Backlash III

[Jarod Nightingale] Emily hoped that a push would not break them. But depending on how you looked at it, Jarod either could not be broken or was already as broken as he could get. (It certainly seemed that way, anyhow.) At some point in his life, his emotional baggage had hit critical mass, and since then... he had changed surprisingly little. In ten years, and through countless dangers and discoveries, he had remained, more or less, the same person. More mature, and more experienced... but at the heart, the same. That he was able to take on a variety of moods and situations merely spoke to the complexity of his character.

But one's ability to survive trauma did not make one immune to its effects. Maybe he wouldn't break, but he could still feel pain (despite countless efforts to the contrary.) Talking, though? Was that traumatic? It rather depended upon what one decided to talk about, didn't it? Jarod let his hand fall back to the futon, and he remained perched as he had been, in that casual but slightly tense pose, as he listened to Emily and watched the hints of expression on her face.

They were of two different minds on this subject. Maybe that was a part of the problem. Emily spoke of the things they did not discuss, and for her, it was like treading carefully around the perimeter of a minefield. When Jarod heard this, he found it slightly... odd. That there was this elephant in the room, and only one of them had been aware of its existence. But that isn't to say that he didn't know that Emily was upset, because clearly... something was bothering her. Perhaps many things. And that was more than enough reason to tread carefully.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything, Emily. You're an adult, and you know your own mind. But if you want... if you need to talk, of course we can talk. I never asked you to keep things bottled up if they were bothering you. That's not healthy."

[Emily Littleton] She chuckled a little, and it was a lighter sound than he might have expected. Given the supposed pachyderms lingering in the already too-small space.

"Of course you didn't ask me to. You didn't have to ask me to. Not talking is what I do best," she rolled her eyes a little and smiled. It was an easy thing, slightly self-chastizing but honest. Emily shifted so she was sitting indian-style near him, instead of kneeling. "I don't usually stick around long enough to form talking relationships, and when I don't want to talk about something with Gregory -- who I occasionally tell important things -- then I simply don't pick up the phone."

Avoidance. It's what makes the world go 'round, in certain circumstances.

"I ... don't know what is or isn't healthy, or what we should or shouldn't talk about. That I'm still here, in Chicago, and nothing has called me away yet is almost... fascinating, on an academic level." She'd said at Christmas time that she was leaving, and there had been a sense of futility to it. She'd mentioned many times before that she was used to having to go, right when she'd started to form attachments. And yet, she was still here. An oddity. Intriguing. And utterly confusing.

She shrugged a bit, and let her hands rest in her lap. Her shoulders were rounded, now, and she slouched a little bit. Emily wasn't usually this lax about her posture, but it was possible that she was merely thoughtful.

"It's not that I want to tell you my whole life history -- which is not that interesting, and involves a lot of plane flights and endless car trips, dreadfully boring, I promise -- or that I need, necessarily, to tell you any particular thing. I just don't want to end up keeping things from you out of habit that maybe I shouldn't. And I don't know where that line is, or should be. I have no reference for it, and neither of us seem the type to ask, or push, or pester."

This was a good thing. She was not complaining. Instead, she was putting it out there, between them, as a thing to talk about. Just a thing noticed, remarked upon, and perhaps there would be no change to make. Perhaps it was perfectly fine just as it was.

Emily looked over at him, and she did not seem particularly uspet. She didn't not have a particular elephant to call out and parade between them. She'd had a long day, and she wore that weariness on her features. And something had set her to rambling, which happened when she was tired, or scared, or overly-thoughtful. But there was nothing overtly wrong, nothing too terribly aching in her eyes, nothing weighing down the corners of her mouth all that bitterly.

"What I do know," she said, raising one hand out of her lap and holding up her index finger. (One thing.) "Is that I don't like seeing you hurting. And that you are an amazing human being." This is said with a quiet sense of Reverence, not unlike her developing resonance. "That you, knowingly and willing, sacrificed of yourself to help another person, after everything you've alluded to that has happened in your past? That is amazing. And I'm not raising you up or thinking you the martyr in any way. Just that you've seen some dark places, and you still seek better than them. Without losing your sense of self, or making it some sort of crusade. That is something I could believe is worth Waking Up for."

