Re: Jake R/Jack C: Gotham city quick-log
[Jake didn't think staying noplace ever again sounded like a real solid plan, but it sat a whole lot better in his belly than facing up to a wraith that was meant to be his mother and wasn't. He had plenty of memories of his momma that were sweet smells and soft, cool hands, the no-nonsense set of her mouth that meant trouble and the hum of her voice late at night. The wish lurked, in the corners and in the shadow while he thought real hard about blank paper, ink spreading in the center, blood-red.
The weight of Jack's hand was warm and sure and alive, and he didn't mind it. It wasn't nothing more than manly, which Jake figured was OK, and he looked again toward the shadows, and he turned away from the palm settled on his shoulder and toward the shadow, one reluctant step dragging at a time. His face fell into shadow, the profile cut away into darkness and Jake closed his eyes because he didn't want to see nothing that wasn't the soft, kind face of memory.]
I don't need you. [He said it brave as he could, and his voice only struggled on the n a little, fought for the push into the vowel a second and then lapsed.] You can go. I said goodbye once already before. [The press of presence, the smell of magnolias, generous and floral threaded closer and there was, in that dark little street-corner of Gotham, the faint pleasant pressure of a kiss to brow, the kind of kiss that sent good little boys right off to sleep. Jake thought briefly, fleetingly, of blood, of curled fingers loose on a pillow, but the kiss was real, real nice and the minute he opened his eyes, a flitter of dark eyelashes lifting over blue, the presence, the strong smell of magnolias, was real gone. He stood, shoulders slumped and his back slack and the thread of tension gone, but something real unhappy about that posture, staring at nothing in a Gotham alley.]