st john (pornoforpyros) wrote in gen_m_logs, @ 2008-06-04 16:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | jack murdock, joan allerdyce |
log: Jack and Joan.
Who: Jack Murdock and Joan Allerdyce.
What: Their boyfriends had time together, clearly they should hang out, right? Actually, Joan just wants to fuck with Jack's head for brownie points. She really would like to be named Evil Sidekick of the year.
When: Mid-afternoon, today.
Where: In the gym.
Richard and Phil played chess. So clearly, Joan should go spend some quality time with Murdock. She used to talk to him casually before Richard. Jack and her dad seemed to get along well. Now she's kind of exiled herself from most people due to ... well, due to their own stupidity. She strides into the gym-- believe it, she's been looking for Jack.
She takes a seat, Indian style on a mat near Jack. "Hi. Boxing, huh? Didn't know you did that." Nor care. She's also implying he's a big baby. She's got a copy of The Greatest Stories Never Told: 100 Tales from History to Astonish, Bewilder, and Stupefy. Loudly, she reads, "The Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock because they ran out of beer."
Jack's been in the gym for a while. It's a stress reliever. Take some time to work out, to do a couple of backflips, and take a few thousand hits at a punching bag and he feels better. It's what he did before he had Phil and sex and stuff. Reading is great, working on translations? That's great, too, but sometimes you need to burn some physical energy. Red sweatpants and a white wifebeater, a pair of boxing gloves. His feet are bare.
He's out of breath, for the most part. He's been at this for a while, and he's light on his toes, kind of hopping from foot to foot between punches. Sweating and not ashamed of it. "Hi, Joan." Leave him alone, please. He's busy.
She stares at him for a bit. Joan's kind of creepy sometimes, she likes to watch people. Her eyes are all big like an Anime character's. She flips through the book a bit, "Three cigars changed the course of the Civil War. -- Aren't you big into the Civil War?" Joan's voice is small and innocent sounding.
"No, I'm not, Joan. I'm a medieval historian, I don't know much about the Civil War." He knows more than most, but he doesn't feel like getting into it. "What's goin' on, Joan? What do you need?" He's busy!
"I can't sit here?" She narrows her eyes at him. A sigh, "Medieval?" Seriously?
"Yes." Jack punches the bag extra hard. Gives it a few kicks. His ankles and feet ache when he does it. "Why? What's up? Do you care? Does your dad want me for something? You could sit here, but you could also sit... over... there." Seriously, who reads in a gym?
"I wanted to talk to you, though." She frowns at the mention of her dad. Fuck that guy. "You know, I'm still mad at Daddy."
"What'd you need to talk to me about?" Jack's still busy, Joan. It makes him a little irritable when he's bothered. And besides, you're screwing Richard Fisk. Don't think he doesn't know that! He knows that! It bugs him.
"Mm." She doesn't really say what she's there to talk to him about. "My dad's still not approving of Richard."
"Uh huh." Another punch. Another. Another. He grits his teeth at the mention of Richard. "That doesn't surprise me." Why not? Richard is wealthy, he's handsome, he's smart. He's everything that a father should want for his daughter. Right? Of course. But Jack hates Rich People and Jack thinks that Richard killed his father. So. He likes St. John for thinking that Richard shouldn't be banging Joan.
"Do you think your father would like your boyfriend?" Ha. There. Finally. Mention of Matt 'I'm a Ghoooost, woooo' Murdock.
Jack slams his fists into the punching bag and finally turns to Joan. "What? Why? No. No, I don't."
"Why not?" Joan seems genuinely curious.
"Because my father never liked any of my boyfriends. My father never met any of my boyfriends. I never brought them home. I didn't talk about them. And it's really none of your business, and a moot point now. My father's dead."
"--Oh! Can't that Terry kid talk to the dead?" Surprised! She had no idea!
Jack grunts and punches the bag again. "Can he? Yeah, I guess. So I hear." Punch, punch, punch.
"I guess he can. That's what Richard told me." This may or may not be a lie. Joan's heart quickens, but she's talking about Richard. Her heart sped up when she mentioned his name a few moments ago.
Jack glances at her briefly. "Well, I suppose." He's crap at lying. It's obvious he's talked to Terry about Dead People Things. But he doesn't want to talk about it with fucking Joan.
Joan's done with this loser. She closes the book and stands up. "All right, I'm out of here." Asshole.
It seems like Jack is just going to let Joan leave, but when she's halfway gone he jogs after her. "Joan! Joan. Hey. How much do you know about Richard? You're close. You're really close, right? How well do you know him?"
"I know him... in the Biblical sense." Joan just winked at Jack, no joke. "Why?" Don't be creepy, Jack. You've got a man.
"Yeah. Right, so. How well do you know him? Know his personality, that is. How well do you know his history." Jack squints at her, tilting his head to one side. He feels so sleazy and kind of scared asking her this.
"Uh, none of your business, fuck you very much." She should slap that squint offa his face, she should.
"Uh, could very well be some of my business," Jack responds with that same level of rudeness. "Our families go way back, you have to understand this. My dad and Richard's dad." Either his adopted father or his biological one; didn't matter.
"No, it's not. Anything that has to do with Richard and I is between, get this, you fucking nerd, between Richard and I." She fans the book at him, like a threat to back the fuck off. "Anything he's told me or anything I know about him stays up here." She taps her forehead. Her eyes look a little dilated, like it's crazy bright in here.
"What has he told you about---" Fuck. He can't be that direct. How could he be that direct? Oh, hi, Joan, has your boy toy killed anyone and then told you about it? He pauses for a second, and then he offers her a slight grin. Acts like he's kidding about it. "Does he have a lot of skeletons in his closet? Mass murder? Organized crime?"
Joan shrugs, "Oh yeaaah. Hey, didn't your dad spend some time in the clink? Up in Ryker's?" She flips the pages in the book now, fanning them at Jack again.
"Sure did. So did Richard's dad. Both of 'em." There, see? Jackie knows that secret, at least. That whole Richard-has-two-daddies thing. Richard has two daddies and a crazy mommy. "Told you. Way back."
"Whatever, you're not impressing me!" What is he telling her this for?
"My dad's the reason Wilson Fisk didn't stay in prison," says Jack. And the more he thinks about it, the more angry he's starting to get. Joan wouldn't know why. "They weren't friends, but there was a rule. There was a motherfucking rule. My dad----Matt Murdock, Daredevil, was always off limits to Fisk's men."
Joan gives Jack the stupidest look. The 'you're retarded' look she's perfected. "Whatever!" Why are you telling her this? She turns to leave. "Bye, jerkoff."
"Yeah? Yeah?" Jack's so bad at this. He's so worked up, just by thinking about it. Joan can be as indifferent as she wants. "You can fucking tell Richard Fisk that if he really did get my dad killed that I will fucking destroy him!"
Joan laughs, "Ok, big guy." And she's gone. She really doesn't want to hang around Little Ticking Timebomb Jack Murdock. If he hauled off and ended up putting hands to her? Not only an insane Pyrotechnic Former Terrorist would be knocking down his door, Richard Fisk would have a word with him. Of course, this would all be after she kicked him in the nuts.