whiskey_jack (![]() ![]() @ 2010-11-24 15:52:00 |
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Current music: | Young Dubliners, "Saints and Sinners" |
Entry tags: | coyote, raven |
Saints And Sinners
Who: Jack and Shae
What: Jack and Shae's Backdated Parking Lot Reunion!
Where: the parking lot of Pax Letale
When: October 7th, around 11am-ish
Warnings: WHO KNOWS WHAT DA HELL WILL HAPPEN WIT DESE TWO YATS
Notes: Backdated to just after Jack's encounter with Charlie and Dorcas, and likely to set the tone for future interactions between these boys XD
Sleep was just going to have to wait a little longer.
Peeling off his filthy clothes, Jack stepped into the shower and quickly scrubbed himself clean of the previous three days' adventures in chemical overindulgence. It wouldn't do to smell - or look, for that matter - like a drunken hobo when he finally met up with Shae again. Silently he cursed himself for missing his childhood friend's You. Me. Parking lot, now. message on the building forum yesterday. He wasn't sure if the text he sent as soon as he saw the message would get through - Shae's idea of cellphone technology was pretty bare-bones - or even if the number was still good; he'd only gotten the generic voicemail greeting when he followed up with a call. Still, he didn't want to wait for a reply.
Jesus. Shae. He knew Shae was in town; they'd spoken a couple months back, and Jack had told him about getting an apartment here, but he hadn't known if Shae'd stuck around or what. His thoughts drifted back to the last time he actually saw the man he considered his surrogate big brother. It'd been some years, for sure: Shae was working a construction job in West LA and sporting a buzz cut, and Jack was barely drinking age, still teenage-skinny and looking like a scruffy burned-out headbanger, just beginning to hit his stride on the local comedy circuit. He had to laugh; a lot had changed. He wondered if his old friend would even recognize him now.
Jack pulled on a clean pair of black jeans and a black shirt and pushed his still-damp hair off his face. No time to button his shirt, no need or care for shoes, though he did remember to zip his jeans closed. He left his apartment and hurried barefoot down the stairs, past the second floor (those two crazy chicks were likely still poking around in there). Reaching the lobby, he went out to the parking lot and looked around. "Shae!" he barked. "Where y'at!" He didn't give a shit if he woke anyone up with his loud New Orleans-ism; neither did he give a shit if anyone thought he was nuts for yelling in the parking lot at 11 in the morning. He was determined to keep yelling til Shae turned up. Where the hell is he? "Shae!"