Joel St. James | Raistlin Majere (imagus) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-03-27 18:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | jillian st. james, joel st. james |
Who: Joel and Jillian Jay
What: Joel frantically trying to convince Jay that he really is her twin.
When: An hour after this.
Where: A Starbucks in Providence, RI
Warnings: Angst, and probably bad language from Joel.
Joel would have thought that, with Jillian missing, his parents would turn more smothering and start keeping a close eye on him. Maybe he should be insulted that they weren't, but he was just glad that their distraction meant he could do pretty much anything he wanted to. Not that they would have stopped him from going to that kegger - okay, maybe if they knew what it was, but all he'd said was "a party" - before Jillian vanished, but whatever. At least they were giving him his space.
Still, he'd have thought they'd ask more questions when he grabbed a couple of the family photo albums on his way out the door to get coffee. Instead, they just gave him that sad look they always had on their faces around him and told him not to drink too much coffee because "you know how you get." Whatever, he wasn't that bad. Except for the way you bounce around like a barrell full of Kender when you have more than two cups, Raistlin whispered inside his head. Which you shall not be doing. Ugh, it was like having another parent around all the time. Were you unfortunate enough to be my child, you would have been sold to a peddler long ago. Please do not continue that terrifying thought.
Okay, so, bitchy mages aside, Joel was feeling pretty good about this. Really. There was no way that Jillian could see him face to face and not recognize him. No way at all. She'd know him, and then they'd look through the photo albums and she'd start getting back her memory and they could go home and his mom wouldn't cry when she thought he couldn't hear every night. Yeah, that was exactly how it would go. No other option.
Without thinking, he placed his and Jillian's usual order and headed for their usual table once he reached Starbucks. The photo albums he put on an extra chair, and he positioned himself to watch the door. That feeling in his stomach wasn't nerves, and that tightness in his throat wasn't emotion. Everything would be just fine.