@deathshalo asked : “you’ll be even worse off if you don’t let me bandage this.”
SENTENCE MEME ╱ CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES.
tw : mild blood / injury, mentions of a car accident.
── “ yeah, yeah. ” jace sounds disinterested, leans his head back and exhales deeply. he can’t quite tell if mazzie is simply frustrated with his fidgeting, or annoyed that he’s found him at ALL, especially in a state like this. he must be a sight, he thinks, probably appears far worse than he’s feeling--- it’d been lucky that it was dark out on his way to headquarters, easy to hide himself from stranger’s stares in the dark. the heels of his hands are raw from catching concrete, there’s a new bruise aching across his temple, and he’s bloody all along his lefthand side. it makes sense that he’d look like a fucking car wreck. some exasperation from mazzie about that fact is only fair.
he hadn’t expected to see anyone there at all, not so late. when mazzie had called out after he’d let himself inside, jace had nearly jumped at the interruption. he’d answered his what the fuck happened vaguely, with a nothing, just some trouble, as if that was anything. apparently, though, the other knows better than to expect more of a clarification, as he hasn’t yet pressed further. jace prefers it that way ; he doesn’t have much to say about any of it. it hadn’t even been an interesting sort of chaos, mostly just predictable, him evading some pissed-off pursuers with a halfhearted excitement. they hadn’t been terribly good drivers, and so he was playing into them for the sake of his own interest, acting as some lure instead of just making a run for it. so, really, it was HIS fault that it’d all come to this.
the crash itself hadn’t been bad--- one of the cars that’d come to chase him had unexpectedly cut him off at a blind corner, him not paying enough attention amongst his showboating. in his swerve to avoid the collision, he instead found the nose of his ride cracking into the alley wall. the worst he’d gotten at the moment was some whiplash and a ringing in his ears, yet in his clamber to get out of the then-useless body of the car, he’d faltered, STUMBLED. there was glass from somewhere, the car or the window he’d broken, and he’d slipped into it as he’d gone, feeling the shallow slice of it up his arm and shoulder as he’d fallen to the ground.
he’d vanished after that, of course, dropping any of his previous flaunting as he darted away into dark corners. coming by the headquarters next wasn’t even much of a decision, jace simply finding himself on the street before he could talk himself into anything else. it was a secure place to land for a moment, at least. the furthest he’d planned was maybe a change of shirt and some time to sleep it all OFF, perhaps a shower and some food in the morning. but mazzie apparently had other ideas after appearing and getting a look at him, sitting him down and refusing jace’s protests.
“ it’s fine. seen worse, really. ” he tries, flinching back from mazzie again as he touches at a particularly RAW bit of skin. “ you don’t have to do--- all that. ” the other says nothing, however, doesn’t even look up to meet jace’s eyeline, and so he sighs. he’s exhausted, and he’s dizzy, and his skin feels like it’s catching fire in bright lines down his arm, a burn that’s surely biting down to his bones the more mazzie touches at him with cotton and alcohol. his thoughts are hazy, slightly, tired or just shaken from the chaos of the evening--- maybe a light concussion, if he’s feeling pessimistic ---and he closes his eyes to help quiet it for a moment, brow furrowed. the room is too bright, anyway.
they’re both silent for a while, mazzie working and jace just breathing, neither of them asking each other any of the questions they likely want to. jace doesn’t know why mazzie’s there at all, can’t question it without an answer being expected of himself, too, so he leaves it be. there’s some sharp slip of glass that’s apparently still left in jace’s arm, a tiny corner of it he hadn’t noticed until mazzie accidentally catches at it, makes him JOLT. instinctively, jace snatches at him with his other hand, grabs hold of his wrist to still his movements. the sound of his own voice surprises him when he curses, warns him to be fucking careful. after a beat of quiet between them, mazzie says his name, once, and jace isn’t sure what to make of his tone.
