This could be the start
Who: Jackson and Pippa When: Late evening Where: The gym then the kitchen
Pippa was mostly on her way to the toolshed. She had things to find there, items she wanted, but she’d thought that she’d stop off at the gym to see if there was anything there that she could add to her new arsenal. She was extremely focused and the dried blood from the night before was still on her face except for the bits that had flaked off during the day. Pippa had her eyes set on something heavy, something like free weights perhaps, but the longer she looked around the exercise room, the less she was thinking she wanted to lug weights up to her room just for future use. Maybe there’d be more useful items in the shed.
Jackson had been in his room since Wren had given him the tour, only taking breaks for food and to send a private message to Carmel. He was engrossed in a book he’d taken from the library called Human Anatomy and had already spent hours reading through it until he got a crick in his neck and his back began to ache. Still uncertain about his freedom in this place, he stepped out of his door quietly, looking around and waiting for a guard to jump out and haul him back inside. When that didn’t happen, he made his way down the hall. He had no idea where he was going, only knowing he had some energy to burn off. Deciding on the gym, he made his way over there and stepped inside, immediately drawn to the exercise room, if only because he saw someone in there. She had her back to him, so he moved up behind her and cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said, by way of getting her attention.
"I am not a horse," Pippa said, her back still to this person. She didn't turn around right away, instead walking down by another contraption that she didn't know how to use. Frowning, she turned to see a man she hadn't seen before, eyebrow lifted as she watched him.
Whenever she met a new person, she instantly waited to see how they'd react to her tattoo. The large, unobstructed black tribal art on her skin usually drew the eyes of a stranger immediately, but this time it was competing with flecks of dried blood on the opposite side.
Jackson raised his eyebrows, chuckling to himself when she responded to him. “No, I guess you’re not,” he said, taking a step into the room. When she turned to face him, he scanned her over from her feet to the top of her head. It was then that he froze. Something stirred inside of him, and before he could help it, he was salivating. He swallowed thickly, unable to peel his eyes away from the specks of blood dried on her face. He swore if he breathed in deeply, he could even smell it. He tried taking deep breaths to bring himself under control, and before he could stop himself, he let out a low moan at the sight of it. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he turned away quickly, blinking to try to erase the image that was burned in his retinas. “I’m...I’m Jackson, and you’re...in trouble,” he whispered.
Oh, a challenge. Interesting. Pippa cocked her head to the side, eyes boring into his as she watched his reaction. Definitely not just the tattoo, he saw something else there. No one hated tattoos that much that she'd instantly be in trouble with them. "How so? How do you know you aren’t in trouble also?" Pippa asked, arms moving to cross over her chest. She took in his movements carefully, watching his fists clench, watching him turn away, and certainly already debating that that sound he'd just made was in reference to.
“I am in trouble,” Jackson whispered, looking down at the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, bowing his head and starting to pace. He wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at her. But there was that blood on her face, even dried, and it was calling to him. Begging him to have just one little taste. And he didn’t have to hurt her to do it. Really, he didn’t. He could just simply..... His mind seemed to break at that moment, and he was crossing the room in strides, hands gripping her shoulders and backing her up against the wall. He wasn’t rough, just forceful. He pressed his cheek against hers, breathing her in. “I am so sorry for this,” he said, pulling back a bit so his tongue could flick out and lick over her cheek.
That threw Pippa for a loop. She'd been thoroughly ready to just bash his head in like she'd so rudely been treated and then get on with her day, going to find items that she could hoard in order to deliver the same fate to her enemy, but then this was happening and her mind went blank with how to react. It was so out of left field and Pippa was grinning by the time he pulled back, amusement clear on her face.
"Metallic enough for you?" She asked, the laughter evident in her tone as well. This guy literally crossed a room to come lick the bloody flakes off her cheek and the just sheer oddity of it had Pippa shaking her head. "Buy a girl dinner first, damn…"
Jackson had only pulled back for a moment. There was still blood on her face, and he hadn’t had nearly enough. He wasn’t sure what to expect as her reaction, but for her to laugh.... that, well, that tickled him. He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “May I escort you to the kitchen to make up for my rude behavior?” he asked, getting a grip on himself for the moment, though his eyes were still on the blood remaining on her face. “What happened to you?” he asked, licking the pad of his thumb and using it to wipe away a smear of blood. He searched her for the wound, knowing it’d be scabbed over by now, his mind going to dark places. He finally found her eyes again. “Did some mean bastard hurt you, pretty girl?”
