mojo_rising (mojo_rising) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2013-02-10 16:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | day eleven, evan, evan and mojo, mojo |
you help
Characters: Evan and Mojo
Setting: All over, Evening
It was strange to actually have plans, at least it was when it was Mojo who had them. The most structure in her life to date had been prison with its’ lockdown, wakeups, work rosters and meal schedules, and before that had always been a life of impulse and fluidity. Of course, the facility was a far cry from both of those previous lives, but it was still odd to think about committing to something as simple as a plan to hang out with Evan as Mojo puttered around her room.
She’d sent him a message on the journals a while back, after which she realized that she didn’t know what to do with herself for whatever time there was until he dropped in. Normally she’d have a wander, see whose path she crossed, and go from there. But normally (as much as that applied in ten days) there wasn’t a rapist on the loose. So for the moment? Mojo was doing her best to keep herself entertained in her room, pacing around each side of her dresser to bump a chess piece from each side forward.
Messy-casual was the order of the day for her once again, with her hair spilling down haphazardly over the worn collar of a t-shirt and the legs of her jeans rolled just below the knees to show the ink drawings she’d done last night; ivy and leaves that curled from her feet up and around her calves. “All over the world hearts pound with the rhythm,” she was murmuring to herself, fingers drumming on her dresser as she studied the chess board, “Fear not of man because men must die...”
After managing to get a bottle from the bar, Evan headed to Mojo's room. It was a drinking night. He felt like he needed a few, maybe she would too. Either way, he wanted to forget...more or less everything for a night. Mojo was easy for him to be around. He didn't feel pressures in any fashion when he talked to her. So, hopefully this would be just what he needed.
He got to her door and hesitated, though didn't quite know why. Maybe because this was the first time he was actively doing something of this nature. Or at least, the first time since he'd been incarcerated. So it was odd for him. Not bad, necessarily, but weird. Rolling his eyes at himself, he knocked.
“Mind over matter, soul before flesh,” she went on for herself alone, eyes snapping up from the chessboard at the sound of the knock. Moving to open it with a light bounce in her step, Mojo popped the door with a smirk in place for Evan, looking from him to the bottle in his grip. “And what’re you gonna be drinking tonight, then?” she teased in greeting, stepping back so he could come in.
He got over his hesitation faster this time, walking into her room without telegraphing that he was mildly surprised. "Vodka." he said. "I'd considered whiskey, but that to me says 'depressing'." Evan shared. "And I didn't want to start out with even thoughts of anything depressing. So we have vodka. Hope it's okay."
Not for the first time, Mojo was reminded of just how little of a normal life Evan had lived before he hit the system. It was clear in his choice, in the lack of a chaser or mixer; that served to point out that he’d never moved past the highschool drinking mentality if he’d even been big on it back then. You drank straight liquor to get drunk at that age. “Yeah, vodka’s great. We’re gonna need some orange juice or cocoa or something,” Mojo pointed out, keeping the observation free of any mockery.
By now she knew that the absences and shortfalls in experience in Evan’s life bugged the shit out of him when he thought about them, and that definitely wasn’t how she wanted the night to start. “I figure we can roll by the kitchen and grab some, and then... dunno,” she went on with a laugh. “What’d you feel like doing tonight? Hanging out here and getting your ass kicked in chess? Or heading somewhere?”
"Sounds good." Evan said, having thought they were going to head out anyhow. He didn't know exactly where, but he was kind of good with anywhere. He wasn't picky. "Out somewhere." he said aloud so they were on the same page. It wasn't that he was against her room at all, but some part of him thought it was sort of asking for trouble, even if that trouble was just his mind wandering to things that were entirely unwelcome on her end.
“Okay, now we’ll have to figure out where that might be,” Mojo pointed out lightly, fixing a grin on Evan that always seemed to imply trouble, or at least the zeal for life that led to trouble. “You want to head to the library and play the drinking-game version of ‘Where’s Waldo’? Go fire up the videogames upstairs? Maybe catch a swim? I’ve got some baggy-ass jean shorts you could borrow,” she suggested, “And it’d only take me a sec to pull on my suit. You been down to the pool yet?”
Evan liked that look. The 'trouble' look. It was part of what he appreciated about her as a person. It made him feel less like he knew what was around every corner--something he suffered from. "I haven't been to the pool." he said. "And so long as you didn't find it wildly inappropriate, I do have boxers on. Or maybe there's suits in the pool area. I have one back at my room, that's certain, anyhow. But whatever you want, really. Kitchen first, then wherever you choose."
The fact that he hadn’t been to the pool yet sealed the decision for Mojo, making her rock back on her heels and grab a dresser drawer. “There’s not a whole lot that hits ‘wildly inappropriate’ with me, if you hadn’t guessed yet,” she pointed out as she tugged the dresser open, grabbing both pieces of her swimsuit. “And I, in case the suit wasn’t a hint, am picking the pool. Everyone here needs to check it out, it’s my second favorite thing here aside from not being normal prison. Well, and the coffee, so third. And... my kind of clothes? Fourth. Maybe.”
Chuckling at herself, Mojo shrugged around the space of her room, nodding at the candles melted to her desktop, the books stacked near her bed, and the chessboard on the dresser. “Make yourself at home, I’ll have this pulled on and tied in like five,” she told Evan, heading for the bathroom and swinging the door shut.
Evan smirked a little at her before she disappeared into the bathroom, and he took the time to look around her room. He didn't touch anything. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, he was merely taking in the space. The last girl's room he'd been in was Corrine's. It said something about the person, how their personal space was laid out. Or, maybe that was just women. His own space was pretty Spartan. He didn't really spend time decorating. Girls usually did something with it though. Mojo's was interesting. He noted the candles, and wondered if she just liked candle light. He also eyed the chess board, working out what his next move would be on either end.
Working fast in her bathroom, Mojo had a flutter of anxiety as she tied the straps of her top behind her neck, letting one hand rest on the scar that curled up across her midriff. Sooner or later, someone was going to ask how it got there, and in one of the few correlations between this place and her old life? It was still something Mojo didn’t like to talk about. Pulling on her shirt and hitching her jeans back up, she was silently grateful that Reece hadn’t asked that night in the pool.
