms before looking up to blow his smoke her way; not on purpose, ironically. 

"Fine." 

 

That was all. Fine.

[Zhavi]

Zhavi hated silence. She couldn't stand it. Always had to fill it up with something -- humor, mockery, sarcasm. . .rage. Didn't matter, so long as something was making noise, even if it was her laying down a thick patter. The room was silent. Silent but for their breaths, for the ever-so-slight crisp of his burning cigarette. She suspected he wanted to wait her out, to fry her until she couldn't help but squirm. He wanted to flay her open and watch her to see what happened.

 

She hated it. She knew he knew she hated it. So she stayed silent for a long while. She held it in, felt it curdle in her gut, her head, until it came up her throat and into her mouth. It tasted like bile. Every time she swallowed without speaking, it was like blood down her throat: thick, slimy, salty. Then there was the sweat. It dribbled out from her armpits, beaded on her forehead, prickled all over her skin.

 

She hated him so godsdamned much, Nald'thal shred his side of the scales.

 

Even when she knew she was losing, she held out. Even when she knew she was going to open up her blimming tongue and gabble, she held it. Every second won was a victory. Every. Last. One.

 

"How long ye been tailin' me?" Slow as molasses dribbled over sugarcakes, those words. Sour as lemons. She bit her lip and hung her head even lower.

 

She hated herself.

[Jager]

Jager was a rock. It was as if he lacked emotion, instinct, rage.. guilt, fear? Torment. Sanity. Help. He'd sit there, for ten minutes,or ten hours; give him the substance to survive, he'd do it for ten weeks. This was a man that had been forced to confinement on solitary levels, he'd long ago chipped off a piece of his own sanity in return for keeping the rest. This was a man who could sink a ship with all those in it, if only to make a sick joke out of a woman claiming to throw the weight of her sickly body around him. This was the man to slice open the spine of a yellow jack without hesitation or remorse; this was a man who had just got done stomping the brain matter of a kid out in pure aggitation for a job poorly done. And Zhavi had the audacity to stick herself in a dark room alone with him? From a distance, he'd have had a strange attraction to something as ludicrous as her, that was, if she weren't such a royal pain in his ass.

 

“Since I left you last at the inn.”

 

Words tore from his lips like the hard edge of a piece of construction paper. Crisp, thin; cut. Rourk had a sick way of getting into one's head; punishment was always done on a psychological level, often times using physical elements or not. It didn't matter; if heaven and hell were real, this man was the Devil. For six weeks, he had been thrown into a dingy and left afloat the vast ocean. Six weeks in the sun could fry a few circuits beyond repair. The wires were always simple to hide behind new casing. Zhavi was out of her league if she thought she could go toe to toe with this man here. A fight, this city, her savvy street guile.. sure; here. No.

[Zhavi]

It showed. Zhi'd her own demons, but she'd never faced them alone. Never contemplated them. Never ever tried to look them in the face.

 

"Then ye know 'bout Melkire."

 

She didn't even need to say it. She should have changed the focus, should have searched for something that would make him squirm. Should have tested, probed, anything. But if she did -- he might stop talking. He might sit there, quiet, for once shielded against any action she might take. He might leave her alone with her thoughts.

 

Zhavi never wanted to be alone.

 

Ever.

[Jager]

Solitude was his enemy; could they honestly share something, for once? Like a piece of radiation inside a lead box, he could keep his demon contained for longer, but not indefinite. These two were a lot alike in some ways, compete opposites in others. "The name rings a bell.. Refresh?" He'd take one long drag before holding it up to her pinched between his fingers. Habit. If he wanted, he could burn her crotch right about now. His piss was on fire, why shouldn't hers be? Probably already was.

[Zhavi]

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

 

"Th' one. . .I argued wi'. . .in th'tavern. After ye left."

 

She wasn't going to take that smoke, even if it killed her. She wasn't giving up without a fight.

[Jager]

He twisted around to look her dead in the eye, even if he couldn't see it. Her face was somewhere in that general area- he could see her outline just fine. His face read, are you ruttin' serious? "You argue with a lot.." Grin. "I remember though." He nestled that smoke right between his lips and took in one long drag. It released like a chimney. "What about him?" It was a him, right?

[Zhavi]

Silence.

 

Zhavi didn't know what to say.

 

"N-nothin'."

 

She wasn't looking at his face.

 

"How long d'ye plan t'stay here?"

 

She was looking at the exit.

[Jager]

Jager's expression was lost in the dark, it was a simple arch of the eyebrows- the look on his face curious. What was this? "Nothing?" He'd tsk in the dark; that was heard whether she cared to or not. "I'll leave when I need to. What's the matter? Can only open up when there are stairs around?" Whether she stayed or left, he'd remain just as cocky and dark as the night would let him.

[Zhavi]

And now he thought himself funny, did he? "'Cause yer so --" Her ire was cut off as she remembered the gun, the bullet, the boy, his boot. She raked a hand through her hair, pulling her legs up so she could better control the urge to kick him.

 

Her hair was all in her face. Her lips were empty without a bottle, a smoke, something to keep them occupied.

 

"Yer not as fun when ye ain't been drinkin'. Scales, sometimes ye ain't even fun then."

[Jager]

"I ain't meant t'be fun." He'd snort, clear his throat and hack a ball of phlegm across the room. He too, should really quit smoking; but he'd have to buy a bunch more boots and a ton more ammo if he quit. Fact. "You act as if you're a real chipper bunch'o fun yerself." He feels for his chest, fingers brush his gun. Oh. It wasn't a flask. "But if'n that's the case, then I guess I'm heading out now." And with that, he'd press his back against the barrel so he could stand back up. Too bad he nearly toppled the thing over as he did so. "Think I need to drown myself in a keg. Before I quit bein' fun."

[Zhavi]

Zhi tumbled off the barrel, landed on her feet. She moved past him. "A'right. Ye have need of me, ye come an' find me."

 

Because she had no intention of staying in his presence any longer than she needed to. Not while he was in that mood.

[Jager]

"I'll be on the ship for a while. The men have seen ye before, they'll let you aboard." And with that, he'd follow her out which ever exit she took, and simply split in the opposite direction. Neither wanted to be around the other. There wasn't much else to do but split.