jackson harris ( werewolf ) . (likefenris) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-08-05 16:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-09-14, jackson, tessa |
i'm cautious of who i would call a friend.
Who: Jackson and Tessa.
Where: The Red Dragon Dojo.
When: Around midday.
The entirety of the previous day had been spent keeping to himself, in the space allotted to him by Troy, who had been so kind as to offer the room to him for as long as he needed it. Jackson felt uncomfortable staying in a place he wasn’t paying for, but hopefully that wouldn’t last long. Even if Troy was happy for him to stick around, Jackson wanted to be able to offer something in return, rent and money for utilities and groceries, that sort of thing. It wasn’t in his nature to coast along on the generosity of others, he hadn’t been raised that way, and wolves were prideful creatures. Lone wolves, whether it was by choice or not, learned a sort of fierce independence, and letting someone else provide for him just felt wrong on some level. Jackson needed to find a job. That had been a priority for a while now anyway, but after recent events the importance of securing employment had become second to none.
Maybe later in the day, he thought to himself as he made his way downstairs, he would head on out and go on another hunt for vacancies, perhaps even check up on those he had already applied for. The wait, the silence, was the worst thing, he had come to realise. Back in Lemberg, someone in the pack had always needed work doing, and there had always been odd jobs going, but outside of his home town things were so different. Even now, after months of trying to adjust, Jackson was still having trouble.
The dojo beneath Troy’s apartment was impressive to say the least. It was hard not to be impressed when someone started their own business, got it all off the ground and kept it running, and if Jackson understood things correctly Troy -- who didn’t run things by himself, he had pointed out -- was doing very well for himself. Scarlet Oak probably didn’t have anything else like this, the werewolf thought, but just because it was the sole provider of such a service -- if it could be called a service; facility was probably a better word -- that didn’t mean there would be a lot of people ready and willing to make use of it. That didn’t seem to be the case here, Jackson thought, not if the dojo was doing well. Idly he found himself wondering how much a place like this cost to run, and how much profit they made on a monthly basis.
None of his business, really, and so he turned his thoughts elsewhere, namely to the decor of the ground floor space and the layout in general, being careful where he set his feet and what he touched so he wouldn’t disturb any of the equipment. He didn’t want to do anything to disrupt his host’s business and main source of income, not when Troy was being so generous to someone who was practically a stranger.
Jackson had been in the process of studying a piece of artwork on the wall when he heard a door open at the front of the building. His head, and with it the majority of his focus, turned in that direction, the muscles in his body tensing discreetly. Instinct was tough to fight when it was one of the main driving forces of your life and had been for several months; the fact that Jackson didn’t even think to fight his instincts didn’t help, either. It wasn’t good to be so on edge, but he just couldn’t help it nowadays.