She stepped out of the bathroom as she fastened her jeans and yanked her belt tight again, grinning at the sight of Evan studying her chessboard. “I’m on the verge of victory this time, I think. Checkmate in like three moves.”
He nodded, able to see where she was talking about. "Maybe at some point we should play. Can't promise I'd be as good as you, though." he added. "But I suppose there'd at least be the minor joy of being less predictable than playing against yourself." he added, turning his attention back to her. "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to play against myself."
“Oh dude, I play total slop,” Mojo assured him with a smirk and a shrug, “But yeah, it’d be fucking wicked to play against someone I don’t need a mirror to stare down.” Sitting on the edge of her bed, Mojo worked quickly to tug on her shoes without socks, leaving them unlaced. Why bother if they had five minutes to the kitchen and pool before they came back off?
“And you should try sometime. It’s not that hard, really, you just need to, like... detach from the idea that it’s you on both sides. When I make a move I tell myself ‘yeah that bitch’ll hate this shit’,” she confided wryly, grabbing her key. “Maybe detaching isn’t the right word. Pretend works better.” Which was still odd for adults, she knew, but it was something light to encourage Evan at, and Mojo already knew he needed a hobby beyond brooding over things he had no answers to.
"Detaching sounds more apt." he said. "But I guess maybe someday, I'll give it a shot." he added, shrugging. It was better than nothing. And if he wound up having to babysit someone in detention, he'd need something to do there, too. Opening the door for her, he recognized it sort of absently that he was holding the door for her. Some long disregarded habits apparently fell into place when you weren't looking.
The little bit of etiquette wasn’t unnoticed, though Mojo didn’t say anything, she just gave the faintest of smiles as she glanced down at her shoes fleetingly, stepping out. Once Evan was clear and she’d locked up, she nodded in encouragement again as they started for the kitchen. “You already know how to play, I’m guessing, so yeah. No reason not to,” she agreed, “And if or when you have to take turns watching someone? It’s that or bring a book. Or drop me a line and I’ll bring sock puppets.”
And with Mojo, that wasn’t too absurd to be real; not unlike the half-finished scoreboard she’d stashed in her closet before Evan’s arrival. At some point it’d come out, and even if it was just one laugh she got for it? With someone like Evan, that seemed like a fair payout. Really, that was a fair payout from anyone for the things Mojo did to keep herself busy.
Evan laughed at that, grinning for a heartbeat. "Sock puppets, huh? That I have to see. You going to do Macbeth, or something original?" he asked. "As for taking a book, yeah, that's the plan so far. A lot of reading. Which is fine, it's basically how I spent most of my time in lock up, but still. Variety, and all that shit."
“I take requests, actually,” Mojo informed him with mock-primness, backing into the kitchen door to swing it open. “My only rule is that it has to be something with multiple voices for me to do? So not, like, Twain’s collected essays even if they’re awesome. I have to like entertaining at least as much as you like being entertained.” She chuckled as she moved for the fridge, popping the door open to grab a carton of orange juice. “And you know if I did this, whoever was in the cells would get you fired for bringing in a crazy woman to torment them.”
"That's pure speculation. Torment is in the eye of the beholder. I could simply have been massively concerned about their mental state, being locked up like that, and thought providing some form of entertainment could only improve their conditions." Evan said, smirking. "And hm. How big a cast are you talking, here? How many socks are you willing to sacrifice to your art?"
Heading for the cabinet where glasses were kept, Mojo set the juice aside before boosting herself up onto the counter, then raising both feet so Evan could see her untied shoes and lack of socks under them. “Until we get some snow around here, I don’t think I’ll need ‘em at all,” she answered with a grin, stretching languidly to reach behind her in a blind search for glasses. “The real cast limit is how many combinations of accents and lowering my voice I can keep track of, and I’m good for like ten on that score, if not more,” Mojo boasted as she grabbed a pair of glasses and slipped back off the counter.
He quirked a half smirk at that, letting her get them whatever she wanted, since she was running that part of the show anyhow. "Ten or more, good to know." he commented. "You could always write your own play. Try your hand at it. I bet it would come out interesting. Mostly you'd just need to work out who your main character was, and whether or not it was going to end with 'rocks fall, everyone dies'."
Apparently that had never occurred to Mojo, because Evan’s suggestion first drew a puzzled, thoughtful look, and then one of delight as her eyebrows tented upwards and an open-mouthed smile blossomed. “Oh shit,” she breathed zealously, “My own, like, rock opera? That’d be ridiculous... and a main character and an ending? That’s all you think I’d need to get it rolling?”
It seemed like the idea was one she could get behind, and was even considering as they spoke. “You know this means you get to help me do dramatic readings of whatever I crap out now, right?” Mojo pointed out, gathering the glasses and juice before she started out of the kitchen.
"Isn't that the basics of every story?" Evan pointed out. "So, yes. Your own rock opera." he told her, flashing a momentary grin at her reaction to the whole idea. It was nice to see, and he sort of hoped she would run with it now. Or, he was amused with it all right up until she roped him in. "Wait, do what now? No. It means I get to watch, and occasionally give creative input, if you get completely bitchslapped with writer's block." he insisted, following behind her.
“I guess it is?” Mojo agreed, glancing back at Evan as they walked. “But you also get into the idea of themes and the hero’s journey and all that, so there’s a little bit more to it.” But that was still a sign that she was taken with the idea, and even if Mojo wouldn’t share yet? She was already wondering about what might make a good story. “And dude, c’mon Evan,” she pouted, “What’s so bad about hanging out and reading back and forth with me? It’s not like anyone’d see it aside from the usual fucking voyeurs.” That, as she raised the hand carrying the juice to stretch her middle finger up, assuming a camera somewhere would catch it.
