fifth_garde | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

[He'd drove all night, habitually remembering to drink from the cold flask of cheap coffee he'd picked up from a diner and even more habitually to chew on aspirin. He had to keep the pain in his arm at bay, occasionally it would spasm causing him to jerk the wheel to one side. His eyes were aching, and either that was because of the exhaustion or the emotions which were rattling around in his head, both of which weren't things he was able to take care of right then.

He'd eventually caved in and put on the radio, listening to some random popular music station so he wasn't left with just his own thoughts. He didn't exactly enjoy the music but it was better than utter silence, every now and again he'd press a wad of napkins against his temple, which had crusted over but wasn't entirely finished bleeding yet.

Finally reaching the town he'd left Owen in earlier that day, or actually the day before considering it was now five in the morning, he could've simply ran but he'd either end up running into a wall or phasing half way through one and winding up dead.

He parked the car in the same car park he'd left the BMW and transfers the chest from one trunk to the other, after all he'd rather ditch Al's car for the stolen motor, regardless of the convenience of having a car with actual insurance papers.

Finally he drags himself into the corridors of the hotel, it seeming deadly quiet for the fact it was so early, he vaguely remembers Owen's room number having only seen it once before and slumps against the doorframe, tapping lightly on it and hoping Owen would hear.]

Owen? 's me... I mean, Five, y'there?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Owen suspects as much, but he doesn't think he'd like to find out he's wrong the hard way.]

Don't give me that look.

Look? What look. I'd never give you any look!

[Oh yeah, Jason, engage in your masculine wiles and reduce your Human to putty in your hands, write a book about it even!]

[Owen would object to the publication of such a book. (Although he would probably read it with great amusement and affection.)]

You're so full of it.

'm hurt, really.

[He makes of a mock gesture of clutching his pearls and flopping back on the bed.]

That is not an expression of hurt. That is an expression of 'I am very amused by how amazingly funny you are, but I'm going to attempt to distract you from this by reclining on the bed and looking sexy.'

Oh you think I look sexy like this? I should recline on things more often.

[Oh yes, Owen, Jason knows how to pander to people's interests.]

I think you look sexy most of the time.

With the exception of when you're fishing for compliments. That's very unattractive, even on you.

Just when I got t'thinkin' I always look attractive without fail.

[Sigh.] 'm gonna have t'work on that one.

I can help, if you want.

I happen to be very good at looking attractive while fishing for compliments. ...Well, at looking sincere when sucking up, anyway, which is largely the same thing.

Oh really? So I jus' can't trust that pretty little face 'cause it hides the art of true deception.

'm glad we got that sorted out so early on.

Excuse you, no part of me is little.

And I hate lying. I'm much better at... half-truths. [So it's better to always listen for what he's not saying, and make sure to pin him down on the things he does.]

...I am good at it, though. When I have to be. I just... I hate lying to anyone I actually have any respect for, it feels... I don't know, wrong somehow.

Half-truths still aren't the truth. Besides 'm a fantastic liar so I can't be a judge of it.

[He nods.] Anyway 'm sure y'wouldn't want t'lie t'me, it'd just build the wrong kinds of foundations 'n we all know that's a bad way t'start things off. [Smirk.]

Half-truths are absolutely the truth. It's the only way to get along in life sometimes. I can't... There are a lot of things I can't tell my friends in school, for example. Sometimes it's necessary to just... Omit things.

...Well. Yes. It would. Besides, there's no point in lying to you. You know all the things I usually have to lie about anyway, or the-- The reasons for them, anyway.

Y'know.. y'don't have t'justify yourself to me? I don't even use my birth name on a daily basis. Everyone needs their secret places.

I-- I wasn't. ...Intentionally. I don't know, I suppose I'm not used to anyone knowing so much, and I'm trying to find a way to... Er. Deal with it.

[He drops down onto the bed beside Jason, case abandoned for a moment.]

...Do you know what it is? Was?

None of us do, I mean... I'd say it's Five, but they didn' know we were goin' t'be the last nine Garde t'begin with.. so it couldn' have been.

[He frowns.]

...Well, I won't say it doesn't matter.... But I do think that whatever name you choose for yourself means just as much. And that you shouldn't think of yourself as your role or your number. You're more than that; everyone should be. And you are.

[He leans over and places a light, chaste kiss to Owen's lips before rolling away and standing up off the bed.]

'n that's why you're probably more understandin' than the remainder of the Lorien race.

[Owen smiles little sadly at that, following suit.]

I think I'm just lucky enough to get to see you in a very different light.

[He examines his case for a moment, gnawing on his bottom lip and runs a hand through his hair before finally zipping it up and adding his laptop to the outside pocket.]

...I think this will do. Do you want to head out? We can kill some time in the hotel bar if you like.

[He picks his own bag up and slings it over his shoulder before suddenly looking shocked and sighing.]

God 'm stupid, be right back. [He blurs out of existence and appears a moment later with a large black suitcase. After all, he'd need to put the chest somewhere...]

'n pre-flight Martinis sounds like a fun time t'me!

You're not-- [He only has to pause for a moment before finishing his sentence.] ...Stupid. Christ, that's going to take some getting used to.

...Don't tell me: you've got a Bond fetish, too.

[He grins.] Just one of those things, 'm sure y'can get pretty habitual with magic?

'n no.. I just like vodka, not everythin' has t'be a fetish.

...You can. But it can be dangerous, to get too... Reliant on it. It can be addictive, in its own way.

You're disappointing me again. [Jason gets a teasing smirk and a kiss to the cheek before Owen pulls up the handle of his case and wheels it to the door, holding it open for him.]

Wait it's addictive? Like a drug...? [Colour Jason surprised.]

Oh really? I'd hate t'be a disappointment. In future I'll think of wild elaborate things before admittin' the normal reason behind 'em.

Well, it depends on the person and the intention and your... Awareness, I think, but it can be.

[He smirks.] You do that.