opening his eyes, he focuses where his hand is still around mazzie’s wrist, thumb at his pulse point, then takes the pause as a chance to get a good look at him for the first time since his arrival. mazzie won’t make eye contact, clears his throat through the silence, seems uncertain in the moment. suddenly does jace grin, as if they’ve both done this a THOUSAND times, his second of irritation instantly dropped as he grows amused. “ hey, ” he speaks like he’s teasing, keeps looking him over like he’s figuring something out, “ you worried about me, maz ? ”
mazzie still won’t say anything, at least not yet. jace drops his grip so the other can continue busying himself with gauze, smirks at him while he observes, now thoroughly indifferent to the discomfort along his arm. “ it’s alright. i won’t tell anybody, if you are. ” jace continues, lowers his voice, plays it like a secret. maybe it’s not the best idea to taunt mazzie in a vulnerable place like this, his own blood on his hands, but jace can’t HELP himself. the moment is an otherwise precarious one, and all he wants to do is offset it, balance it back again into something familiar. mazzie scoffs, tells him to shut up, and jace laughs ; it’s the best he knows to do.
@prvntcessa asked : “ do you regret letting me close ?” 🍻
🍻 ╱ DRUNKEN CONFESSION.
── it’s not often mischa can convince jace to join her in a drink or two. usually he’ll call himself the designated driver and watch others get uninhibited around him, occasionally steering them into some poor choices for his own amusement or dragging them from situations when it goes too far. he’s in a good mood, though, and when she’d brought out a bottle he had no real reason to turn it away. it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the vodka mischa’d chosen was teeth-bitingly strong, and his tolerance isn’t the highest regardless, and so it’s only taken a few drinks for him to feel BLURRY. not blackout, the kind of flat-out drunk he only chases when he needs to be out of his own head, just hazy and warm and less filtered than usual.
the rest of the scene around them has quieted, the street nearly empty as the rest of the drivers had all darted off in various directions after the finish line. he’s still somewhat caught in his own adrenaline, drunk on the win and the liquor and the evening as a whole, drumming lightly on the side of that night’s car in time with the radio playing past the open windows. mischa’s sat herself on the hood and jace leans next to her, passing the bottle back to her after she asks, smiling as if he hasn’t just been caught so OFF-GUARD. “ oh, are we close ? ”
jace laughs--- if he shakes it off like a joke maybe they can act like mischa didn’t ask, or that it doesn’t matter she did, and they can drink right past it as if it hadn’t happened at all. it’s out of character for her, for both of them, such directness where they often would say nothing at all, and he’s not sure how he’s meant to respond. his reflexive answer isn’t a REAL question, not really, surely they both know. they’re close, of course they are. they’re close, and it’s too much. they’re close, and that’s the PROBLEM.
“ c’mon, of course not. ” he shrugs, says it easily like it’s effortless, motions for her to hand the vodka back. it’s a deflective answer, but he doesn’t know what else he trusts himself with saying. “ why, do you ? ” her question makes much more sense when it’s turned on herself, jace thinks. she’s given him no reasons to regret her, compared to the THOUSANDS he’s shown her--- every time he misses a chance, or leaves when she asks him not to, or stays gone afterwards. eventually, he assumes she’ll run out of patience with him ; he’ll understand, whenever it happens. there’s only so much testing he can do, so much pushing, before something breaks for good, in a way not even he can smooth back over. maybe she already regrets it, that’s why she asked. he shakes his head, takes a drink.
neither of them say anything for a moment, jace looking at her in an unfocused sort of way, foggy around the borders of his vision. suddenly is he aware of how still the place has gotten, a few tire marks along the pavement the only remnants of the crowd that’d been around them earlier, nothing else to distract his attention but mischa sitting beside him. the music from inside the car is doing little to offset the quiet, and he has a hard time placing it as real, anyway--- like the soundtrack to a movie, external and displaced. it feels like he’s watching something from the OUTSIDE, an observer on a scene he doesn’t know, as if waiting in to see how his reactions unfold instead of recognizing them as his own.
shifting where he stands, jace clears his throat, sets the bottle on the car hood decisively, cutting himself off. his weak inhibitions already do little to help him, and they’re even more useless when he’s drunk ; better not to invite this kind of trouble. it’s not the sort he’s well versed in. stepping back from the car, he motions for mischa to follow. gesturing to her, he makes himself a LIFELINE from the sudden weight of the conversation, both with his outstretched hand and his sudden continuation--- “ hey, you know what ? let’s walk, or something. ” he grins, again, like everything’s the same as it always is, trying to sort through his tipsy thoughts to place the closest 24/7 diner. “ i’m in the mood for a burger. ”
@agentwang asked : ‘you know i have feelings for you.’
