meet me at the copy shop Who: Jareth Monaco & Ari Chiaro What: A morning run in Where: An unnamed coffee shop in the Theatre District When: This morning Rating: PG (warning for thoughts about drug use) Status: Complete!
All Jareth wanted to do was sleep. There wasn’t a whole lot that seemed better than passing out unconscious on his bed until he had to get back up and do it all over again. Not even the drugs were helping with the weariness these days; probably a sign that they weren’t needed, but he just took it that he needed up his usage. They were keeping him calm - so what if they weren’t keeping him hyped? He was working long fucking days, his partner was missing (dead), and he was pretty damned sure that Thornton was going to make him partner up with Finch any fucking day now.
And the day that happened was the day Jareth moved on to the harder drugs.
He was almost out of his stash at home, but heading to the Tenements to restock seemed to be too much of a fucking hassle. He’d used up the last of it the night before and had spent the entire evening sitting on the floor by his bed, staring blankly at the wall. His mind had been pleasantly blank for the first time in weeks, and he might have overdone it.
His dealer’s apartment was a few blocks away; if he got off early enough, he could hit him up. Buy a new stash. Maybe take a hit or five before needing to report the next morning. Rinse, repeat.
But then he’d be high around Min, and that was a big fucking no. He wanted to be a good role model for the kid, whatever the fuck that meant. He was pretty sure that didn’t include encouraging the kid to start smoking. Besides, he was pretty sure Peony - and fuck if that wasn’t awkward as fuck - would flay him alive if he introduced the kid to the world of hard drugs.
He was passing a coffee shop when he spotted a familiar cloak. Didn’t seem like she saw him, so he could keep going, but that’d be rude. And he tried to not be a complete dick. Most of the time. He sighed and crossed the street. He’d walk by; if she said anything, he’d stop. If she didn’t, he’d tried. In the most fucking roundabout way ever, but it was still a fucking try.
Unfortunately for Jareth, he wasn’t about to get off so easily. Ari had just emerged from the coffee shop upon his passage, hands wrapped around a large paper cup (really, her director was a sadist; rehearsals when the clock was still in single digits were cruel and impossible to survive without the proper amount of caffeine). It wasn’t so surprising to see him, really, considering they were neighbors. She’d spotted him here and there the last few weeks, but had thought it best to keep herself out of his way for a little while.
Now, though, it would be strange not to greet him, considering it was pretty clear that he had seen her. And -- a mental sigh -- she owed him, rather a lot.
Accordingly, she put on her friendliest smile, lifting one hand in a wave. “Good morning, neighbor,” she called to him. “Are our minds running in parallel this morning?” After all, he had all but made a beeline for the shop (that he had done it to approach her never even occurred as a possibility). “Shall I buy you a cup?”
He tried to smile, but ended up settling on a neutral expression. Somehow, he hadn’t actually thought that he’d have to interact for long with her; he really should have known better, though. He couldn’t think of the last time he actually managed to just say hi and walk off. Last time, actually, there had been coffee. And awkward conversation.
And it looked like today was going to be a repeat of then.
There was always the option of saying no, of course, but then why the fuck had he crossed the street in the first place? He shrugged. “Sure,” he told her. “I could use the caffeine.” Which was true since he needed to be awake for the rest of the day.
“Couldn’t we all?” she said easily, seemingly unbothered by his usual taciturn manner. If all else failed, she would repeat the feat she had managed upon their last casual meeting and fill all the silences with her own words (as for their more recent less-than-casual meeting, meant that it wasn't mentioned at all). “Someday, someone very wise will realize that at least half the world -- the sensible half, I’d say -- prefers to sleep in the mornings, and all of our work schedules will be adjusted to suit. Or so I tell myself to get through these miserable days of rising at dawn.”
Granted, eight was hardly ‘dawn,’ even in winter, but exaggeration was a bard’s lifeblood and all that.
She re-entered the coffee shop, exchanging a smile and a shrug with the barista who had just served her. “I’m doing my good deed for the day and helping one of Emillion’s finest all in one go,” Ari told her, before turning to Jareth and saying, “Have whatever you like.”
He ordered a plain black coffee - the darker, the better. How people could drink those flavored pieces of crap were beyond him, though he did crave them from time to time. Liana had liked the caramel ones, had craved them back when she’d been pregnant with Liam. He still hated the smell and taste of caramel, if he were honest, but sometimes it was comforting.
With a squire, he was pretty sure those times were either going to be more sporadic or he was going to develop another fucking addiction.