"If you're writing about a hero." Evan pointed out. He again had a little hint of a smirk as she flipped the bird to no one in particular. Or the cameras. Whichever. "And nothing's bad about it aside from the me participating part." he told her, getting to the pool door and again holding it open for her. "I am not an actor. So unless you want me to read for a part of someone who has few social skills, is very cynical and has taken a course in sarcasm, you might be shit out of luck."
He was apparently all about the little acts of gallantry tonight, or just courteous in general. Either way, Mojo grinned at Evan slightly as he held the door for her, sauntering just a bit closer to him before moving past. “I’m not an actor either. Like, if I’d been in normal school as a kid i would’ve been a tree in the school plays,” she stressed, turning to walk backwards so she could face Evan as she spoke.
“That’s kinda ideal for this, though. I think if I were writing something, I’d want it to be something normal, non-actor people could read without chewing off half of their tongues,” Mojo explained, stopping by one of the poolside chairs to set everything down. “Or? I could specifically write a character exactly like you’re describing. See how you deal with that,” she mock-threatened impishly, kicking her shoes off.
He noticed she got closer there, but dismissed it as unintentional. His gaze followed her as she spoke, as he shut the door behind them. "I call bullshit." Evan said first. "You are not a tree in the school play kind of girl." he said, tone holding authority on that. He noticed that there was a rack of bathing suits off to the side, though he didn't go in that direction yet, instead going to drop down onto one of the chairs near the one she'd put everything down on. "You're that girl who's just slightly terrifying to most of the guys in school who have a crush. And I don't see you as a drama kid, but if you did go for a play, you'd nail a major role."
“Or I’d overdo my audition and play some pranks in a horribly misguided attempt to get the cast to bond,” Mojo countered, shrugging at her own words. “And slightly terrifying? Really? That’s... kinda awesome.” She could be daunting, no doubt about it, but Mojo didn’t ever see it that way and in the moments where it might happen? She wouldn’t have time to piece together someone else’s perspective and realize it, either.
Settling on the edge of her pool chair, Mojo uncapped the orange juice and poured them each most of a glass, leaving enough space for a few shots worth of vodka in each. She could handle hers, but Evan would probably need to experiment and find a happy medium. “So,” she said as she poured, “Should I shut my eyes so you can change? I’d hate to spoil your virtue.”
"Or you'd do that. But you wouldn't be a tree." Evan said, deciding his point was still valid. "But yes. Slightly terrifying." he confirmed for her. "And I guess." he said, not really caring so much. He got up to walk over to where the swimsuits were, and merely moved behind the rack itself, so he wasn't flashing her. As he tugged his clothes off, he absently noted the scars he'd collected over the years. He wasn't a road map by any stretch of the imagination, but he'd definitely seen some violence in his time inside. He made quick work of getting changed, walking back to dump his clothes and shoes on the bench he'd claimed as his own.
Yeah, his nickname had been well-earned, and the thought showed in the silent appreciation Mojo wore on her face as she watched Evan step out. He was solid, just the right amount of defined... and these were the kinds of thoughts that fucked up a friendship. But she was still smiling as Mojo padded over barefoot, but still clothed, offering Evan his glass of orange juice. “Point taken, I’m not a tree,” she conceded once she handed it over, stopping to grab the vodka and uncap it, then measure out a few shots’ worth of vodka into her glass. “And why slightly terrifying, exactly? I’ve had some weird-ass descriptors thrown at me before, but that’s a new one,” Mojo clarified, stirring her drink with a finger and tasting it quickly, then smacking her lips in approval.
Evan noticed she seemed to be looking at him a little less than normally. He might have wanted to venture into the idea that it wasn't quite an innocent type of look, but he shut that thought down before it could get too far. Taking the glass, he made an attempt not to feel self conscious, though failed a bit. At least he knew how to answer her question. "Slightly terrifying in the way that most guys would find you hard to ignore, but would still probably find you unattainable." he said. "Add on top of that the fear that if they did by some miracle get a shot with you that they'd fail to live up to some impossible standard, and you get a nice mix of attraction and terror."
“Like I give dudes fearections?” she balked jokingly, playing up some note of surprise before Mojo looked away. That had been praise in there, really, and it wasn’t exactly good to hear. It was, in all the conventional ways? But not as much when Mojo was resolute about maintaining her borders, but also drinking with Evan and preparing to strip down to a two-piece bikini. “Really weird to hear, but thanks for explaining,” Mojo added as she kept from watching him, kept from asking about his scars, and just headed back to where she’d put her shoes.
Then? Off came the clothes. And fast, at that; she only had a t-shirt and a pair of overly loose jeans to deal with, leaving Mojo’s belt as her heaviest barrier. With it gone there was just smooth skin on display; pale from confinement and Colorado seasons, wiry in the right spots and slightly curvaceous, and marked with multiple tattoos and one prominent scar. “So... drink first or swim first?” she asked glancing Evan’s way as Mojo adjusted her suit bottom slightly.
Evan chuckled. "Something like that." he told her. Though as he watched her toss the clothes, he had to mentally add to that. Abso-fucking-lutely. Which wasn't what he should be thinking. But he was human, and heterosexual, and she was gorgeous. Even with the scar fully displayed, which, despite his best efforts, his gaze was drawn there. He supposed there were worse places to find himself looking at, or to get caught letting his gaze settle too long, but still. Stop it. he told himself, and instead, he focused on his drink, opting to take a large gulp while he was at it. It helped refocus his attention, at any rate. "Whichever you want. Lady's choice."
He wasn’t the only one who noticed the attention of another person, not even close. If anything, Mojo felt it more keenly, something that stemmed from it happening somewhat regularly outside of prison. She’d always been a head-turner. But where Evan chose to disbelieve his instinct, Mojo just disregarded hers; plenty of guys checked her out, it was just reflex. And with everything Evan had on his mental plate? That was all it was.
“We can at least have one before we hit the water, yeah?” she opted thoughtfully, moving to settle into her chair and stretch her legs out. “Otherwise we could’ve just come down here first, then gone to the cafeteria to drink later. And that’d make too much sense, dammit! So cop a squat, tell me what I’ve missed in your part of this fucked-up little ant farm since yesterday.”