SENTENCE MEME ╱ SOFT ANGST.
── jace can’t get his head around any of it. something’s been strange about ivy, lately, a change in her presence that he doesn’t know how to handle, and it’s at its most obvious now. when he’d shown up at her door, he hadn’t been bracing himself for much conversation at ALL, let alone anything with weight, and so now it’s caught him off guard. for once he’s quiet, biting the inside of his lip as waits, uncertain how he’s meant to respond, what either of them are meant to do about it. they’re not supposed to be like this. they’re not supposed to be anything--- that’s the whole point of it.
he doesn’t even understand what’s prompted any of this, really, some argument sparking between them after he’d arrived and ivy unexpectedly cutting into it with that--- all he can do is let the aftermath of it sit uneasily between them. ivy seems angry, but not in a way he recognizes as well on her. it’s different, not the kind he’ll enjoy picking at, trying to worsen for the sake of watching her exasperation. being around ivy is often like willingly setting themselves both on fire, and yet here’s she’s a quieter kind of frustrated ; PRECARIOUS, still, but like glass instead of gasoline. if he moves too quickly something will break.
“ no, you don’t. ” jace exhales it like a laugh, almost, a humorless one, a knee-jerk reaction that he shrugs off as soon as it comes. restlessly, he moves to rub at the back of his neck, as if holding himself STILL, like it’ll help him better get a grip on the situation. there’s that pang in his chest, his hands, the kind he knows, the one that tells him to run before anything around him can matter. surely he’ll humor it soon, he always does, yet for a moment he just hovers, shakes his head again. “ you’re lonely, and i’m--- around. ”
he’s glad there’s still some space between them, her sat on the edge of the bed and him a few paces back ; it’s a little more SURREAL this way, when he isn’t touched, less tangible. “ you barely even have to know me. i’m just whoever. sometimes i show up, sometimes i don’t. it’s easy. ” it’s easy. jace knows himself well enough to tell that he’s not built for anything more than they’ve already got--- what he thought of it ---a disconnected sort of carelessness where, for her, he doesn’t need to be ANYONE at all. ivy never expects him to say anything right, or act like more than he is, or stay at all. it’s a separation in which he’s comfortable. she’s never asked him to be known.
shifting where he stands, jace looks to her finally, shrugs as he continues. “ i’m low stakes. ” part of him wants to ask, why she’d say it or think it or entertain the possibility at all--- she’s BETTER than this, he knows that. that’s exactly what’s always gotten to him. “ you just--- you don’t. ” he repeats, a reaffirmation, tired and exasperated as he drops his hand from his neck to gesture in her direction. that urge to bolt is hitting harder, getting heavier in his body the more he speaks, he thinks he might be crushed under the weight if he doesn’t GIVE IN to it soon.
@deathshalo asked : ✉️ – an angry note, a worried note
✉️ ╱ NOTE STARTERS.
── angry note, left on a notepad on the bedside table in mazzie’s hotel room :
next time you get fucking wasted and need a ride, maybe call someone else. i don’t know what the fuck you were talking about in the car or why you only ever get this confusing when you’re drunk, but tell it to somebody who’s not me. also, i want my jacket back when you’re sober. good luck with your hangover.
── worried note, left written on the back of a junk mail envelope, stuck with a magnet to mazzie’s fridge :
came by a couple times and doesn’t look like you’ve been here. hope everything’s okay, not sure where you’ve been. even ivy hasn’t heard from you--- yes, i actually asked her something, and now she won’t let me live it down, so fuck you for that. wrote my number below, should have this phone for a little longer. text me or something.
p.s. sorry i broke in. wanted to see if you’d been by.
── he doesn’t know what’s wrong. doesn’t know how to ask, either. something about her seems OFF, more muted than she usually is, demeanor clearly dampened by whatever it was that’d had her texting him to come get her at well past midnight. they’ve both come to lean on the hood of that evening’s car, a low-profile toyota with paint chipping around the seams of it for jace to pick at, occupying his restless hands. thea is quiet, has been for the time its taken to get from her place to here, and there’s not much around to break up the silence.
the convenience store parking lot is near abandoned, the two of them standing in a circle of half-burnt overhead light with everything else dark and still around them. it’d been the best he’d had to offer when he’d picked her up, a run for snacks and cigarettes and some time away from everything else, yet now in the middle of it he doesn’t know what to do with himself. jace is terrible with a STILLNESS like this one.
