ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ, @jamiezaal - Tumblr Blog

( michiel huisman , 42 , cis man , he/his ) wait , did you just see who got off the london eye? i swear , it was JAMIE ZAAL. how do you not know them? i hear they’re affiliated with the THE HANDS as an ASSOCIATE (CLEANER) but what can you believe these days. most know them as a GUEST LECTURER at IMPERIAL COLLEGE SCHOOL OF MEDICINE with a reputation of being CONCISE + DISCONNECTED. i guess we’ll find out who they really are and why they hum the lyrics to CAPSIZE by BIG BLACK DELTA in public soon enough.

#divide : intro #mental health tw #tw mental health #injuries tw #tw injuries

rcklssfm·:

“Just have to be good at it.” By the looks of it, the bartender knew exactly what she was doing with every minute of her time and the star patron on the other side of the bar did too. The permanent smirk he wore on his mouth was only part of the arrogance that radiated off of him like he owned the whole damn place. For all Gus knew, maybe he did. Tonight wasn’t work and he wasn’t going to let that change. Not unless the man to his side had anything to offer or if by some chance, the bartender’s undivided attention shifted elsewhere. After all, who heard more shit than a bartender?

Bottom lip was caught between teeth as he focused on every word that fell too smoothly from the other’s mouth. The journalist couldn’t even blame the woman for her interest. Between himself and the fake watching wearing male, the latter seemed like the better bet for the bigger tip. “Looks like money talks too.” They’d swiped a whole bottle and yet, the woman couldn’t even be bothered to bat an eye in their direction. If he weren’t a halfway honest man, he could have taken more than a single bottle of mediocre whiskey. “Free drink plus no need for a tip. It just might be your lucky night, Jamie.” Even if the bartender wasn’t doing her job, it wasn’t a wasted trip by any means at all. With whiskey stained lips and a smile, Gus angled himself towards the other. “It’s good to meet you. No problem about the drink. Not the first time I’ve swiped a bottle. Probably won’t be the last either.”

-

“ that’s the entertaining quandry, isn’t it? he’s out here performing like a peacock, but will he satisfy when he gets her home? or her, for that matter? nobody likes a pillow princess. ” it was like a little performance just for he and gus - the way they watched and critiqued. it might as well have been a snippet from a soap opera, though jamie didn’t indulge in such things. this was amusing ---someone else’s commentary, as if shedding a light on the moment that he otherwise wouldn’t have considered or commented on. lips pursed when the bartender laughed - something dramatic and overly flirtatious, and jamie broke his gaze to swallow his whiskey in one shoot.

“ the one truth in this world, that: money talks. ” he could pretend he would have given her a larger then necessary tip if she actually had done her job, but jamie only put on that particular performance when there was something to gain. while drinking was the goal, it was attainable in any watering hole around london. if he needed something from her, information or the ilk, that was a different story. he’d let it hang in the air that yes - fake rolex was a better bet. nothing like the very real patek philippe on his own wrist, hidden just beneath the cuff. it didn’t matter. “ it might just be my lucky night, you’re very right. now, if only i could translate that luck into all aspects of my life, hm? ” a sentiment most people felt, he was sure. he’d done quite well for himself, though. very few people in the world could admit that they genuinely liked their job - or that they were very good at it as well. jamie had that. it just wasn’t something he could brag about, if he were the type.

“ do you find yourself in situations where you have to swipe bottles regularly, then? ” he easily shifted to open the conversation, to bounce it more back to his new drinking friend than to keep it anywhere on himself. people liked to speak about themselves, it was easy - and jamie could be very good at listening. “ and it’s good to meet you as well. ”

#iii. interactions #rcklssfm #rcklssfm 1 #rcklssfm: augustus #rcklssfm: augustus 1

reaporter:

