Re: Quicklog: Marvel, Clem & Jake
[Jake knew the smell of bleeding man a sight better than he could name Chanel No.5 right off. He'd bled in small rooms, until the walls started to smell like pennies, and until you got straight enough to stand upright. He assumed the pretty smell followed Clementine like she began and ended it, instead of being out of a bottle you could squirt, but Jake had the fond imaginings of a boy who had never gotten too close to women for some of the mystery to rub off good.
Joy being raised by Graham Jake wouldn't have placed any bets on. Palmed off, whenever it was convenient, maybe, but he figured maybe she'd make seven too. Seven was old enough to know what was right and what wasn't. He hoped she'd talk like Clem, anyway, some of the silence filled up.
The car lurched forward, and Jake fell back against the seat with surprised laughter, and the thick dark hair fell in his eyes, like a hedge.] What's Michael Kors?
Work was okay. [There was a burn on his wrist, from getting too close to the hob watching the wait-staff work. All that black on black, it made the one boy with his hair pretty platinum, stand out from the diners like a candle. Art, Jake thought hastily, as if the thinking would show up front.] They got nice people, and the food's good. It ain't being a hero or nothing.