“ you alright ? ” he ventures, because he should, though neither of them make much attempt to look at each other. she shrugs, and he doesn’t press further ; he wouldn’t know what to ask, anyway. uncertainly, jace reaches to touch the back of her forearm, a pointless sort of contact that’s meant to be a reassurance. they wait there, for a second, paused in place with the tentative connection between them. it’s about the best he’s got, and more than he’d USUALLY give, but thea tries with him so it’s only fair he tries in return.
“ let’s not talk about it. come on. ” jace pats her arm once, pulls away. reaching to fish in the plastic bag beside him, he shoves past chips and gum and tiny bottles of liquor to find the pack of cigarettes, holding it in thea’s direction. she doesn’t say anything, looks at him with a brow raised, and so he flips the top of the carton himself to make the invitation unmistakable. she’s directly threatened him over the confidentiality of her shame-smokes before, demanded he never tell, and it’s a secret he can keep. it’s not as if he can JUDGE, either ; his self-destructions are a lot more frequent and a lot more volatile than a bit of ill-advised stress relief every now and then. he’s happy to help her indulge some vices, she could certainly use it.
he’s grown fairly used to this, by now. they’ve struck some sort of equilibrium, unspoken--- thea is their good influence and jace their bad, and between the two of them it BALANCES. it’s mutually beneficial, he thinks. she seems so pent up, sometimes, stubborn in a way that even rivals him, and she could do with some release. he can see it now, the tightness in her jaw and her hands. he touches her arm again, more purposeful this time, nudges her in an attempt to shake her tension loose. “ i won’t tell anyone. ”
CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES. for when the person you’re trying to care for insists they don’t need your help.
“at least let me clean the wound!”
“you’ll be even worse off if you don’t let me bandage this.”
“i really think you need to see a doctor.”
“i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.”
“your feelings matter too! i can’t help you if i don’t even know what’s making you upset!”
“..i’m here if you need anything, okay?”
“stop trying to push yourself! you can’t do this on your own!”
“listen, i know you don’t want to, but.. maybe you should rest for a while. you’re not going to get anywhere like this.”
“i’ll make you a deal: i’ll just get you some bandages, and nothing else, and you stop making a fuss over it.”
“how long has it last been since you slept?”
“have you even been taking your medicine?”
“i know you think you have to get through this by yourself, but you have people here to help you.”
“let me take care of you, for once.”
“you’re gonna hurt yourself even more if you do stupid things like that!”
“i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.”
“it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.”
“stop trying to act like you’re not bleeding out in front of me!! this is serious!”
“listen, asshole. i’m gonna carry you home whether you like it or not. you’re not in any condition to get there yourself.”
“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?!”
michelangelo. what a stupid fucking name. percy had disappeared into his room almost immediately after reading the note, desperate to release. within a matter of seconds, all of the important files he had lined along his desk were slowly floating down to the ground, an awkwardly slow force juxtaposed against his instant rage. the angsty return to his room didn’t last long, however, for he practically ran back into the common room with a briefcase he had once stolen from the fbi.
he slammed it down on the table, hard. not because it belonged there, but because he wanted to make a point. “i’m going to need to talk to all of you, one by one.” he didn’t put much effort into reading the room; he could barely focus his gaze on one person for more than five seconds. for all he knew, they could have been at each other’s throats already. percy didn’t even think of consulting with erica beforehand. he never really thought of that, come to think of it. “who’s first ? ”
── he doesn’t want to think about it. so long has jace been blindly enjoying the HIGHS of the heists that he hasn’t much considered the possibility of it all going south--- or perhaps he just hasn’t wanted to, purposefully skirting around the idea whenever it’d itch at him so as better sleep at night. the falsity of the diamond doesn’t bother him much, the majority of it’s value to him came from acquiring it and he’s lost interest now that it’s theirs, but the note is not so easy to ignore. hungry dogs are never loyal.
jace is well-practiced at covering up any uncertainty, however, so he’s had little reaction to the situation so far. the same cannot be said for percy, and jace is somewhat glad for the DISTRACTION from the issue at hand as he watches the other stomp and steam his way out of and back into the room. “ slow down, there, captain. ” he starts, a brow raised at the scene. jace is rarely eager for one-on-one conversation, and this invitation is about as unwelcome as anything. “ what exactly are we volunteering for, here ? am i about to get waterboarded ? ”
✺ ╱ MY MUSE PROTECTING YOURS FROM A SLEAZE AT THE CLUB.
