savetheearth | [closed action -- backdated to the 22nd]

Who: Casval and Jack.
What: Bad roommates, bad feelings
Where: Casval's apartment.
When: Late morning

[Jack's already been awake for some time when he notices Casval pull up outside the apartment.The movie channel's turned down low, and he's been here long enough to get a feel for the familiar sights and sounds of the neighborhood outside.

Slouching around in a pair of Casval's pants, he picks up the handgun off the coffee table and goes to check at the window, as he has each time before... looking for anyone following the other man's car. Any unusual activity. But there's nothing, and he returns reluctantly to the sofa before Casval walks in the door.

It's been different than the last time he stayed at Casval's; more uncomfortable, for a start. Jack's not sure what happened exactly, but the overall course of events is clear enough to him -- they took out the invaders' latest grunts, both he and Casval had gotten roughed up pretty good in the process... and Casval had been worried enough about Jack's habit of taking off on him that he'd handcuffed him to the bed. If the circumstances had been different, it might have been a little funny. But with the way Casval had been acting lately, the more Jack thought about it, the more it grated on his nerves.

Everything about the situation was wearing on him. Had already worn thin, between dealing with each others' quirks on a daily basis and nothing for him to do except scan network posts, watch movies, and drink.Between the two of them there was an impressive collection of empty bottles building up... and the foul mood Jack was usually in after a few drinks hadn't been helping the situation much either.]

Hey.

[He greets flatly as Casval enters.]

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[ Casval isn't the least bit surprised at what he finds once he enters.

Flat greetings. Flat expressions. Flat feelings and flat ambitions. The good mood he'd been sailing in on fades instantly, when Jack addresses him, and he bristles on instinct, adjusting his collar a bit higher though there's no masking the marks left all over his neck or the scent that clings to him—delicate, and definitively feminine. Jack's going to know, and it's going to take him about two seconds to know and piece together what's happened.

Even so, he brushes callously past him, beginning to pick up the bottles one by one and herd them into the trash. Watching him out of the corner of a narrowed eye, tone sharp in contrast to Jack's languid grunting. ]

Plan on spending all day day sitting on your ass again?

[ Yeah. Definitely off to a promising start, here. ]

[Jack's not drunk right now, otherwise the answer would be less politely worded. As it is, he shrugs, puts the gun back down on the coffee table where he's been keeping it close at hand.]

You wanted me to stay put, I'm staying put. Not really too much to do.

[He says neutrally. Somehow it's not a surprise that Casval's been out indulging his other habits, and Jack's nose wrinkles a little. Like there's something familiar about that particular scent.]

Staying put doesn't mean doing nothing.

[ Casval swipes up the dirty clothes littering the floor, drapes them over an arm and pitching some old wrappers with aggravated precision. Mess, mess, mess, everywhere and everything a mess. Everything around Jack is a mess, everything about Jack is a mess, and Jack is a just plain mess himself. Casval looks at him wasting away and wonders if this is the same man he nearly strangled, the same man who shot him and laughed and hit and hit and hit until Casval was sure he would break. Until he was sure, that would be the day, that would be the hour, that would be the moment it all fell apart for good.

I just wanted you to come home.

And now Jack is home, and Casval couldn't be unhappier. ]

I already told you, they're not watching us. You shouldn't be touching those guns, anyway.

[No, watching Jack this last week only makes Jack's reply that one night even clearer. Jack might have distanced himself from the exact details of the fight, but even with that killer's satisfaction locked away, out of sight and out of mind he still would rather be out there, fighting, doing what he knows how to do. And here, much like when he came back to his real home with wife and son, he's just taken up his other bad habits. Habits not helped by the amount of alcohol Casval has on hand.

And speaking of bad habits... Jack doesn't care so much about Casval's comment when he realizes where he recognizes that smell from.]

Wait. Were you at... Liz's place?

[He asks, a bit incredulous, giving him a look and eyeing the marks on Casval's neck with more than a cursory glance this time.]

[ So much for the cool, calm, and collected approach Casval was shooting for. He literally freezes in place, like a thief caught in the act... or a particularly awful liar. Busying himself with tidying up, he exits quick into the kitchen, hoping that will be enough in throwing him off the trail. Flattening his interest.

But he already knows, like a thief and a liar, when his time is up, and his tense reactions all but give him away. ]

Yes, having tea. [ Well, it's not entirely a fabrication. That part's true, he just neglected to fill in the blanks. The provocative ones involving extensive use of showers and bedspreads. ] What of it?

[Jack follows him into the kitchen; if it was some other random indiscretion he wouldn't have much to say but the cat's out of the bag, and in this particular instance...]

Tea? Are you sure having tea with her is a great idea?

[Yes, Jack's voice has a faint accusatory edge to it, but more than anything he's worried, concerned about what exactly happened.]

[ Dammit, Jack, quit following him. And quit hounding him, while you're at it. You know how he feels about both of those tactics and he's going to scowl at you until you feel guilty enough to back off. Or else try really, really hard and hope effort and extreme willpower alone works.

Even he's obliged to admit it's not working all that well, so time for a convenient (and sharp) change of subject. ]

Do you still not remember anything? About the night I took you back here, beyond shooting up skulls and cackling to the whole bloody network about it?

[It's been obvious despite Jack's best efforts that he doesn't remember the events of that night, doesn't remember turning on Casval.

But he's been playing along and doing his best to pretend that he does, and Casval's sudden statement, showing he knows Jack a little too well causes Jack to snap out his reply, turning the topic of conversation right back around again.]

I remember it just fine. Stop making this about me. She's kinda young, Cap.

[Jack stiffens immediately, silent and frozen through Casval's initial tirade. But as soon as Casval steps forward he steps back, shaking his head.

Why would I shoot you!

[He doesn't actually want to know the answer to that, keeps plowing on ahead. Not as loud and angry as Casval, but still sharp. Nothing about this is right, he wouldn't do that, and desperate for some kind of horrible logic to pull it back together, Jack lashes out, still oblivious.]

I came back here and even after staying put like everybody seems to fucking want, now you're trying to guilt me into staying longer with some kinda made-up bullshit? You might've rescued me, Cap, and I'm glad you did, but I didn't ask for your help then and I sure as hell never asked you to give me anything!

Edited 2013-05-31 03:19 (UTC)

[ And it is, indeed, an initial tirade. The fury ebbs, but is undeniably still present, simmering in Casval's eyes, in his cooling expression which heats right back up again with every deliberate verbal plunge. So that's his move, then? Aiming for all the lowest points, the softest spots? Typical. He should've expected it, and even now Casval gives credit where credit is due: Jack is an ideal hunter, skilled beyond the shadow of a doubt to hunt his prey down with ruthless precision.

Well, let's see how he likes it, then. ]

For the thrill.

[ As carelessly, brazenly as he can manage, to repay him in kind: ]

Because you get off on it.

Shut up!

[It's Jack's turn to yell back at full volume, but he takes another step back instead of forward, shaking his head again. Attacking, that he knows, but on the defensive, Jack's not doing so well. He can feel his heart start pounding harder, a distinctly uncomfortable panic starting to rise to the surface.]

[closed action -- backdated to the 22nd]

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