Re: hookerville: jack & destiny
[He looked at her, in outline against the fridge. Even then, she looked half-way between the woman of the night and the cross-country running bohemian. He'd come to an answer sometime through the execution of bacon by wooden stick rather than proper funerary arrangements, whether she was Snow White, Eve or something else. It was both, daydreamer and inured, from the look of her, to the type that traipsed through this part of town. Jack folded his fingers together, thoughtful.]
Oversensitive daydreamers. I'll remember that one. The rest of it is horse-shit, in my opinion, but according to you, and the stars, I'm stubborn, Snow White. [And he bloody was, but so was half the world and the half that wasn't probably were clever. Either way, you matched the description. He stood abruptly, dusting off the faint polish of crumb from the disintegrated crust of the sandwich and met her halfway, between the cushions and the kitchen. What he would do with an acquaintance with a daydreaming, pet-owning, small-human toting woman who made cash presumably in the present location, Jack didn't know. Maybe this was why self-preservation kicked in, in the dark when he was himself. She had a smile like a candle, but she wasn't smiling now. Perhaps it was polite, the invitation. Perhaps he was just bloody perverse when he said it.]
Given it would inevitably be polite to return the favor, I'll offer to buy a sandwich made by someone expert rather than do it myself next time.