Pippa stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. "You think you're cute, don't you?" She asked, not answering either question. For one, the underestimation of her abilities rubbed Pippa the wrong way, but secondly, she wasn't going to the kitchen, full of sharp objects of its own, with a man who'd just licked her cheek, no matter how amusing it had been at the time.
Jackson frowned at that, shrugging his shoulders. “No, not really,” he said honestly. “I mean, I’ve been told I’ve got pretty eyes, but look at my nose. It’s sort of bulbous, and I don’t care for it. But it’s the only nose I have, so I got to live with it.” He looked at her closely for a moment. “Why, do you think I’m cute?” he asked, looking somewhat suspicious at the idea. He took a step back, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Why are my looks coming into question? Do you only go to get a sandwich with someone with high self esteem?”
"I think you mistake what I mean by 'cute'," Pippa said, tilting her head the second way. "You just licked my face, I get to ask you whatever I want." Pippa moved to sit down on a padded seat of a weight machine, leaning back on her hands and extending her legs out. "Explain to me why you think that I would let anyone get away with hurting me, bastard or no. And while you're at it, maybe what you found so enticing about the dried blood on my face that made you want to lick it. You don't even know my name."
Jackson looked at her, his own head tilting to the side as he studied her. “I don’t recall saying anyone got away with hurting you. I believe I asked if they hurt you.” His eyes went up to her hairline, still looking for the wound. He licked his lips, tearing his eyes away so he could focus on talking to her. “I don’t know the names of a lot of people,” he said, as if those words explained everything. “Maybe I should ask you what you’re doing wandering around a correctional facility with blood dried on your face. You never know who you’re going to run into. Some people are like sharks. They’re attracted to the scent.” He moved to sit down on another machine, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I told you my name. I can’t help it if you didn’t return the favor, now can I?”
"Mm, but you said it in a way that makes little ol' me think that you think I can't handle myself. What about me makes you think that?" Pippa asked, watching him lick his lips, watching him watch her. Damn this man was just…delightfully weird. "Oh, Jackson, don't you know? We're a rehabilitation initiative and as part of my rehabilitation, the doctors don't think it's wise that I hide myself for the comfort of other people."
Grinning again, she leaned forward, bringing herself closer to him intentionally. "So you're used to getting what you want without the bother of asking? Is that it? That I should somehow feel obligated to let you know my name just because you told me yours? Whatever happened to mystery?"
Jackson pulled back from this girl who seemed to assume a lot of things about him based on the few moments that they’ve known each other. He was half tempted to get up and leave the room, blood be damned. Yeah, like that would ever happen. “I’m pretty sure me calling you a pretty girl was not me implying that you’re weak. That seems to be your way of looking at it, not mine. Maybe you’re the one with the ‘maybe she’s too weak’ issue.” He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them. He snorted when she called this place a rehabilitation initiative. “Yeah, sure it is,” he said, shaking his head. “I can see they’re off to a fine start. If I were used to getting what I wanted, I’d be out on the streets doing what I want, and not in this place having an unusual conversation with a pretty, but weird girl.”
Pippa laughed again, leaning her head on her hand, elbow on her knee. "I like you, Jackson," She said, the grin just a bit too wide to be comforting. He was keeping up with her where most people weren't able to or interested to do so. There was a reason she didn't answer the question on whether someone hurt her or not. For her plans, she didn't need a record of her verbally admitting to anything. So instead of bringing up the topic again, she focused on him instead. "And what would that be? Licking the blood off of someone else's face?"
“Yes,” Jackson said immediately, not even pausing a beat. “I would be licking the blood off of someone’s face. What can I say? I have a taste for it.” He looked up at her, eyeing her. He was a bit wary of her. She still hadn’t told him her name. He wouldn’t go into any more detail about his own personal interests. He’d made the blood thing obvious by licking it off of her, so there was no sense in denying that. “What would you be doing if you were free?” he asked.
"Maybe I'd be doing the same thing," She offered, shrugging a little. "Or maybe I'd be grabbing spray paint and tagging 'Pippa' on all the buildings I could. Or maybe I'd be staging a bank robbery or jumping out of an airplane. Probably at least that last one." Standing up, she nudged her head towards the door. "I'll take you up on that sandwich now."
Jackson raised an eyebrow. Pippa? Why would she spray paint Pippa on anything? he wondered, getting to his feet. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the desire to jump out of an airplane,” he said, falling into step beside her as they exited the weight room. “I don’t think I could rob a bank either. I’m smart, but I’m not that smart. I’d screw up somewhere, and I’d end up....well, here,” he said, motioning to the gym around them. “Or maybe back where I came from. I can’t say I want to be in either place.”
