Jules knows Violet is a (ex_haint987) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-06-26 13:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | hayden mcclaine, meg giry, violet harmon |
Who: Zee, Micah and Jules
What: A very bad, no good lunch
Where: Jules' place
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: Nada
When Jules said something sweet, Micah assumed he meant wine, and he hoped the bottle he had picked out (with help from the woman at the liquor store) would be suitable. It was tucked into a brown paper wine bag, held securely in his hand as he got out of the cab carefully, keeping his balance with help of the cane. Paying the cab driver, he nodded his quiet thanks before turning towards the apartment building and letting out a long sigh. Ever since the disaster on the forums, Micah had kept mostly to himself, encountering his roommate only once in a while, unable to shake the awkward feeling he had around Clare after being so horribly rude to the woman. It would be something he would have to tackle at some point, but for the moment, there was this, there was now, and that was what Micah chose to concentrate on.
It wasn’t long before Micah was knocking on the door that Jules had indicated, stepping back to wait for the door to open, his gaze on the sky above. The sun was high, the air warm and dry, but the long-sleeved cotton button down and loose khakis kept him as cool as he could manage in this sort of weather. He was tired looking, dark smudges beneath his eyes, the whites bloodshot, his skin pale. The weeks had taken their toll on him, it seemed, left him someone quite different than he had been before the hotel.
Lunchtime didn’t necessarily mean much to Zee. His schedule usually allowed him to put off getting out of bed until late morning at least, sometimes early afternoon. So lunch to most was breakfast to him. He didn’t mind hauling himself out of bed when the occasion warranted it though, so “lunchtime” found him sauntering up to the address Jules had left written on his hand. He could have taken a cab, but even with the heat he’d chosen to walk, to give his body (and his brain) a chance to wake up enough to deal with whatever Jules was planning on throwing at him. He couldn’t predict, not with that one.
Zee saw the man climbing carefully out of the cab, and moreso than the cane Zee noticed the clothing. Long pants and a long-sleeved shirt seemed like too much fabric in the Vegas heat, no matter how nice they looked. He certainly wasn’t making that sort of effort, having pulled on a loose pair of cargo pants that had at one point been cut off just below the knee and that now frayed at the hems with loose threads. Instead of one of the tanktops he liked to favor, he’d chosen a baggy t-shirt, something to keep the sun off his shoulders during his walk. And, of course, a hat to attempt to keep his hair back, even with it pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head.
Slipping inside the building didn’t provide much of a relief from the heat, but at least the sun wasn’t beating down on him any longer. Zee continued his progress to the apartment number he’d been given, noticing the man from the cab already standing there and knocking on the door. He stopped a fair distance away, doublechecking the apartment number before sighing and leaning against the wall. The plaster was at least slightly cooler, even though the building had a lingering trace of smoke scent. Shaking his head, he watched the man, studying what he could see in profile and wondering what Jules was up to.
Jules was already yanking open the door as Zee approached and leaned against the wall. He looked this way and that before greeting Micah, noticing Zee way off yonder and waving him closer. Alright, so maybe it was something rude not to let Zee know they were having company for lunch, but Jules was still spooked about near everything in this town, and Micah’s violent admissions hadn’t made him feel like something safe. Still, he wanted to give Micah another chance, seeing as the man had gone on to therapy, but he still didn’t trust being alone with him. Now Zee, Zee he trusted. Sure, they had a night way back when, but he was still an old face, and Jules trusted old faces. So getting them both together seemed wise and, maybe, they’d all get along real well. Having friends never hurt, especially some place as dangerous as this town.
“Zee, quit your hiding,” Jules called out, track pants and no shirt, and then he gave Micah a smile and tugged the wine from his hand. “Micah, this is Zee skulking. Zee, Micah,” Jules added, not explaining why there were more people than intended. “You two come on in. You hang around this hallway for long and someone’s gonna shank you or make you a drug deal,” he added, which was just the plain old truth in the run down apartment building.