── jace never knows what to do with himself alone at a club. everyone always crowds in to vie for a dance or a drink, neither of which he particularly cares for, and so often he just finds himself floating, scanning the crowd for something or someone of INTEREST. places such as these are too crowded for his taste, the wrong sort of chaos, and usually he’ll excuse himself after a few minutes of mingling for something better. that night, however, he isn’t so aimless ; keeping his chin craned up to look over the crowd, like holding his head above the water of a flood, he searches for mischa.
it’s meant to be a surprise. it’s been a few weeks since he’s seen her last, after chasing some whim off and following that impulse for LONGER than intended. upon finding his way back to familiarity, he’d set himself to the bratva house, boris greeting him with a curious sort of expression about him that jace has never been able to read--- either the man wants him dead or had an odd sort of affection for him. maybe both. regardless, he’d somewhat hesitantly informed jace as to where mischa had vanished for the evening, sending him off towards the club. he’s uncertain whether his sudden, unexpected appearance will be welcomed or feel to be an ambush, though it’s too late to change his mind. he’s already seen her across the space.
she isn’t terribly hard to spot, all bright pinks burning in the flashing lights of the room, and while he grins at the recognition, his expression quickly falls again when he notices the presence hanging around her. mischa’s back is still to him so he approaches unseen, watching while some guy leans in to whisper something to her, resting a hand on her hip in an obvious attempt to pull her in closer. there’s NOTHING subtle about it ; his attention is painfully unwarranted, her shifting away and him taking the space as an invitation to move in further.
it doesn’t take much for jace to slip into some familiar facade--- they’ve played this game before, to get each other out of trouble, or to make themselves seem like they belonged somewhere they didn’t, or out of some strangely-placed jealousy that they wouldn’t talk about after. he doesn’t think twice before coming in beside her, blatantly blocking the other guy out as he approaches, BREAKING the contact between the two of them as he places himself amidst them. “ hey, you. ” he greets, leans slightly down so she can hear him over the thrum of the music, “ you miss me ? ”
he’ll overthink the unintentional weight of that question later. for now, he glances up as if noticing the other man for the first time, looking him up and down with apparent DISINTEREST. pointedly, he moves his hand to rest low on mischa’s back, watching the other with a confused sort of expression, a look like jace is in disbelief that he’s still there. “ thanks for hanging out, man. ” he addresses him, tone clipped and dry, the end of a conversation before the guy has the chance to start one. “ you wanna fuck off now ? ”
there’s a second more of the guy regarding them both before he seems to concede, scoffs and throws some DISMISSIVE comment, enough to make jace briefly frown. as he passes back towards the bar, jace makes a point to knock his shoulder slightly with his own, a purposeful bump to conceal his free hand slipping into the other’s coat pocket. a stolen pair of keys feels like a worthwhile bit of retribution for whatever skeevy things he’d certainly been trying to sell mischa. jace is simply evening the score.
as soon as the man disappears jace drops his touch from mischa, turns to grin at her like it’s all been PLANNED, as if he hasn’t appeared from thin air. he offers no explanation, though he doubts she realistically expects one--- mischa knows him better than that. “ this really where you’re spending time when i’m not around ? this place sucks. ”
he looks to the keys tucked into his palm, squinting through the haze of the room before holding them up for her to see, the showing off of a trophy. “ want to get out of here ? looks like jackass drives a fucking prius, but it’s probably still good for SOMETHING. ” jace has no intention of staying where he is, packed in while a crowd gets drunk around him, waiting out the time while a perfectly good evening goes to waste. he’d rather not leave by himself, though, and so he smiles to her, shakes the keys slightly in emphasis, prideful. “ bet we can find anything better to do. ”
MAZZIE DOESN’T CARE FOR CHALLENGES ; he doesn’t care if someone sees him as unintelligent or weak because he doesn’t play along . he doesn’t waste his time playing the ‘ antagonizing game ’ back and forth when he can be doing something much more productive . he should probably get up and walk away like he usually would after a comment like that , but he only rolls his eyes . he’s a little annoyed at being interrupted from his reading , especially by someone he thought wouldn’t go to the trouble of talking to him — it’s not that they don’t ever speak to each other , but it’s usually just a few muttered words before they leave each other alone ; they’re not friends , they’re not enemies , and they shouldn’t pretend to be either — but what the hell ?