She paused, looked down at her lap and smiled quietly. "And that is the sort of thing I shouldn't just let go, unsaid. You are truly remarkable," a small pause, and a wry smirk overtook her mouth again, "And occasionally insufferable," another pause, and she looked over out of the corner of her eye, "But don't let it go to your head, ne?"

[Jarod Nightingale] It's funny how someone with as much seeming ego as Jarod possessed could be made so suddenly and excruciatingly uncomfortable by a compliment. But that was the odd thing about Jarod: he seemed equally likely to praise or criticize himself in the same breath. Anyone who spent a lot of time with him eventually came to understand that neither of these was a matter of self esteem. He simply looked at himself with the same razor sharp gaze that he did everything else. But despite that, perspective still colored his point of view. Certain qualities were placed higher on the spectrum of achievement than others. And some... well, some were not qualities that he desired to share with the world at all.

And perhaps that was why, when Emily suddenly and completely against expectation began to praise him for qualities he would have never thought to associate with himself, his head tilted to one side, and one eyebrow cocked upright in an odd and curious expression. After she was done talking, he was... strangely silent. Then, finally, he gave a soft little laugh, which ached (of course), but not intolerably so. "Emily, I... think you're reading too much into things. I'm not a particularly nice person, nor am I ever likely to become so. The fact that I'm capable of doing things for others, on rare occasions, doesn't mean that I'm not ultimately selfish. It just means that I'm not a complete bastard. Or that I'm making a small sacrifice in order to gain something in return... which is frequently the case."

Though not always, but naturally he was more comfortable with the usual unsavory assumptions, because they were mostly true, and because in the world he lived in, self-sacrifice was a weakness. He didn't address her insinuations about the dark things he may or may not have seen, because that was a subject best left for... never. Shut down in his own head before he even had the time to think to reject it.

"The only think remarkable about me is that I'm still alive. And that I was born with exceedingly good genes."

[Jarod Nightingale] [Gah. Think=thing.]

[Emily Littleton] She regarded him quietly for a moment, and then closed her eyes and shook her head. Just once, back and forth, before opening her eyes again.

"Just take the compliment," she said, with a raised eyebrow of her own and unwavering bluntness. "I'm not putting you forward for sainthood, and I'm not saying that you're not an ass on occassion. But there's more to you than an incredibly attractive exterior and tenacity."

Then Emily sighed a bit, shifted and stretched a little. "And I had a truly awful evening being regaled by the gory details of how Dylan died. So forgive me if I'd rather highlight your finer qualities this evening, but I will not be dissuaded."

She settled again, and they were neatly stepping away from whatever topics she had alluded to. At the end, there, her tone was a little more light-hearted. She was digging her heels in, but almost playfully. Emily didn't flirt, but they occassionally sparred verbally. Maybe that was as close as she could get to playing his games.

[Jarod Nightingale] Neither of them were likely to bend on this matter, so... they would have to agree to disagree. Still, Jarod found Emily's tenacity in this regard a little endearing, and he smiled in spite of himself, if only to give credit where credit was due. For a brief moment there, she'd reminded him a little of Dana, which... well, that wasn't surprising. One had to possess a stubborn streak in order to deal with him for any prolonged length of time.

"You're right," he intoned dryly after she teased him. "I also have an amazingly talented tongue." And stated so matter-of-factly, he could have easily been touting the skill with which he mastered foreign languages, but since this was Jarod, after all... that was probably only one of many skills he was attributing to that body part.

"I regret that it won't be of any use to alleviate your anxiety, in this case." He sighed a little. "And I'm sorry... about your evening. Though in fairness... that sort of thing is likely to happen a lot. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I'd be lying, and I don't believe in padding the truth just to make it more palatable. I... did not have the greatest day either. Or, weekend, really. Bruised ribs make posing rather difficult."

[Emily Littleton] "There," she said, apparently pleased enough by his compromise to smirk and not argue the point with him further. It wasn't a clean victory, but it would suffice. For now. And he was smiling, which brought a warmer (quieter [reserved for a select few]) expression to her features.

"Ah, but you're here. And we're talking. And I feel better already," she said, when he lamented that his tongue (talented [quite]) wouldn't get put to good use tonight. She did, feel better that was. Perhaps not all better, or completely calm and relaxed. But things were better with him here, even if he was injured and they were both cantankerous in their own ways.