"Sure." he said, especially since he was already into his own drink. "Sense is overrated." He watched her stretch out, and decided his best bet was to walk over and sit on the edge of the pool, back mostly to her even if it wasn't entirely. He sat a little sideways, in order to be able to keep her in sight. She just wasn't comfortably so. He took another drink, setting the glass down on the tile. "I went to lunch with everyone else who was up for governor. And people were a little all over the place til one of the girls pointed out that it was all moot til the votes were in. So, that was about as fun as it sounds. After that, Edan's apparently moving to my block, and we had a massively awkward encounter."
“That’s right! Lunch with a mobster!” Mojo recalled, her reclined pose lasting all of ten seconds before that had her sitting up animatedly. “And he won the job, even, which is... I don’t know. We’ll see, I guess. I voted for that guy Charlie.” She could’ve voted for Evan, but it was pretty clear to her that he wasn’t looking for that kind of burden. “And really? We can just relocate rooms whenever? Or is this because she was hanging out with a maybe-psycho and finally had some sense touch down?” Mojo asked curiously, tipping her glass back. “And just awkward-awkward? Or did something specific happen this time? I kinda figured there had been enough already for shit to be weird with you two for a while.”
"I don't know why she moved, honestly, not entirely. Just that she is. And, I guess people can move." Evan said, shrugging. "And Charlie...yeah. That guy." he said, shaking his head. "He comes off to me like a dude who's an idealist and has a really heavy case of oppositional defiant disorder. He distrusts all authority, just by virtue of it being authority. He was talking about a true democracy. Then when we were getting into rules, and who made them, he was saying that people made the rules, and I really really wanted to point out that no, actually, the elected officials do. But whatever. Mostly I think he's one of those types who actually does mean well, just his methods wouldn't work and nothing would ever get done. But yeah, now we're all under a mobster's rule. That'll go well." he said. "As for Edan, I don't know. She insisted she was going to make me lunch tomorrow or somesuch. I'm sort of at that point where I just don't know what it is she wants out of me. If anything, at this point. I just know I think she's kind of crazy, and she seems incredibly high maintenance. Like we were talking about before, the whole...I don't know. Looking for someone to rescue her or something. I'm sure she could find someone to sign on for that. There are men in this world who would trip over themselves to do that for her. It isn’t like she isn’t pretty, or even personable when she’s on an even keel. So there’d be a ton of guys who would be perfect for what she wants them for. It just isn't me."
And in something that Mojo was realizing was apparently normal for Evan, that was a lot to hear at once. She supposed it made sense though, given where he’d been before here. He was probably used to carrying around tons of unspoken thoughts, and even now that he could share them he likely didn’t do it enough. Plus, really? This place seemed like it was uniquely set up to stack those sorts of thoughts up fast, with what Evan had to deal with. “I guess if you believe what Wu had to say, he’s at least used to being in charge? Which sounds like a step up from what you worry about with Charlie,” she offered first, taking a longer gulp of her drink as she considered his comments on Edan.
“Have you considered that Edan might not want someone else to sign on?” Mojo asked next, reaching to refill her drink, “Like, to date? You’ve directly helped her twice, not cut ties when she crossed personal lines, and even got help to her when you couldn’t be there directly. You said it yourself that you need to figure out how to be a dick, and that’s not how.” Smirking lightly at Evan, Mojo leaned a bit to grab the vodka, tilting another splash into her glass.
“That’s actually how you send the message that you genuinely care, because when people do? They stick it out through the crazy behavior, through the shit that makes them want to bail and the misunderstandings and the shitty moments. Accepting lunch is another way to send that message,” Mojo added with a wink, “And I’m not saying you’re wrong to have done any of it, you’re not. Because you’re not a shitty dude in that way, despite the five homicides. The point of all this, I guess, is that if you want to know what she wants? Take away possibilities one at a time, fucking remove them from existence, and see how she reacts when there’s no chance of getting them. Each one you pull off the table and she doesn’t bail? That’s one more chance that maybe she’s not entirely crazy, and is just really needy instead.”
"I believe him. He carries himself like someone who's used to people deferring to him." Evan said, knowing that was vague, but it was just something he noticed. "He talks like it too. And it's not really the overwhelming factor I'm worried about with Charlie. It's that he just talks to me like someone who is going to expect a lot better out of people than he'll ever get. I know I'm cynical, but I'm not always wrong, either. And we're in the middle of delinquent central--there are people who've already trashed the laundry room and set fire to books for no good reason. Someone with a mentality like that is going to buck the system just to buck it. I suppose that's the true tragedy of the idealist--if people weren't fucking assholes, they'd probably be the best people to have running shit."
He turned his thoughts to Edan, listening to what Mojo said as he drank more. When she told him he wasn't properly being a dick, he gave a faint smirk in return. "I sort of think dating and saving her might be the same thing for her. Mind, that's pure speculation, I could be wrong. But that's the impression I get. And you're right. I'm failing, there. I guess I just don't want to be the one who becomes her everything, but at the same time I suck at standing back and letting her figure it out, especially when she tells me shit like she's staying with someone who scares her." He paused. "Good christ, I'm a lot more easily manipulated than I thought." he said, a pinch of true distaste directed inward in his tone. "I think she's on the level. But if she isn't? Jesus."
Evan killed the last of his drink in pretty rapid succession. "I don't do well with needy." he said, voice quieter than it had been.
This wasn’t quite the start of a more relaxed evening that Mojo had been hoping for, and just like last time she knew it was the subject matter. “Don’t call it you being manipulated,” Mojo corrected, “Even if that’s basically what it is, it’s still more that you don’t naturally suck as a person. Sometimes being decent just works against people. That’s why you need to not be, even if in this case it might screw Edan over.”
Nursing her own drink, Mojo feigned subtlety and sneaky glances as she grabbed the bottle and started lining up a pour into Evan’s glass. “Like okay, she moved rooms. That’s a good thing, it means there’s space from the crazy guy, and she hasn’t asked you to plug a hole yet. So when it comes to lunch tomorrow? if she starts getting pushy or making you feel obligated or anything, you need to just tell her that it’s bugging. Don’t let her explain her intentions or anything, tell her what hits a nerve, and if she doesn’t back off? Fucking bail,” Mojo asserted. “It might suck to do, but not as much as feeling the way you do looks to. You’ve got to prioritize your own well being over the idea of Edan having to handle some shit alone, plain and simple.”
