Re: Gotham: Jake & Clem
[No, Jake didn't want to talk about nothing that meant Graham sat down beside him, not just then and not right off. Words dried up off his tongue into rock in his throat and he didn't even know how to get started when that happened and he felt sand in his mouth now. But he knew he smelled something awful and he was dog-tired from the truck and real mournful about all those lost canvases that were out somewhere in zombie-country. He gave Clem a look that was naked gratitude from underneath the thick mop of hair, and he sat back, but his shoulders didn't unhitch just yet.
He drew one foot up over his knee, and fastened his fingers around it and he thought about the way the bad things, they stacked up like cards. Jake had no idea what the secret was and he would have had a hard time believing it any if he did, memories and parties or not.]
I got some stuff with me. [Real quiet, but he looked down at that bag like it was comfort, carrying it about with him. Inside were some of his paints and a box of charcoal and sketchbook, precious because he'd spent some of his few dollars on it from a real art store somewhere between Savannah and Vegas. There weren't many pages left, but it was carefully crammed in, under clothes and some food.]