The barista handed him his cup and he turned to Ari. “Work for the EKP, you’ll never sleep again.” It was a joke, but only barely. “At least the dead bodies in your line of work walk away at the end.” He was pretty sure that petty theft was something she did as a challenge - the girl had probably never killed anyone. Probably for the best, really, but it begged the question of what Aspel saw in her.
“One of the dozen reasons why I’d be terrible at your job,” she said with a laugh. “Then again, I think you’d find mine equally challenging. For one thing, the ball gowns would be painfully tight around your chest, I imagine. For another, you don’t seem the sort to smile prettily on command. Or cry, for that matter."” Actually, the thought of him in her Sorana costume bemoaning his sad fate -- mentally, she added a long, curly wig -- was a special sort of comedy.
“Look like fucking crap in a ballgown.” He paused, realized what he said and frowned. “Don’t ask.” It wasn’t an interesting story, anyway. Besides, she didn’t need to know shit about his past. Hell, she didn’t even seem to know how he and Aspel knew each other, and that was more relevant than some life that he could only remember snippets of.
“Anyway,” he continued, leading her to a table and sitting down. “Been staying out of trouble?” The last thing he wanted was to run into her again at the scene of some fucking robbery. Which there’d been a lot of lately, and it was annoying the fuck out of him. Nothing important was going missing; it seemed like someone just doing it for kicks.
Her eyes gleamed as she followed and took a seat. The director would be late anyway, she was sure; no one would notice if she wandered in with a delay (or, more realistically, everyone would expect it). A brief pause wouldn’t hurt. “Well, now I have to ask. But if you won’t tell me, maybe I’ll find some other way to ferret it out.” Would Aspel know, she wondered? It was an unexpected statement all the same -- it seemed to imply the possession of some humor, or at least gameness for the sort of chaos she and her friends got into periodically.
Imagining Jareth Monaco having fun was harder than imagining him in a ballgown and wig, but her imagination had always been strong; she managed.
“I’ve been working too hard recently to get into much trouble,” she told him. Her expression remained friendly and open; no need to tell him about any of her sidelines. As far as she was concerned, she’d had her one stroke of bad luck, getting caught by the peacekeeper, and she did not intend to repeat it again. “Nothing for you to worry about, I assure.”
“Not a chance,” he replied easily, sipping his coffee. Wasn’t like it was any of the bard’s business, and he just had to be nice, not friendly. Plus, he was doing it of his own volition - not like Aspel knew about it. That particular realization gave him pause; would Aspel be pissed that he was talking to Ari? Fuck.
Oh well. Too fucking late, but he made a mental note to talk to Aspel about it. If they actually ever talked. Seemed like all she wanted to do lately was sharpen his axe, which he wasn’t complaining about, but fuck if he could remember an actual conversation with her. Or Li, come to think of it.
“Long as I don’t catch you, I don’t give a fuck,” he told her bluntly. Honestly, he was probably the worst fucking EKP officer in existence.
“You can catch me onstage -- along with the rest of the city -- in the Founders’ Play,” she said, never missing a beat.
They were in public, after all.
And this seemed altogether a good time to excuse herself. Some conversations, she intended to avoid forever. “And speaking of the play, I’m going to be late,” she said. “I should probably go and start waving my arms dramatically, as is my sad fate until late Aries. And you should go keep the peace.” She stood up, refastened her cloak pin. “A pleasure running into you, though. Hopefully your day lacks additional surprises -- pleasant or not -- and mine abounds with them.” Her smile was knowing. “Surprises tend to be more enjoyable in my line of work, I think.”
He grinned. “Depends on your definition of enjoyable.” With that, he stood and drained the last of his coffee. “I’ll walk you out. Just give me a second.” He tossed his cup in the nearest garbage pail - disposable cups were a thing of beauty, if you asked him; he never had to do dishes - and went back to where Ari stood, motioning for her to start walking.
A smile, one that looked genuine. For a moment, Ari was frozen with her own surprise -- it wasn’t as though she had actually expected this man to enjoy any part of her company. It was a nice smile, though if she had to guess, too infrequently used (unfortunate, really). Perhaps the idea of him having fun wasn’t quite so absurd after all.
Then the moment of surprise was over (her day of pleasant surprises just beginning, perhaps?) and she was following him through the shop.
When they reached the door, he held it open and waited for her to walk through it. “See you around,” he told her with a nod, and, without another word, he turned and headed off to the sound of her cheerful, “Have a good day!”