CELINE LOOKS LIKE HER FATHER IN THE LOW LIGHT. it’s got nothing to do with familial resemblance, but rather, an assessment of where she inherited her wickedness. filth teaches filth. it was her birthright — how long until the circle was broken? she’s like her father in all the ways most women are, she took all the broken pieces of the man she was made to adore and made them her own. all the loud and terrible things from her childhood still lingered. what was to be made of a woman perpetually stuck in the past? two rotten people sat across from each other, indulging a charade. there is no lack of couth here. not when celine had the entirety of her life to get used to her own silences; she had. there’s no disquiet when the silence falls, or weightless attempts thrown into the void of meaningless conversation. rather, celine basks in the quiet — takes a moment to observe his movements and the trim of his blazer before drawing a mouthful of sauvignon. wine glass is inert, pinched between her two digits and her thumb. “ whatever the reason, they’ve made it this far. ” there’s a beat, as if to turn the thought over in her mind before bothering to verbalize it. “ how long do you think that will last — until they’re vetted. ” emerald gaze meets his own and whatever souls were made of, they were one of the same. these occasions were brief indulgences : feeding into each other’s rotten impulses. “ i’m aware, ” it was the same negligence that took celine’s daughter from her. “ i don’t see how you can stand it. but then again — ” after all, someone else’s ignorance could be your bliss if you were willing, but incompetence is a nonfactor when no one is willing to outwardly dispute you. “ life is much sweeter when you can appear a cut above the rest, isn’t it? ”

-

two wolves wearing human suits. or perhaps two machines dressed up to appear more human than not, he often wondered if there were squishy innards within his own body, should he ever get to see the insides. their parts weren’t quite the same ---whatever factory defects jamie came with were certainly different from those celine bore, and if he lingered long on the thought he’d wonder if hers were from youth or formed more recently than not. (it was always fun to meet a person who developed their cracks later in life). there was no sad tragedy behind him to give excuse to the things he lacked ---he simply was. loving parents, standard youth (brief period of bullying included), college, one-night stands, even stints at relationships he never had interest in to begin with. not once was there a mark of reason as to why he was like this. perhaps he’d been born backward. perhaps he was missing something fundamental. it didn’t matter, he didn’t care.

“ mm, i’d never do well as an outright professor. ” jamie hummed in thought, words softer than they conversationally should have been. it was less a self-admonishment and more of a concrete example of how little he could deal with the insolence of the new age of medicine and science. “ their career would die the moment their scoring fell into my hands. ” and he chuckled at the thought, swallowing another mouthful of wine and minding the clink of the glass when he set it down once more. “ knowing the way that school systems are, they’ll pass all the way through graduation. half will fall apart on their first medical rotation when they realize they’re responsible for a human life and can’t handle the pressure, half will soldier through and go on to commit more malpractice than you or i could ever imagine. except they’ll have excellent lawyers and nothing will ever come of their mistakes. ”

sloppy. he hoped he never needed the assistance of anyone in the medical field for something serious. “ i simply put a smile on my face, offer my best impression of them, and finish the lecture. ” it was part of pretending. he knew that celine understood - she did it, too. else they wouldn’t share these drinks and chats as frequently as they did. machines with synthetic skin. “ you handle it more than i do, i think. how many people do you speak with in a professional setting that make you want to gag yourself with their idiocy? the worst is ... they believe themselves. they’re so caught up in their own bullshit that they actually believe themselves. ” another snort. weren’t they so much better? weren’t they just absolutely perfect on their thrones, judging the world, the room? “ appear? when you are. we’re nothing like this. ” and he gestures slightly to the room, a little nod of his head in their direction, as if there was a thick line between their table and everywhere else.

