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[outerfringe]

open post for jeff

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[outerfringe]

[He'd had no idea when stepping into that fight what the outcome would be; it hadn't occurred to him that he was risking his life and not just a black eye. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, of course, even knowing the outcome.

Still. If the hook holes and axe wounds could be knitted up without complaint, why not wipe away that ghost of back ache?

He holds his hand out for the bottle.]

Consider me warned.

[hardlydead]

[ he hands over the bottle and reclines a little against the log like he's determined to make it a comfortable backrest. it mostly just ends up with him looking almost comical in how he's almost laying on it, upper back propped up like one might to watch tv in bed. david can't find it in himself to care about looking stupid though. ]

You alright on the floor with your back?

[ never noticed it during trials, but then that's a different situation isn't it. wouldn't be surprised if the entity numbed that pain for jeff while they were in there so he only had fresh, new pains to focus on. ]

[outerfringe]

[Jeff is the last person to care about someone looking stupid, especially if it's in the pursuit of something that might actually bring about a facsimile of comfort. He takes a pull from the bottle with a wince, passing it back with a flicker of embarrassment at the question.]

Yeah. Mostly just stiff. It'll relax in a minute.

[But it's a kindness he appreciates.]

[hardlydead]

[ he takes the bottle back, a wince of his own flashing across his face at the taste when it hits his tongue and the way it burns his throat. there's something about it that feels good though-- maybe it's just as simple as the fact that it's booze. ]

Think I was lucky I don't have anything like that-- Met a lot of blokes who got injuries that never healed right on the pitch, but... Not me.

[ david takes another sip, another grimace at the taste like it's somehow a surprise, and offers the bottle back to jeff. ]

[outerfringe]

[Jeff murmurs a quiet thanks as the bottle is passed back, remembering pointlessly the chocolate malt he'd ordered right before he'd left for his father's funeral. He wonders if his neighbor picked the package up like he'd asked; he wonders what he ended up doing with it if so.]

Always seemed dangerous. [At least, what he knows about rugby and sports in general, though it was never really his scene. He shifts, seems to find a more comfortable way to sit, and considers for a moment. He's always been better at listening than talking, but—]

I broke up a fight and got in a little over my head. [Vaguely, he indicates the scar on his face.] Got thrashed the once and I was out. Can't imagine putting myself through that shit for fun. [OK fine it's more complicated than that, but whatever.]

[hardlydead]

I'nt that what you lot do?

[ granted, he doesn't know much about metal — or any kind of rock scene to be honest — but he's heard of mosh pits! it's hard to imagine jeff in one of them, but he's seen the man in that white... face paint getup, and that was a hell of a shock the first couple times. ]

You all just kinda... [ he kind of mimes a bouncy motion, mostly in his shoulders, while he looks for the way to describe it. ] Jump around and beat the shit out of eachother?

[outerfringe]

[Fuck he misses moshing. He takes a long drink and groans at the taste, before resting the bottle on the dirt between them.]

That's dancing, dude. [Sure, folks end up with bruises and the occasional black eye, but...] Like comparing a tickle fight to a UFC match.

[hardlydead]

Oh.

[ doesn't sound like any kind of dancing he knows, but who gives a shit really. sounded better than the dancing david did, which was mostly just parading around some hot chick like an accessory for everyone to envy. ]

[ christ that's depressing. almost makes him reach for the bottle to guzzle down a few mouthfuls, but he stops himself. he's trying to be decent company for once in his adult life. ]

So that's... Fun?

[ good job, excellent ]

[outerfringe]

[The question gives him pause, and then he laughs despite himself. He casts a sidelong glance David's way, like he's unsure how to answer the question.]

Yeah. Concerts. Lots of energy, you know? Easy to get swept up in. Good music helps, too.

[And he, too, is trying his damndest to be good company. A good conversationalist.]

You don't listen to much music?

[hardlydead]

I did, I guess.

[ he tilts his head just a little, thinking. remembering what he'd listen to at the gym, the odd concert. raves and club nights. that's not stuff he ever once even thought he'd miss, but here he is. ]

Not like you, I guess, but if you wanted some drunk fuck belting Champagne Supernova at 3AM then I'm your guy.

[outerfringe]

[The way Jeff laughs is more a surprised rumble and tremble of the shoulders than anything else, and he picks up the bottle he's just put down to take another bracing drink.]