his nose scrunches up in a look of disgust , but the twitchy start of a smirk suggests he feels otherwise . he scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest , keeping his eyes on the book still open in his lap . he isn’t sure , for a few moments , whether he should bother to give a reply . he really doesn’t like playing any games other than chess , and even then , he doesn’t have to wrack his brain for a reply that wouldn’t completely rid him of his dignity . although , he hasn’t cared about being worthy of honor or respect for quite some time , so he decides to open his mouth and side - eye the runaway driver after little more thought .
“ it’s not stealing if you don’t get caught . if you’re a good enough liar , you can pretend to be a paying guest . ” the smirk rises without conscious volition , a stark contrast to the little to no emotion in his voice , but he’s able to quickly force it back down to a neutral expression . he still REFUSES to look up , but he watches jace from his peripheral more than he tries to focus back on reading . he tries to beat down the part of him that actually cares about this ridiculous conversation and how jace reacts , how he’s talking to mazzie like this at all when they usually barely acknowledge each other , if AT ALL .
it doesn’t work out so well , and he finally looks up .
“ ‘you really wanna talk about stealing from hotel buffets ? you’re even shittier at human interaction that i am . ” he can’t stop the words from pouring out , a means to try and get jace away from him even though he honestly doesn’t mind his presence anymore . jace is usually just a GHOST , and maybe it irks mazzie , but at least he doesn’t have to try to be human around him . now is different , and mazzie’s never really liked a difference in his ( mostly ) small - talk - casual - socializing - free routine .
── part of him had expected mazzie to excuse himself the moment jace had opened his mouth. he doesn’t know WHY he’s started the conversation, exactly, though that isn’t rare ; often his decisions are a surprise to himself, chasing reactions instead of dwelling on intentions. it’s just uncertain what result he hopes for, now. an understanding, perhaps. a hint to his thinking. mazzie is difficult to decipher, only ever responding to him in slight shifts of expression or tone, and jace is no good with subtleties.
jace is an unknown, happily so, though can’t say the same for most anyone else. he prefers the variable in his life to be himself, mysteries often enjoyed when he’s the one who knows the answer, can toy with it for his own amusement. and yet he doesn’t GET mazzie, why he’s doing what he does. when they’re both at his place, he moves around jace like he’s more tangible than he is, careful not to draw attention while still painfully aware of the presence, a rock in the river that he makes a current around. like if mazzie doesn’t look at him for too long, or speak between them, he can pretend he’s not there. for the most part, jace benefits from such handling, makes it easy for him to enter and exit as he pleases without consequence. but he doesn’t know what mazzie gets out of it. he knows well, by now, how things work--- the world is a push-and-pull of debts and repayment, and surely mazzie wants something in return. jace has just yet to discover what that MOTIVE is.
in something of a surprise, mazzie gives, slightly, at least offers an answer to jace’s digressing instead of ignoring him outright. he shrugs like it’s all commonplace, pauses as if giving himself time to think the comment over. “ mm, i guess. but i say it’s not stealing if i want something more than they do, caught or not. that’s just--- making things FAIR. ” this isn’t a new ideology for him, and yet jace smiles, an act like he’s confessed something. “ and i’m a great liar, in case you were wondering. but it’s less effort to just take stuff. ” for emphasis, he points the last bit of bagel in mazzie’s direction, making an example of it before finishing it off.
for the most part, mazzie has been keeping his attention on the book before him, and so it catches jace off guard to suddenly have him look up at him. they don’t do this often, he thinks, acknowledge each other head-on. repeatedly appearing at the other’s door has made jace REALER in that space than he’s comfortable with, sometimes, and so he can appreciate the fact that mazzie won’t often look at him--- makes it easier to stomach. he shifts, slightly, movement of weight to find a new point of balance where he’s leaning against the doorframe. he shoves any uncertainty away, however, grins at mazzie’s comment ; this, he can handle. “ not true. if i say anything at all, i’m pretty sure i’m automatically better at human interaction than you are. didn’t expect you to have such high standards for conversation, though. ”