She winced when he mentioned modeling with his aches and pains. "Eesh. I'm surprised you worked like that," she said, but she wasn't really all that surprised. Jarod wasn't likely to let backlash slow him down in any measurable way. Tenacity had its price.

"I was out of commission for weeks," she said. And immediately thought the better of it. There was a little faulter, mostly imperceptible, when she realized her folly. Most people wouldn't notice it, or the way she glossed right over it to say "I hope you feel better soon," and smile gently. But Jarod was not most people, and they did not often tread so near hallmark sentiments, even when Emily was feeling particularly complimentary.

[Jarod Nightingale] "It'll get better. I'd have healed it myself already if I could, but paradox doesn't appreciate being ignored." Naturally, he brushed off her concerns. But since this was hardly the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, it seemed to him a matter barely worthy of note. "Anyway, it's not good to cancel when you agree to do something, in the fashion business. Very good way to lose a lot of future employment. Realistically speaking, I've probably only got a year or two left at this, so I need to take everything I can. Gaia forbid I have to give up the penthouse and move into a normal-sized apartment without a hot tub in the bathroom."

He was at least partially joking, there. Though it could be hard to tell, because he teased with such a dry tone most of the time, as if he thought that anyone not quick enough on the uptake to figure out for themselves what his intention was... simply didn't deserve to know.

"Or maybe I'll have to downgrade from the grand piano to an upright." But oh, that actually made him grimace a little in distaste, so this was probably not the first change he would make to his lifestyle, if indeed a decrease in funding was in the future. Then, because he hadn't missed her comment, and he knew full well that Emily had experienced the discomfort of injured ribs in the past, he paused and said, "A shame I wasn't there. When it happened to you. Multiple weeks is a long time to be out of commission."

[Emily Littleton] A shame I wasn't there.

Emily had a witty retort all lined up for that one, Jarod could see it cross her features and get just to the gateway of her teeth before it died and faded away. It took effort to still her tongue, to keep from putting up that fluent and fluid barrier of words and misdirection between them. She struggled with it, looking down and away, nodding softly.

She started to say something, but realized that it was likewise inappropriate and closed her mouth again. The only thing she could seem to settle on was, "Mmm. I suppose things might have been different, had I known you then."

"Have you given any thought to what you might do, when you're not modeling any more?" she asked. It was a casual question, just a curiosity. It shouldn't have held a slight quaver to it.

[Jarod Nightingale] Emily was better at avoiding her instincts than he was, in this regard. She bit back witty retorts in the effort to keep the conversation... more meaningful, perhaps. But Jarod was feeling surprisingly... at ease, after everything. And when he was comfortable, he tended to be a little playfully wicked. That may or may not have been an appealing quality, depending on one's point of view. What was made plain, however, was that he did not view it as inappropriate. Sometimes a distraction, sometimes merely a preoccupation. But then, he had nothing weighing on his mind, just now. (Well, nothing immediately applicable, in any case.)

Maybe he was too used to things like death and Marauders and pain, and the world being generally shitty.

"Suppose I could always go into the escort business. I know a woman in Beijing who keeps trying to tempt me into working for her." Again, his humor was understated here. Cool and aloof to the point where he might have actually been serious. But he destroyed his own disguise when he looked directly at Emily and let one corner of his mouth curl into a knowing smile. "Don't worry, I'll manage. I always do."

And that wasn't really an answer, but it was the most she was going to get.

[Emily Littleton] "Oh, I'm sure you will," she agreed readily, what might have been too readily if not for the equally knowing smile curling at her lips and the chuckle that followed her words. And then she seemed to give it some thought, and reasoned that Jarod could probably do fairly well for himself in that venue. So the cheeky expression shifted to something more thoughtful, on through mildly appraising.

"In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make your evening better? There's a scant few hours left for redeeming our weekends, but I'd like to return the favor," she offered, and it was likely the first time she'd asked him so openly what he'd want. (I want to give you something...). It sounded very quid pro quo, but there was far more warmth underlying it. Warmth and uncertainty because, as she'd said before, all of this was new to her on many levels.