Inside, the studio wasn’t a whole lot to look at. A bed against one wall, scarves serving as curtains and looped around standing lamps to let sunlight in the grimy windows. The small kitchen had a folding table set out beside it, and Jules set the wine there and pulled out three chipped glasses for drinking. “It ain’t much to look at,” he said knowingly, calling over his shoulder, “but you gotta admit it smells nice.” Which it did. Butternut squash soup from scratch was bubbling on the stove, and the whole place smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon. “Micah’s been having trouble since that whole mess at the hotel,” Jules finally added, “so I figured meeting folks would help some.” Zee, clearly, was folks in this situation.
Micah didn’t take notice of the other man in the hallway until Jules opened the door and called him out from where he had been hiding. Glancing over to the side, he took the other man in in just a look, giving him a small nod of greeting just as the wine was plucked from his hands. It relieved him of one burden, letting him balance more easily, though he heavily favoured his left leg. “It’s good to meet you, Zee,” Micah offered him before stepping inside the studio, the light coloured by the scarves that worked as curtains. It was strange to be in another’s space with all that had happened, and Micah was quiet, making no movements that could be considered forward or presumptuous, going so far as to keep his space from both Jules and the new acquaintance in Zee.
The place did smell nice, Micah had to agree. Warm, homey, smells that were comforting and impossible to get riled up about. “Smells delicious,” Micah offered quietly, the Irish accent thick on his tongue. His lips pressed together as Jules summarized how things were with him. ‘Having some trouble’ seemed to be putting it as mildly as could be, but he was grateful that no other details were offered, nothing that would label him what he was, what some people believed him to be. “It’s getting better,” Micah said, gesturing to one of the chairs at the table. “Do you mind if I sit, Jules? I don’t mean to be rude by asking.”
Zee rolled his eyes at Jules’ description of “skulking”, but pushed away from the wall as Micah stepped inside, following the other man after a moment. One night many years ago did not a friendship make, nor did it give him a very clear view of what Jules was like, but somehow the design of the apartment made sense. He quirked a smile at Jules as he closed the door behind himself, nodding to himself at the smells coming from the tiny area designated as the kitchen. “You weren’t lying when you said you’d make up something good, were you?” He’d continued to walk as he spoke, and a few long steps brought him up near the small table where he lifted one of the glasses and then set it back down on the table with a gentle click, upside down. The look he angled at Jules was quick, but heavy enough that there was obvious intent to it. He didn’t address it any more though, turning his attention to Micah.
“Seems a lot of people had a shit time with that hotel. It chew you up and spit you back out again?” The like other people I know went unsaid, but it was there in the heady-scented air of the apartment. Zee leaned his hips back against the short spread of countertop, resting his palms flat on it as his fingers curled over the edge. It was casual, but no mistake that he hadn’t quite relaxed enough to actually sit down with a half-remembered tumble from his past and a new stranger. A stranger that carried himself too close and careful, even considering the cane and obvious old injury that required its use.
Jules motioned to the chair, rolling his eyes at Micah when he asked if he could sit. “You just go on and sit yourself down, both of you, ain’t no point in asking. Southern hospitality says guests can do as they please,” Jules explained, reaching for a wifebeater that was hanging overtop a lamp and slipping it over his head. “And course I wasn’t lying,” was Jules’ reply to Zee about the cooking. “I’m a chef these days - or near enough,” he added, because his name wasn’t on any menus, and he wasn’t fool enough to think it ever would be, cooking school or no cooking school. He took himself a drink of the wine, pouring it out and swirling it around the chipped glass beforehand. As for the hotel and Zee’s question of Micah, Jules just turned his back on it, feigning disinterest as he stirred the soup and tasted it to see if it was seasoned enough. Maybe Zee would be a better person for Micah to talk to about all that, and Jules would be lying if he didn’t admit that was some of the purpose in this. He had too many issues with violence these days to go helping Micah much. Before Hannah and the desert, that might could have been different, but that was still there, in his mind, pounding up a fierce racket.