"It's not so bad here." Yet. "What landed you in here in the first place, if it wasn't robbing banks…" She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket, making a point to walk from heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe for a few paces as the brought then through the courtyard back toward the house. She purposefully walked on his right side, presenting the dried blood to him as they walked.
Jackson kept his eyes straight forward as they walked, and when she asked what he was in for, he shrugged. “Look me up sometime,” he said. “I can be googled.” He looked at her, winking, his eyes going up to her head. “So where were you hit?” he asked, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. His eyes took on a dreamy expression. It was a good thing this girl hadn’t met him while she was still bleeding. There’d be no idea what would have happened to her then.
"But we can't google in here," Pippa said, looking back his way. She watched him watch her again, just so purely fascinated by the way he seemed so intent on staring but not staring at her cut. "A dead man hit me with a lamp last night," She answered.
Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “A dead man once bought me a drink,” he said, exiting the gym with her and turning in the direction of the kitchen. “It was unfortunate. I’m sure he didn’t deserve it, but that’s the thing about life, you don’t have to deserve it for it to happen.” He frowned, his eyes going to her hairline again. “You sure you don’t need stitches? I’d ask if you’ve been to the doc yet, but considering you were covered in blood when I met you, the answer is probably no. Unless that doc is really negligent.”
That was amusing to Pippa and it showed in her grin. So he had some dead men in his background. Interesting. "Well, my ghost deserves it," She started, tucking her hands into her pockets. "I think the bleeding's stopped. Besides, if I get stitches, there won't be any forehead blood for you to lick."
Jackson grinned then, the smile almost wolfish. “I like the way you think,” he said, linking his arm with hers. The kitchen came into view and he steered her in that direction, opening the door for her to walk inside ahead of him, then followed her in, letting it swing shut behind him. “So, sandwiches are on the menu, correct?” he said, looking around. He was still new here so he wasn’t sure where everything was just yet.
This guy was so weird and Pippa couldn't help but grin a little at that fact. She did manage to stifle a laugh, though. Entering the kitchen, she leaned against the nearest counter and watched him. "Sandwiches are on the menu, yeah. You think I'd request an imaginary food source?"
Jackson shrugged, locating the bread and lunch meat, putting both on the opposite counter. “Why not?” he said. “Let’s make up our own menu filled with food that doesn’t exist then throw a party and watch everyone’s confused reactions when they show up.” It sounded like fun to him, anyway. He began preparing the sandwiches, going to get a knife out of one of the drawers to apply the mayonnaise. “Do you like mayo or would you prefer mustard?” he asked.
Pippa watched him, tilting her head a little bit as a grin. "Which do you think I look like? A may or a mustard?" His imaginary menu had her grinning though. "It'd be like in Hook when they're all eating food that Robin Williams can't see. Perfect!"
Jackson turned to look at her, a frown creasing his forehead and tugging down the corners of his mouth. “Hook?” he repeated, trying to remember what she was talking about. He was guessing a movie. He knew Robin Williams was an actor anyway, so it had to be a movie. “I don’t think I saw that one.” He went back to his sandwiches. “I’m going to guess you’re one of those wild childs that like both mayo and mustard on their sandwiches. Live dangerously.” He finished making the sandwiches and handed her one. “Bon appetit.”
"If that's how we live dangerously in this place, just kill me now…" Pippa said, taking the sandwich and biting into the corner of it, no manners really present in the way of thanking or cheers-ing him or anything of the sort. "Shame you haven't seen Hook though. You should watch it if only for the food fight scene."
Jackson laughed. “I’ve never been a big fan of watching movies. I prefer creating my own adventures. Though I guess I now have all the time in the world for cinematic experiences.” He shrugged. What a depressing thought. “Yeah, we’re living life on the edge up in this bitch.” He took his sandwich over to the counter and hopped onto it, letting his legs dangle over the side. “Do they have movies here?”
"Mm, they do. On your magical computer box that connects us directly with our overlords." Pippa said around a mouthful of sandwich. "Lots of different movies, lots of music, even some games to play. We should watch a movie sometime," Pippa said, looking back at Jackson. "You bring the popcorn, I'll bring my bloody head, it'll work out great."
Jackson smirked, his eyes going to her head again, looking for the cut he knew for a fact was there somewhere. “I always go where the blood is. They’d be fools to let me work in the infirmary around here,” he said. “But yes, I’ll bring the popcorn and you bring the bleeding, and it will be a night of magic.” Now, if she actually would bring him blood, then he probably just met his new best friend.