Evan was quiet as she spoke, eyes on a middle distance as he listened. He also didn't stop her if she was going to do more pouring. He leaned back in the lounge chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, which was lower than he thought it should be. But it wasn't a huge pool or anything. The ceiling in here wasn't any higher than the ceilings in any other room.
He vaguely recognized that his focus needed to be elsewhere. And it wasn't like he'd been tuning Mojo out, or anything. He just re-focused more deliberately. Last time I told her to flat out leave, and she refused to. went through his mind, but he didn't say it. Instead, he merely nodded, not giving her a verbal response. The nod was sufficient, in his own mind. He heard what she said, and he wasn't disagreeing with anything. He was still spinning his wheels a little on the idea that he was just an easy mark, when he hadn't thought he was.
By now, Mojo was starting to just recognize the look Evan had. The lack of focus, the distance in his eyes; she’d seen both the last time they’d hung out, and it had happened when she had made him realize something he didn’t like. This time, Mojo wasn’t thinking it was her bad, but the resulting look was still worrying. “So I’m gonna come with you to lunch tomorrow,” she said decisively, “Even if I wasn’t invited or anything. Don’t care, not even a little, not when I see you like this and I know it’s because of some aspect of shit with Edan.”
And she knew it was rude and presumptuous of her, but Mojo didn’t really care about how that might be perceived. She cared about seeing a problem for two of the people she counted as friends, seeing it between them. And from her outside perspective? It was stupid to Mojo, which meant it needed fixing. “You should try being a little needy yourself sometime,” she offered, idly refilling Evan’s drink, “It’s not always a shitty thing. Gives you a reason to be honest with yourself about what you want, even when you maybe don’t think you deserve it.” Which wasn’t necessarily about Evan, it was just Mojo thinking out loud, but she felt like it fit too.
Frowning, Evan ticked his gaze to her, not quite sure how to respond there. "I don't need a babysitter," he told her, though it was less harsh than it normally would have come out. He supposed there was some level of him that recognized it as a nice gesture. She was making an attempt to look out for him. Which had him feeling a little worse. Like he was just being fucking dramatic, and should get the fuck over it already, and Edan could do whatever the hell she was going to do too.
He took another drink when she was done pouring, thinking over her last statement. "I would feel like an asshole." he admitted. "Being needy, I would just feel like everyone's got better shit to do than deal with mine. No one owes me anything. I guess somewhere deep down, I'd feel like..." he trailed off, shrugging one shoulder as he sat forward, more to give himself something to do than really feeling the need to alter his position. He took another drink.
"What I want is irrelevant."
Mojo couldn’t stay reclined for very long as she listened to Evan, sipping her drink and watching the little physical cues he was showing. “How is it irrelevant when it’s you talking to you up here?” Mojo asked, tapping the side of her own head as she swung her ink-stained feet off her chair. “If it’s a situation where you’ve got people you know whose wants are upsetting you, aren’t your own at least defined by that? By wanting something that doesn’t? I mean, maybe that counts as needy in the loosest sense possible, but seriously? You need to not see this as anyone owing you.”
Scowling at that, Mojo shifted to sit side-saddle on the chair, arms folding across her knees as she watched him. “You and Corrine, was it always just you helping her out? Or were there ways she kept you leveled too? You already told me about TV marathons, too...” Mojo reminded him between drinks, smirking faintly. “What I mean is that even if it’s not the same level of friendship with me or anyone else in here, you know that it’s possible for someone to have your back without it being some kind of fucko burden. So try it.”
Again, it wasn't that Evan disagreed on any one point she made. He just wasn't quite sure he could fall in line with what she was trying to get out of him. If that was even the proper phrasing. It likely wasn't. It didn't really feel like that, at any rate. He also, abstractly and completely unhelpfully, decided that the little scowl she shot him was cute.
"It's not about levels of friendship." Evan said, not wanting her to think she was somehow below on ratings or whatever. It didn't add up in his head like that. It wasn't so cut and dried. There were a lot of other factors playing in, ones he was positive she wouldn't incorporate because she wasn't a psycho who'd killed a bunch of people and then was going to be executed for it.
"You could just stop trying, you know." he pointed out, not unkindly. In fact, there was a self mocking undertone that was nearly covered with a faint trace of amusement there. "Just call it 'Evan's fucked up' and quit putting all this effort in to fix shit."
“I know it’s not about levels, I meant more that we’re all new to each other and you’d known her for years. That shit’s different, it allows for different acts of trust,” she clarified, thinking that even if she’d never had a best friend? That seemed likely for how it worked. “And you skipping what I said about starting with basic wants means I’m kinda close...” Mojo added tauntingly, her mirth seeming to die when Evan suggested she just quit.
She balked at that, chugging down a healthy swallow of her drink and scrunching up her expression at the punch of the vodka on her tongue before Mojo hopped up, abandoning her seat entirely. “Yeah, sure... just quit,” she muttered distastefully, “Because it’s all just a project for me, right? It’s not like I want a friend in here, especially some dumb asshole who’ll watch my back in weird-ass ways and call himself on it. Nope. That’d just suck.” And as she rambled, she walked a little bit, pacing around until she had an angle on the back of Evan’s chair. And with it lined up? All at once Mojo rushed for it, putting every bit of wiry-limbed strength to work as she tried to upend Evan’s chair right into the pool. “Fuck! That!” Mojo grunted as she heaved.
Evan watched her, letting her get everything out of her system. And, when she went to push him into the pool, he didn't quite let her, moving faster than it would have taken to dump him into the water. But she did actually put in a hell of a good effort, and he nearly did end up wet. Part of him almost wished he'd have let her--mostly it didn't happen because instinct took over and he was up and off the chair the moment he felt the movement. His glass, however hit the tile, and while it didn't break, it chipped, and his drink was spilled everywhere.