As the pair spoke, Micah pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, a look of relief crossing his somber features as he did so, the cane hooked on the back of the chair where he wouldn’t misplace it in the unfamiliar surroundings. He had a retort to Jules’ claim of Southern hospitality, something along the lines of he wasn’t about to assume anything anywhere, but he kept that to himself, instead reaching over to pour himself a glass of wine after Jules. “And a ‘shit time’ is putting it mildly,” Micah said as he looked down into the glass of moscato, giving the glass a little push, sending the wine sloshing around in its glass cage. He didn’t look ready to elaborate any more than that, but a partial explanation was given as he tugged up the cuff of his khakis, twisting just so to give a glance at the mauled flesh of his left calf. “Chewed up is right on, though this was before the hotel, so I can’t blame it on that, sadly.” His smile was wan, lasting only a moment before he smoothed his pants back down and leaned in towards the table, both hands curling around the stem of the wine glass. The surroundings didn’t matter, nor did the chipped glasses or the strange crew they made. Micah didn’t need fancy, didn’t particularly enjoy fancy. Something quiet and easy was more along his lines these days, and these two seemed ready to offer just that. “How’d you get along?” he asked, glancing towards Zee to show that he was asking the question of the other man.
“Well you got yourself one hell of a dealt hand then,” Zee replied to the glimpse of Micah’s leg on top of whatever had happened at the hotel. He didn’t take the invitation to sit though, not yet, staying close even as Jules moved around the small kitchen. If he wasn’t supposed to be there, then someone would have to tell him, because he was comfortable enough leaning against the counter. He switched his attention to watch Jules check the soup, gaze still on him as he answered Micah’s question. “Oh, I got along just fine. Think the best of anyone I’ve come across so far at least.” He paused and finally looked back at Micah, a smile finally lodging itself in the corner of his mouth. “Wasn’t exactly me, either. But close enough, yeah?”
Jules set out three bowls of soup, and then he set a basket of warm, crusty French bread in the center of the card table. “You sit yourself down,” he told Zee, doing the same himself and grabbing one of the spoons that was piled in the center of the flat surface. “And since you two insist on going on and being pretty about it, I’ll break the ice,” he said. He wasn’t happy about what had happened at the hotel, but he’d be damned if he was gonna go on talking all around it for an entire meal. “I did some cutting on someone who let me. Nothing deep, no scars or nothing, but then I ended up with someone who sliced the damn hell outta me. Turns out it was someone I knew, and I got lucky with my door. It makes things that are wrong go away soon as I cross over.” He took a sip of his soup, and then he chased it with some wine. “Near as I can tell, it was still me doing what I done, but that don’t make me feel a whole lot better about it. I been trying to figure out why in tarnation I would do something like that, not run when things went all dangerous, and I can’t keep from thinking on the boy I was with there.” He shrugged.
Micah pulled his chair up to the table, giving a nod of thanks as the bowls were set out and the bread in the center. Reaching out, he snagged a spoon and a chunk of the bread, glancing over towards Zee with a faint smile. “Glad you didn’t have a bad time. It’s good to know that place wasn’t horrible to everyone.” His spoon dipped into the soup for a sip, and then he paused, listening as Jules detailed what had happened to him at the hotel, his spoon sat down as he instead tore into the bread, chewing on a chunk thoughtfully. “I didn’t run into anyone that I know,” Micah said softly, and that was all he could say on the topic as he drowned his thoughts away by finishing off the rest of his wine.
Zee finally took his own seat, folding his long limbs down to relax in the seat across from Micah, watching for a moment before claiming his own food. The conversation about the hotel moved around him, and by first watching Jules as he spoke, and then Micah’s withdrawn comment, the familiar deep pull of a drink for comfort, he had a fairly good idea that they were both talking around something that he wasn’t aware of. He wasn’t going to be able to enjoy his food, not with the tension that was steadily filling the small apartment, and a few bites of it proved that to be a shame. He might have to force Jules to cook for him some other time, when things weren’t quite so mixed up among the meal’s company. He sent out his own silent wish for a drink, but no, he’d turned it down. Instead, he set down his spoon, leaning back in his chair and looking first at Micah and then over to Jules. “Well it’s obvious I’m out of the loop on shit here, with the only little bit in Vegas that enjoyed the hotel that night. And it’s just as obvious he don’t want to talk about it, pretty. I’m not going to be the one to beat it out of him. ...Sorry to ruin your lunch plans if that was them.”