Point is - it's supposed to be rowdy, but this guy was out to kill. Managed to save the eye, then I almost lost vision in it. Changes your outlook, you know.

[It's honestly the most he's told anyone about it at once - not because of embarrassment at his past, but just because sharing anything always feels like oversharing. There's a comfort in sharing a bottle by the fire that makes it easier.]

[hardlydead]

Shit.

[ david leaves it at that for a couple moments, looking at jeff. never once occurred to him to even ask about the scar even though, looking at him now, that kinda thing doesn't just happen, he's been bruised and cut up and bleeding way too many times even before the fog not to know it. ]

Good on you for stepping in though, y'know? Most wouldn't.

[outerfringe]

[He shrugs, dismissive only because he's never sure what to do with a compliment, and holds the bottle out as a question.]

More people than you think.

[He hates these trials, but some folks have died for him, and will again.]

Sorry. Got heavy, huh. What were we talking about - beer.

[hardlydead]

[ probably for the best that jeff uncomfortably shifts the topic. david opens his mouth to explain why he's sure he's pretty spot-on in his estimation — he's grabbed people out of crowded places, beat the shit out of them in broad daylight, he could count the number of times anybody ever did even the bare minimum to stop him on his hands — but the moment to think that the topic change gives him makes him realise he doesn't want to talk about that. talking about the rugby or the fights was whatever, but the debt collection shit... jeff's a good man, david doesn't wanna tell him about all that. ]

[ he takes the bottle and drinks, waving a dismissive hand ] Don't worry about it. Only so much conversation you can get out of beer anyway.

[outerfringe]

Metal, then. Told Quentin I'd send him some vinyls if we make it out of here. I'll hook you up, too.

[Jeff is under no illusions about their likelihood of escape. It's a platitude for himself, a self-soothing balm, because he refuses to just give up entirely. He'll keep looking for that glimmer light through the fog as long as he's able to.

(Not that he's immune to despair. Not that things don't feel just a little more crushingly futile every single time he watches someone skewered by a hook. Dangerous, stupid thoughts-)

He shakes his head.]

You'd like moshing.

[hardlydead]

[ david breathes a soft laugh through his nose, another one that doesn't reach his eyes, and he shakes his head. ]

Nah, I'm not...

[ he swallows, takes another drink, and puts the bottle down between them. ]

Self-control isn't exactly my strong suit.

[ he's not like jeff, he's like the dickhead who almost blinded him. ]

[outerfringe]

[Jeff glances sideways at him for a moment, then down at the bottle David had offered to share with him.]

Dunno, man. Maybe you weren't before.

[But none of them are the people they used to be. He rolls his shoulder in a shrug, then starts to peel off his own jacket - it's warm enough by the fire already.]

But you'd know better than me.

[hardlydead]

I was a fighter for a reason, mate. I--

[ hm. no. he stares at the fire and shakes his head again. ]

Vinyls though. I'd like that.

[outerfringe]

You'd go back to it? We wake up at home tomorrow.

[Jeff folds his jacket in his lap just to have something to do with his hands. There's no judgment in his question, just sincere curiosity.]

[hardlydead]

Probably, yeah.

[ he's got years of pent-up violence and anger in him at this point. ]

Win every fight too, way this fuckin' place has pissed me off.

[outerfringe]

[Jeff exhales a breathless little laugh, and he has to admit now that the drink is getting to his head a little. He can't remember the last time he was drunk. It's a nice feeling to sink into.]

I'm telling you, man. Watercolors.

[hardlydead]

[ david laughs, a genuine one this time, still smiling when he looks aside at jeff. ]

Tell you what. You find some watercolours and I'll paint as many happy little trees or whatever as you want.

[outerfringe]

Don't tell me that. I'll start grinding up flowers. Let you design my next tattoo.

[Not that Jeff has any idea how to actually make paints of his own, but whatever, it's a fun threat to make - and privately, he's pleased that the smile seems more sincere than the ones before.]

[hardlydead]

Yeah? How much space've you got on your back?

[ he can picture it now, the ugliest landscape in this dimension or any other, just for jeff. ]

[outerfringe]

[He laughs out loud at the response, a surprised bark of sound.]

Plenty. But we'll all have to match, yeah? Solidarity in survival.