He turned, and advanced on her, shaking his hand since it was now full of vodka and juice. "Morgan," he said, voice light. There was a lot he could address there, but he skipped pretty much all of it in favor of hopefully dialing back her probably perfectly valid upset. If she was really upset. "One correction, before you can try again at shoving me into the water." he started, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. "I said quit trying to fix shit. Not quit on this whole friend bullshit we're testing."
“Oh shit, alcohol abuse,” Mojo cursed at the sight of Evan’s drink spilling across the pool tile, backpedaling away a bit as if she expected a retaliatory attempt on his part. And really, she did; Mojo worked off of an eye for an eye mentality, and in her world? Evan would be hefting her into the water right now. “All I’m trying to do is give you a tiny little bump in your quality of life, okay?” she said then, her posture somewhat sheepish as Mojo realized that yeah, she was being pushy about it.
“Friends are supposed to do that, right? Either passively just by being there, or actively by stepping up when they’re needed?” Mojo posed to him. “Sometimes you look so profoundly fucking isolated, Evan. Like I’ve maybe only seen once before, if that... even if it’s just two weeks probation for us, I can’t see that and do nothing, not if I get to call you my friend.” That said, Mojo moved to reclaim her glass before taking cautious steps Evan’s way, offering hers over. “And here. Looks like yours is no good, and that’s on me. Might be a little strong though...”
"Have you been not hitting mine up that hard?" he asked, taking a drink from her glass before handing it back over. He was starting to feel the edges of a buzz starting in. Mostly because he had tolerence for shit what with not drinking for a billion years. "I am isolated." he confirmed for her. "It's probably a good thing. Doesn't mean it makes me happy, but I'm not sure what that would even entail these days, so there's that. So maybe you're starting at the wrong place." he suggested, putting her between himself and the pool.
He eyed her for a beat. "So, say you could get your way on one thing." he said. "In regards to me," he clarified. "What would you pick?"
Mojo didn’t even need to think it over, though she figured her idea may’ve been overly broad. In any case, she at least made a show of thinking about it, not taking the glass back from Evan. “Nope, mine’s been stronger, but I know I have way more tolerance than you? So yeah, savor the deliciousness, I’ll just hit the bottle when I want some more,” she answered first, smirking with awareness at how Evan had caught her between his path and the water.
“And I’m not starting at ‘happy’, I’m starting at ‘less alone’. It’s not like I think you’ll want to hang out every day, I’m not that full of myself? Just... now and then, like tonight? When you do want to it’s a good thing for me to see. I like it,” she admitted, shrugging bare shoulders. “And if I could get my way? Simple; no more retreating behind that mop. When something trips you up I want to know, I want you to be able to just say it without me being a nagging bitch. And I think you feel like that’s needy, you speaking up when you hit a stumbling point in how your life’s different from mine, or how some people make you feel shitty,” Mojo answered then. “That’s my one thing.”
"I'm talking even more basic than that. You talked about wanting me to have a better quality of life. You might want to start with what I even would consider that to be." he told her, smirking slightly as he watched her, paying attention to her every word. At least he'd been shaken from his earlier rut of thoughts.
He took another swallow from the glass, more or less deciding right then that he was probably going to get properly drunk tonight. And he couldn't care about it. "That is pretty much the opposite of my instinctual reaction." he told her, getting a little closer in a purely experimental manner. He wanted to see if she'd retreat. "I completely own up to being the type who spins his wheels on shit. And my stumbling points are usually stupid. Stupid, or just dark. Both, sometimes, if it's a really special case."
She didn’t back up, though the instinct was definitely there. But so was the pool. Mojo knew the treacherous footing she had right now, and if this went how she thought it might? She’d need proximity to be able to grab Evan and drag him into the water with her. Backing up now... that’d make it too easy. “I think improving things for you is two-pronged,” Mojo posed intently. “One of them’s having outlets for the things you can’t control, a sounding board for problems like stuff with Edan or for how removed from the rest of the world you feel. The other? Introducing new substance into your life. Art, music, movies, whatever... I think you need creative expression to associate with other people, with your experiences with them.”
To her, it made sense. He carried Corrine’s artwork on his skin, had talked about hanging around watching movies and shows with her, asked Mojo about her favorite books, accepted her offer to update his musical exposure... “You put significance into things based on the people you connect to them,” Mojo ventured challengingly, “And without that? I bet you spin your wheels a lot more than you need to. Or you’d do it less with it, you know what I’m trying to say here.”
He killed the rest of the drink, setting the glass down on the nearest flat surface. "Creative expression." he repeated. "Interesting approach." he added. And he didn't shoot her down on it. He really had no idea what he was going to be dealing with on that particular score, but he wasn't going to stop her before she got a shot to try. "I know what you're trying to say." he agreed, stopping just shy of actual contact, since she hadn't backed up at all. So he was well inside her personal space. "What's your plan for combating the part where I don't really like people all that much?"
“My plan?” Mojo echoed, crossing her arms over her stomach and looking up at Evan somewhat challengingly. “Maybe just pointing out that so far it seems like you don’t like the species, but are kinda okay with the individual? At least... the individuals who didn’t get you locked up to begin with.” And she knew that there’d be plenty more he didn’t like, but so far Mojo thought Evan was okay with her, he liked Carmel, he was protective of Edan, and he hadn’t outright insulted either Reece or Brady when they’d come up in conversation. It was a theory with a bit of evidence to it.
“And if that falls short of combating it? Best thing you can do is hang around the people you’re okay with. Solitude just means focusing on problems, so that’s right out. But this?” she said, waving one hand out to tap Evan, then back in at herself, “Aside from me losing my shit and you brooding, this is okay, yeah? It’s about as basic as it can get while still being a plan; establish what and who doesn’t suck.”
