Re: jack and adrian: repose news
That youth ambled around the newspaper office with mudded shoes and an air of casual insouciance and familiarity with the office - if he intended it to burn, it sheared far wide of the bloody mark. Jack's expression turned over from dry expectation to glinted amusement in blue eyes still trained in on the rebel without a bloody cause who angled in on the desk like a missile.
"I'm not bloody surprised." Jack didn't reach out a hand for the books, nor did he angle his body in toward the young man sat on the end of his desk. He unfolded the clasped hands from behind his desk and rolled his weight back against the chair. It didn't matter whether the office was trashed chaos or it was clean enough to eat off the dubious surfaces, it was still as familiar as old socks. He'd lived here three years and whoever the boy was who wore sticky expression above his features as if he was meant to be interpreted, the lines left wide for reading between - he wasn't going to make Jack uncomfortable.
Deliberately, he rolled back his shoulders and swung out one leg to put an ankle up on the edge of the desk, crossing legs and leaning back into the brace of the chair.
"Good of you, then, to bring back useless books you couldn't flog," Jack remarked without clipped cadence or slow drawl but somewhere in between. "Nubile? Not on the ads. It's not a feature I can shove in a paper." He summed up the youth in an assessing look of sharp discernment and an utter lack of interest.
"That sort of qualification is usually required for rent-boy, rather than journalist."