Re: hookerville: jack & destiny
[Jack didn't know Destiny when she wasn't pretending to be somebody else so if there was a set of subtext, he was still parsing the black and white on the page. Besides, the him she'd seen with his clothes off wasn't the him under the sweater and the jeans so Jack's blue eyes were comfortably alight with an expectation he was still an unknown quantity. God knew how long that would last. She looked him over the way one might regard a poor decision made when very drunk and determining just how good or bad such a decision had been in the cool light of day. Which, Jack supposed, was much the bloody way things were right now.
He flashed a grin, sharp-toothed.] No. Cat owner. Cat keeper [He self-corrected. Bukowski liked taking flesh trophies and leaving marks as much as the most possessive of Jack's array of ex-girlfriends had ever been. There was a red, raised sear of a graze fresh flashing from underneath the cuff of his sweater, which Jack ran one finger around to loosen the sweater's grip.] I fear he'll smell the dog on me and I'll be subject to a traitor's end.
[But animal person, indiscriminate probably said something more about Destiny than Jack actually knew to interpret. The bag of groceries was full, mostly because Jack hated the idea of asking the nearest person for help and instead shoved everything in, with a lack of care for wallet rather than for the items contained therein. He had shoved both hands in his pockets and hadn't followed her through, because he was prowling, with a journalist's interested look. It was very set-dressing, in a way. It said a lot about the person meant to inhabit it, none of which lined up with what Jack had of Destiny so far.]
How many? [Touching the lace with the tips of his fingers, gently.]