[Jarod Nightingale] Be mindful of offering things to people who are known to be both selfish and manipulative. This particular situation was rather evocative of a mouse asking a cat if it wanted anything to eat.

Except that Emily was far from a mouse, and Jarod seemed remarkably disinclined to abuse his relationship with her, as he sometimes had in the past... with others. (One of whom Emily had met.) So while he probably could have come up with any number of witty or scandalous replies to that offer, instead he chose to take it at face value and simply shrugged, lightly. Then he eased himself back onto the futon, until his upper body was cushioned and he could relax the muscles that had been holding themselves so taut all evening.

"You had a terrible evening, and you're asking if you can do something.. for me?" Jarod chuckled gently as he gazed up at the ceiling. "Shouldn't this be the other way around?"

[Emily Littleton] "The man wants for nothing," she says, feigning (mostly) exasperation and looking up at something beyond the ceiling as if to say, I told you he was difficult to an unnamed party. But the smile on Emily's mouth was still affectionately warm.

"Yours wasn't stellar either, from what you've said," she chided gently (your obstinance is showing). "And you drove across town to see me." Putting the tally of good deeds done clearly on his side. Besides, one of these days doing something nice for someone else was going to be as rewarding as Emily remembered it could be... and wouldn't leave her holding the tatters of her sanity in her hands.

Emily felt the muscles in her core unclench a little when he finally laid down. Her muscle memory for some aches was unfairly clear at times. She shifted to bring the edge of her leg against his. Touching, but not in a way that would upset his aching torso. There was something about being close enough to touch him that made most things better.

[Jarod Nightingale] "Oh, I want for plenty of things. But most of them involve my direct participation. And sadly, the universe has decided that I'm supposed to be boring and mortal this weekend, all because an overly cocky tradition-mate decided she could take on a marauder almost entirely by herself. Frankly I'm not sure what annoys me more, the fact that I had to go save her, or the fact that she succeeded at something I failed at."

That was a surprisingly honest utterance, especially for him. Maybe he was letting himself get just a little too relaxed. Still, once he'd said it, he made no attempt to take it back. Once one chose a path, it was best not to bother contemplating regrets.

"She got very lucky."

(Alice could be dead right now. And then he'd have that on his conscience as well. If indeed he even had one.)

A moment of brooding, but it passed when Emily's leg touched his. Surprising, how easily he was stilled by such things. Being touched tended to draw his focus, in whatever form that contact came in. He rolled his head to one side, and his eyes flickered down to their knees for a moment, then back up to Emily's face. He pursed his lips together thoughtfully, then released them. One of his hands found its way to her thigh, and brushed the backs of fingers lightly against the side. It was a familiar touch, and one that happened more out of instinct than anything else.

[Emily Littleton] "Probably a little of both," she offered, helpfully. It was precisely the brand of helpfulness that didn't feel particularly useful, but Emily managed it without being too abrasive. Likely because Jarod himself was rather pragmatic about observations, most of the time.

"If it helps, it doesn't sound like she did it alone. Ashley and Wharil were there, and three, maybe four, others. At least two people shot at him, after Alice had been injured."

Emily reported this somewhat impassively, pulling the pertinent details out of what Nathan had told her earlier that night. She also shifted, bringing more of the length of her leg along his, resting her hand on the inner edge of his knee. It was habit for them, falling into the closeness of physical contact. Her eyes didn't focus on him while she spoke, but they softened somewhat when his fingers grazed her leg.

[Emily Littleton] After a long pause, Emily's brow furrowed for a moment. Thoughtful. Followed by a quiet (gruesome) epiphany. She added:

"Oh, and also a shotgun." Beat. Barely time to draw a little breath. "Maybe that was Ashton...?" she added, chewing on her lip a bit as she considered that last bit.

[Jarod Nightingale] Jarod's response to all of this was to make a small, noncommittal sound somewhere between his throat and his chest.

"Doesn't really matter. It's over now, and we can all go back to waiting for the next big disaster."

And sadly, that was pretty much the way that it worked, for them. Still, the urge to complain had waxed and waned, and now Jarod was content merely to lie there in the comfortable glow of Emily's proximity. And maybe they'd keep talking, or maybe one or the other of them would fall asleep at some point. Eventually Jarod would rouse himself and go back to his own apartment, but not for awhile yet.