"Maybe I'm okay with the individual. Jury's still out." Evan said first. He eyed her critically, though the effect was slightly ruined by the faint amusement touching his eyes. "So far, this is okay." he confirmed for her. "I have to argue one more point." he added. "What about me sucking?" he asked. "Seems to me, the basics here are geared toward convincing me that other people don't suck. Or at least seeking out individuals who might not. But let's not forget we're talking about an individual who's ended a handful of people. Do I deserve anything but solitude? Should I even be here at all, when the justice system opted to just end me?" His tone wasn’t actually challenging--it was more curious. He honestly wanted to know what she thought.
That would’ve been more of a stumper if Evan had never brought it up before, but he had. He’d actually gone so far as to directly say that he thought the program they were in was flawed because he was in it, even. “That’s one point that becomes, like, fifty new points,” Mojo argued with a shake of her head, “Because then you’ve got to get into the morality of what you did, not the legality of it. Remember, this is the same justice system that gave me twenty years? So I’m not fucking inclined to take their judgments as gospel.”
Still, it wasn’t like that settled it, and she knew as much. It was a hard point to argue without trivializing what Evan had done or selling it short, even if Mojo found herself thinking more that the world was probably better off without Corrine’s rapists or the pedophiles Evan had eliminated. There were people who didn’t appreciate anything, gave nothing back... they only took, and now they couldn’t any more. “Do you really think...” Mojo asked then, voice quiet and eyes utterly rapt on Evan’s expression, “That you don’t deserve anything else from however long your life could still be? That you had to sign off the rest of your life for making sure those guys who hurt her, and the ones inside, that they couldn’t hurt anyone else?”
Evan watched her eyes, and wondered when he should back off, if she wasn't going to. They were so close, just barely not touching. Or he should just toss them both in the water and be done with it, but when she spoke like that... Quiet, with her eyes on his...it made ending the moment harder. Especially because he actually had an answer for her. "I knew what I was doing. Seemed like a fair trade, to me. I never felt like I got an unfair deal. Like somehow, I should have gotten a different sentence. So, I guess, yeah. I do feel like I don't deserve this, or anything else that comes with it." he said, making a vague gesture at their surroundings.
“Someone sees something different,” Mojo said then, daring just the slightest smile for Evan. “Maybe it’s a long-con kind of punishment, maybe just a chance to help people like Edan, I don’t know. I do know that believing you deserve literally nothing but the confines of yourself is some Zen fucking shit,” she teased still in that soft voice.
“Being willing to give up what you have to do what you think is right, that’s a whole other level. You don’t have to believe you’re owed something for it, but it won’t stop me from seeing otherwise. Or the people who run this place. Maybe... maybe you should try believing that someone got it right when they sent you here. Do a probationary period. Could be worth a damn,” she noted before Mojo rocked back on her heels, her shoulders angling towards the water as she reached a hand up towards Evan. He could catch her, she could fall in, she could drag him with her... all three possibilities were perfect fuel for the bright smile blossoming on her lips as she tipped back.
He had to smile at the Zen comment. And he might have had more to say on the matter, but then she was falling. And his automatic reaction was to catch her. He caught her hand, pulled her in toward him--not a far distance, by any stretch of the imagination. In one smooth motion, he turned them both around and fell backwards, arms around her to take her with him as his back hit the water first.
And there was enough time there, between the grab and turn and fall of it all, for a pure note of laughter to ring out from Mojo’s lips as Evan pulled her in. It was like an inverse trust-fall, and every bit as telling about the person involved in it, though with a pool as a landing pad? It was ten times as delightful. Sucking in a breath as they hit the water, Mojo pressed her other hand down into Evan’s chest, pushing both of them down towards the bottom of the pool. He needed to lose his bearings, and she was always happy to need to find hers again.
He had grinned at the laugh, and then there was water all around the both of them. And he was being pushed down. Which he allowed, not actually fighting it. The pool wasn't all that deep, and his back hit the bottom in no time. He opened his eyes to look around, seeing the chaos of tossed water, a surface that was uneven and giving broken, fragmented views of the world up there, and there was her, of course. He reached out to grab an ankle, to pull her back toward him, though he didn't pull too hard. He wasn't actually trying to get her so much as just make it harder for her to get away completely.
So far? It seemed like Mojo had no plans on escaping, not in the way she wriggled down through the water to nearly press flat against Evan. She wasn’t pulling at his holds on her, instead tenting her cheeks out with held breath as Mojo scrunched her expression up at him devilishly. She could wait him out, even if she knew he’d be harder to beat than Reece had been. However long it took, it was just a chance to see Evan truly out of his element, and to see how he’d react to a little competition.
So that was going to be how she was going to play it, huh? Some inner, tiny voice had a comment. I'm in trouble. But it was distant. At current, he fell into things with her, not going for the surface. And if she was going to be doing that, and get in close like that, then he decided that seeing if her sides were ticklish wasn't cheating.
She should’ve expected that, though Mojo wasn’t always reviewing everything Evan had said just in case one instance was suddenly relevant again. And even less so when she was working on keeping her breath held. So while some tiny part of her remembered talking about ticklishness with him? It remembered far too late to stop the bodily flinch he got from Mojo in time with a small jet of bubbles slipping past her lips.
’Fucker!’, her expression seemed to accuse as her eyes went wide and she worked a hand in front of him to prominently flip Evan off; a nice decoy to distract from the other as Mojo suddenly went for his armpit, seeking to return the favor.
Her ploy worked, and he twitched when she was tickling him in return. He tried to get back, though he didn't have room to go, only succeeding in scraping his shoulder against the bottom of the pool. He also had to try to not laugh, even if the initial shock had produced one. He tried again to tickle her, while trying to fend off her attack, knowing full well this couldn't go on long or anything. Breathing was a necessary thing, but he was caught up in the moment, that was for sure.
Really, Mojo had hoped that maybe his grip would loosen up enough for a proper escape, because with Evan’s hold on her? There was just the slightest bit of panicky fun infecting her thoughts, and that made it hard to figure out how to make him lose his breath. She had one option, sure, but Mojo wasn’t eager to play the flasher card just yet. Or she was, and could recognize that as a problem... Falling back on confusion, Mojo stopped tickling long enough to mime some made-up hand code Evan’s way, hoping to just catch him off-guard enough to slip free. Her lungs were burning at this point, which meant it was either time to lose or give him an eyeful.