#iii. interactions #reaporter #reaporter 1

location: core by clare smyth, kensington park road time: after 8:30pm who: jamie zaal & celine broughton @reaporter

held delicately between his index finger and thumb, jamie slowly spun the stem of the wine glass mindlessly, attention firmly placed on the individuals at the tables surrounding his own. it wasn’t at all an uncommon occurrence for this particular affair to persist - two individuals with some loose bolts enjoying an expensive meal and expensive drinks while speaking ill of those in their lives. details, on his behalf, were always kept light ---nothing that could immediately be connected here or there, but it was nice to speak more freely than in most other instances. he brought his wine to his mouth and swallowed a good draw, pausing a moment to savor the flavor.

and when he could he let his tongue slide along his lips to collect any excess flavor he set the glass down, still playing with the stem. “ i was requested to lecture at the university this week. there’s one student in the class who must have been handed credits to proceed as far as they had. it was embarrassing how little they actually knew ---something as simple as the carpals and metacarpals. it frightens me, the quality of medical staff being churned into the world these days. ” so it began. he knew they could sit in silence comfortably enough ---but that defeated the purpose of these little meetings. it was amusing to unwind.

eyes shifted to the redhead, one brow quirking all the while fingers kept turning at wine stem. “ there’s a startling lack of competence all around. accounting for sheer laziness, sloppiness, mistakes. ”

#iii. interactions #reaporter #reaporter 1

rcklssfm·:

It was a fine line to walk between having morals and not. When it came to his work, the truth mattered most and those who were collateral damage to the end exposure were nothing more than that; miscalculated risks for a greater cause. For something as mundane as swiping a bottle from the bar, he’d pay his dues and hope that whatever good karma could come of it would work in his down on his luck favor. “Who am I to judge? For all we know, that guy is out there playing major game, or maybe she’s the one pulling the strings. Money talks and it just might have her talking a lot.” By the looks of it, the nicely tailored man could have had deep pockets and if so, a single tip from him could most certainly outweigh anyone else at the bar. Calculated risks, right?

“I’m thinking he might be the only tipper she needs. Look at that watch,” he hummed, leaning back on his stool so that other could get a cleaner look at the man of the hour. It was most certainly a rolex and by his nicely polished frame; either it was new or he had the funds to keep it serviced. “Which leads me to wonder… does he really have her attention?” With that question posed, Gus popped the top to the Jameson before tipping it over to fill each of their glasses. Once finished, he didn’t even bother returning it to it’s respected place with the other bottles within reach. “Gus, by the way. Happy to be of service.”

-

“ sex talks. ” jamie hummed in agreement, dark eyes studying the body language between the bartender and the man she was holding captive in conversation. or perhaps he was the venus fly trap and she the unwitting bug, slowly raveled into perilous toxins until consumption (how familiar he was with the concept, as both deadly fauna and fly). he’d be envious for the turnout if he were bothered to feel such things, instead amusement - for however fast a flicker it was - graced the corners of his mouth and fled just as quickly. attention was slow to return to his drinking companion, but only after studying the watch.

“ it is nice, for a fake. ” one of the many traps that london set was a market for fake anything. watches, shoes, handbags, jewelry ---if it had a brand it was likely to have a knockoff similar to it, something a trained eye that knew what to look for could find. for jamie, who had a rather broad collection of expensive wristwatches himself, he knew the tells. “ i believe he does. she’s completely unaware of the patrons in the bar other than him. whether it be his wallet or what rests to the left or right of it, that’s up for debate. look how she leans into him, the way the light catches her eye ---she wants something of his. and he wants something of hers, but that much is obvious. ” he studied people. he was good at it ---more than just the intimate knowledge of human anatomy was human nature. there was a lot to be told about body language, more than the mouth or eyes could ever give. “ jamie. your service is well-appreciated, thank you. ”

#iii. interactions #rcklssfm #rcklssfm 1 #rcklssfm: augustus #rcklssfm: augustus 1

angelfallfm:

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: belsize park 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇: @jamiezaal

“ now, whose idea was it to have you tag along?” she turns to look at jamie, sparing him a brief glance before shifting her attention back to her weapons, four handguns and three hunting knives concealed in what appears to be a gym bag. the man of the hour, oliver evans, has recently expressed zealous interest in the south communications, but it’s his tender loyalty that already belongs to someone else, somewhere across the enemy lines. what is about want and power that corrupts even the cleverest of men? “we should do this, well let’s say, fucking never again,” angel scoffs defiantly, preferring to call him only when her shoes are drenched in scarlet red, when her knives no longer sing a tune of bloodshed. “it’s funny how i’m the only reason you have a job. i think you ought to thank me, you prick.”

