Re: Locked: Destiny S/Jack P
[Jack knew the trailer park like most in town knew the trailer-park. A source of perpetual disapproval from the well-heeled in the neighborhood and little else. He also remembered the trailer park from an abortive, heavily loaded attempt at paying for female company. Deeply bloody depressing. But it wasn't dark out, it wasn't even threatening it. The pot-plants and the doormats added a note of domesticity to what otherwise looked transient. Temporary structure, easily pulled down. Neglected, most of them. He hadn't bothered with 'presentable' himself. A very old fisherman sweater over jeans, Jack's hair looked like he hadn't bothered to brush it after a bout editing a terrible article and he was unshaven. He wasn't bloody Robin Hood, he looked like a writer who didn't do a lot of moving around and who lived largely indoors. His fingers were twined in plastic carrier bags, marked with the logo of the local store and when he knocked, it was with the uncertainty of watching the world go past on the doorstep.]