Jules sighed, and he remembered what his momma had always said about machinating not being his strong suit. She was right, but then his momma near always was about everything, and he rubbed his face tiredly. Las Vegas was starting to get to him something fierce. He’d been hoping Micah could find someone to talk to, someone he liked, but that wasn’t going so well, and it was just like the Zee he was learning to remember to bring it up so plain. “Ain’t no one beating anyone,” he said after a second, dipping his spoon in his soup. Like Zee, he felt real sure this lunch had gone uncomfortable, and since neither of them had talked about near anything, he gave up on talking about his own hotel experience too. He shouldn’t go talking about it anyway, since it would only lead to chatter than he shouldn’t get into. He reminded himself that anyone could be the killer, that talking was too dangerous. He filled his wine glass once more, and he motioned to the other men’s soup bowls. “It’s getting cold,” he said of the soup, shutting his mouth tight after that for everything but wine and the spoon.
One hand rested on the edge of the table as Micah looked down into the depths of the soup, the taste still lingering, still warming him through and through but doing little to fill that empty pit deep down within him. “I just,” Micah started, tripping over the words. “I hurt someone badly that night, and I apologise if I’m quiet at the moment but I surely appreciate the company right now. There’s a lot going through my mind, and I’m trying to come to terms with what I did and what I’m capable of.” He paused, glancing over towards Zee, giving him a long look. “If you’ve been on the journals, I’m sure you can put two and two together, and that’s as much as I’m comfortable saying right now.” He let out a long sigh, pushing his chair back though he made no move to stand, instead rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, shaking his head just a bit. “The soup’s fucking delicious, Jules. Don’t feel like I deserve it, though. Don’t feel like I deserve any bit of kindness anymore.”
Laid back Zee might have been, tended to be even when others were overreacting to things. But even he had his lines. Micah’s admission to the troubles in the journals made him let out his own sigh and rub at the side of his face. Jules was right, there wasn’t going to be any beating during the lunch, but that didn’t mean that Zee could continue to sit like there hadn’t just been an elephant dropped into the room. One that liked to hurt other people, apparently. He leaned forward, one elbow on one knee, and looked right at Micah. “Listen. You seem like a good guy on the outside, one that probably got handed a real raw deal. And I know that hotel fucked with people that night, because no way my little bit would’ve done those sorts of things otherwise either. But I told you to let my girlie be on the journals afterwards, and you kept poking at it like a kid with a stick goes poking at half-dead roadkill. Now, I wanna like you. I do. And I might be able to later. But this just got dropped on me and I’m not a big fan of getting clocked with shit like that without a warning. So I’m gonna take my leave, figure out how I feel about this, and then go from there, yeah?” He pushed his chair back, gathering too-lanky limbs as he stood. “You know where to find me, pretty,” he murmured as he passed behind Jules’ chair, and headed for the door.
Jules hadn't been counting on that, and he was starting to realize that the quest to find someone Micah could talk to was gonna be a whole lot harder than he reckoned. He let his spoon clatter onto the table, and he watched Zee go before turning his attention back to Micah. He didn't figure it would go making Micah feel any better, the I told you so that was brimming on his lips. Instead, he pushed his chair back and set to cleaning up Zee's place as the door closed in the distance. "It'll take time, Micah," he finally said, wiping his hands on a dishrag as he leaned back against the sink. "I was thinking talking to someone not me would help. Guess that wasn't a great choice of folks, but heck if I knew there was a connection." And maybe it didn't matter if there was or wasn't. Maybe everyone would react the same damn way. All he knew was that he was left standing there, and he was so gunshy about being around anything violent these days that he practically squirmed with it "Go on," he said, motioning to the door, and not meeting Micah's eyes while he said it. "I got my own demons, honey, and you don't want me getting spooked while you're sitting there." And that was as close as Jules came to admitting his own fear and the violence he was always scared would spill over if something came too close that he felt real terror over. Controlling Violet was normally easy as pie - when it came to everything but being scared of that man in the desert, the one who wore everyone's face.