-

“ someone’s. ” he knew who, but giving an answer to a question that had been rhetorical in the first place was redundant in an of itself. neither he nor angel really cared why he was tagging along for the kill, it simply was. she was one of the few who saw him ---through the disguise, under the mask, that hideous creature with hollow eyes that pranced around and acted under the guise of a charming, handsome older man. perhaps angel didn’t bother to disguise her own nature (it wasn’t his business and jamie didn’t quite care, really), but there was something to be said for one of the few people in this world that knew what he was, and that he knew who they were in turn. poetry in motion, pleasant symmetry, in some form.

free hand pressed into the deep pocket of his dress slacks, the other tightening its grip on the large case he carried to each job. in the trunk of his car were the more sturdy tools - things he needed in some instances (like a bone saw, for one). they appeared as two clashing individuals meeting up for some late night rendezvous. let the world imagine, better than them knowing. “ bring it up with amina. i’d rather sew my face to the carpet than do this again. ” serious? teasing? the expression on his face was impossible to read, only the light lilt in his tone might have given true intention away. instead he gestured for angel to lead the way ---he’d act as a silent, dark shadow until it was his turn. “ mm, yes. you’re the only active murderer in all of london. before i was recruited into the hands i sat on my fingers and prayed for your coming. clearly you were foretold. ”

one brow rose, gaze lingering on angel’s features for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued. “ i’ll make sure your secret santa gift is extra special to mark my supreme graciousness on the matter. ”

#iii. interactions #angelfallfm #angelfallfm 1

rcklssfm:

closed starter for jamie ( @jamiezaal ) random pub

“If you’re looking for a quick drink, this isn’t the place for you. Looks they’re down to one bartender and her attention is on that guy she’s talking to. I’ve been here for about ten minutes now and nothing.” He’d contemplated walking out, maybe even coughing loudly enough to catch the woman’s attention, but he had too much on his mind to move from his worn seat at the bartop. “I’m half-tempted to grab a bottle for myself. It would be a shame to break that up.” Whatever the two were discussing, it was enough to leave the better half of the bar unattended to. For Gus, it just wasn’t worth making a fuss over.

Instead, he took one final look in their direction before he was leaning over the bar and grabbing a bottle of his personal favorite. “If you’re a whiskey drinker,” he offered, careful as he scooped up two glasses up with his fingers. “I don’t think she’ll mind much. I’m an honest guy, so I’ll just add it to my tab. Self-service gets me a discount, I think?” If she came down and busted up the party, he’d smooth talk his way through an apology and hoped it didn’t get him kicked out.

-

his disappointment eked onto his features, a slow leak like something caught in a tire, but with most other emotions it never quite met his eyes. that was the discerning quality that most people missed - by grand design - and jamie wouldn’t have it any other way. hands shifted the tails of his blazer away so he could straddle the bar seat beside the man who had no shame in immediately piping up to warn jamie of the bartender’s flirtations over function, and as if those very words were a guide for his eyes jamie beheld it himself. he could think of a few ways to gather her attention ---chief among them was reaching over the bar and snagging his own drinks ... or more likely, simply walking behind it. but that notion was knocked clean off the table when his new drinking companion did the former of his own accord, and jamie felt himself smirk at the effort.

“ at least you’re honest. i don’t think the same could be said for most of the patrons here. ” jamie included. whether or not he left his own mark would be dependent on his mood once the night of drinking wrapped up. instead he turned himself more conversationally toward the other and offered a soft hum of approval. “ whiskey is perfect, thank you. ” most people here bore some variant of an english accent - jamie never bothered to hide his dutch one ---nothing to be ashamed of where he came from. it was the way his mouth and tongue wrapped around the ends of words, the soft curl that suggested a fricative lingering here or there before he swallowed it down. “ i hope she gets something out of the conversation worth her while, for how much in tips it’s likely to cost her. ”