Not being a smoker, Evan's lung capacity wasn't actually all that bad. When she started making gestures at him, he had to grin, and did actually let her go--though it was mostly just to tickle her other side. He was going to have to give up the ghost here soon, though.
An eyeful it was, then. Smirking despite the burn in her chest, Mojo reached to the middle of her top and readied to yank it up for what she liked to think was an unbeatable distraction, but quite suddenly? There he was again, tickling at her other side and making her fold in towards the assault. An exhaled gasp became a cloud of bubbles as Mojo pushed for the surface, the grunt of frustration she felt trailing dimly in the water below her.
When she headed for the surface, Evan was right behind her. He did make sure she broke it first, however, gasping in a breath when he got there. He was laughing, though, between a cough or two. He also splashed water at her, just for good measure.
“Fucker!” she blurted at Evan, hands splashing the water to punctuate each word she was yelling despite the animated grin of exertion. “Fucking! Fucker! Four points, you ass! Cheating, not as ticklish as me ass!” Winning didn’t actually mean much to Mojo, but when she did lose? She liked to take advantage of the reason to make a scene.
He kept laughing, holding up his hands to avoid some of the water she was splashing in his direction. Yeah, he wasn't even a little bit repentant. "I was not cheating! There were no established rules, thanks, and if you were going to be dumb enough to get close like that..." he trailed off, grinning at her. The expression was nothing if not 'untrustworthy'.
“God, I can’t believe I was about to show you Garfunkel and Oates just so I could win,” Mojo vented, “And yes, I named my tits after famous B-list musicians, and yes there were rules. This! Isn’t! Calvinball!” Again, a splash with every word before she swam back just a bit, reaching up to run both hands over her hair and slick it back. “And is this a smarter distance? Or do I need to be on matter of a different state?” she taunted with a rich grin of her own, something that really? Just encouraged the one she’d seen on Evan.
"Tickling is cheating, but showing me the girls wouldn't be?" Evan had to just crack up at that, splashing back at her since she was still doing it. He had to admit he was just a little disappointed that she hadn't done that, but still. She was just a little too funny with all of this at the moment. "It is Calvinball." he added. "So, you're going to have to deal with that. Shouldn't be too hard with titty names like those." he had to put in. He paused, eyeing her critically, as if trying to decide if she was far enough back to consider it 'smart'. Slowly, he started to reach out for her, more or less to see if she would immediately back farther off. "Guess we'll see..."
Almost immediately she seemed to adopt a warier expression, though Mojo couldn’t stop smiling over it all if her life depended on it. It was just fun, and seeing Evan lose himself in that fun seemed to double Mojo’s own enjoyment of it. “Dude? I can be out of this pool and running with your clothes so fast that you’ll be wondering how they got the cuffs on me in the first place,” Mojo mock-warned, “And yeah, I know you’ve got trunks on, but if I pull this off you’ll have to live with me rocking your threads around here and pulling them off way better.” Though, even with all of that? She didn’t retreat, just treading water in an unspoken dare.
Evan was aware that the sad part was probably the bit where he wasn't thinking about the consequences of her running off with his clothes. It was his mind getting distracted by the idea of him wandering around in his shirt. Why that would be hot, he didn't know, but he very abruptly decided that not only would it be, but he wanted to see that. Stop it. he told himself again, with the second reminder that he was in trouble.
It was just difficult to keep himself reserved and in check when he was having a genuinely good time. Maybe it was partially the alcohol, of which he'd had enough to loosen him up, or maybe it was just her. He didn't know. He did know that he wasn't allowed to be dwelling on those thoughts, though, with the wildly inappropriate of it all. "And that would be terrible for me? I'd live in a cocoon of woe, thinking about my clothes looking better on you? That's your plan?"
“Well, you’d have to explain it to other people too,” Mojo added with a faint note of self-deprecation, like it was dawning on her how this wasn’t really a threat. “I’m a cleaning lady, Evan, not a criminal mastermind! I guess I could steal the vodka too? Leave you here all mostly-sober and pruny? Speaking of...” she trailed, at last turning away from Evan to swim for the pool’s edge.
Maybe it was deliberate, too, how she half-climbed out to stretch across the pavement beyond the water, grabbing the bottle before slipping back in. And maybe it kept up with one elbow steadying her on the edge of the pool as Mojo tilted the bottle back for a pull of straight vodka, shivering as it ran through her. Maybe. “Could be that I’m just copping to losing four points here, and I don’t do that very gracefully. Seriously, I’m gonna wake up my neighbors when I put this on the scoreboard later.”
He watched. Even if he'd just been telling himself he needed to knock that shit off, he watched, and enjoyed the view. Swimming over, he noticed vaguely that the back of his right shoulder stung ever so slightly, and when he got to the edge of the pool with her, he glanced back at it. There was a scrape there, which he remembered he'd picked up from the bottom when she'd pushed him. "How many points do you lose for injuring the other player?" he asked, reaching out for the bottle so he could take a drink himself.
“Ten,” Mojo answered without skipping a beat, “Unless there’s a bottle of disinfectant immediately available, in which case you gain twelve. Citron works.” She handed the bottle over with a bright grin, cooling it for a moment to watch Evan. There were myriad changes in him right now, subtle ones that were just reaffirming to witness, and Mojo would’ve patted herself on the back if she didn’t think that’d spoil the moment. “You want me to spit some on that boo-boo or just pour?” she asked.
He laughed again, after probably a little too large a swallow of vodka. Or maybe there were two or three gulps in there. Setting the bottle back on the floor, he looked at her. "Neither. I'm a man. I have to just sit here, and stoically deal with the pain while I bleed." he deadpanned.
“While you attract sharks you mean?” Mojo balked, grabbing the bottle up from where Evan set it aside. “Dude, freshwater pool sharks are deadly, they’ll totally follow upstream into the toilets. You’re gonna get us both killed, so seriously now, lemme see,” she insisted, taking another quick swig before swimming around Evan to check the scrape.