drowning on dry land

Taurus. INTJ. RP Account.

[jay-richardson]

Is This How You Hold It? | Theresa & Jay

[theresa-hathaway]

Theresa clapped her hands together in a quick succession, her smile was going to stay like this the whole day. At this moment, Jay was not just an in-law, but the only friend she had who knew how to shoot a gun. Most of the elite did not shoot considering it to fall under improper etiquette. As such, skeet shooting was not an Eton tradition. It was a Harlow one. Her mother, Elise, was nationally ranked and for once Theresa followed her footsteps during high school, before preferring to keep her shooting as merely a habit and nothing more. Her head tilted to one side, eyeing the somewhat odd smile on Jay’s face as they chatted. How could a man like him, one who she thought was cool like an ice cube, not want to go on a shooting trip? Sure, not everyone loved hunting, but Theresa was damn sure that everyone loved to shoot a weapon, at least a few times in their life.

“I love Skeet shooting,” she exclaimed, giving Jay a light slap on the shoulder. “Momma raised me on a gun and so did Pop Pop, it’s the best thing in the world” Theresa shut her lips realizing how she just called her own mother ‘momma.’ Her excitement caught up to her mouth, making a small flurry of chuckles escape her lip. “I mean— my mother taught me how to shoot and my grandfather taught me how to hunt.” While Theresa would not mind taking a seat at Ace of Spades, downing a glass of two of wine, bourbon or both, they were on a schedule and she wanted to keep it up.

“Carmen can handle shop today and you my dear dear in-law must hang out with me.” Grabbing Jay’s hands, she started to lead the way to the exit hoping it would get the VP into a better mindset of heading out to the range. “And you can use the new gun Archie got me. It’s pretty sweet, a Baretta DT 11.” Stopping her feet right in front of the exit, she let go of Jay’s arm and hoping he would take the signal to grab whatever he needed for their day. “You’ve got ten minutes, get going.”

[jay-richardson]

It's the best thing in the world.

Jay couldn't argue it. Except, perhaps, when he paired shooting a gun up to being with his wife. But even then, as much as he may have hated to admit it, it was a tight race. There was nothing like holding a gun in your hands and wielding that level of power. Knowing how to use it, and use it well, only added to that interest and enjoyment. It sounded horrible to say that there was nothing like taking the life of another, but it was true. In the right context. When he'd been a Marine, there had been a level of pleasure in it. No regret. Knowing each shot saved a life saved him from that. He'd give anything to have that feeling back and not the hollow feeling in his chest just from the thought. 

"I don't know. I did it some as a kid. Not so much a fan anymore," He shrugged, giving her a bit of a smile despite it. He didn't want her to think that he didn't wantto go. Clearly that wasn't an option, anyway. She was making him do this and he figured he'd just shut up and go along to get along. A fact made abundantly clear as she grabbed his hand and led him towards the door. Normally, Jay would've let Carmen know, but she had been busy earlier and really he didn't think he'd mind. Hell, she might not even notice. Work took a lot of her focus when she was in Ace of Spades. Took a lot of her time when she wasn't in Ace of Spades, too.

Shaking his head, he raised an eyebrow at Theresa. "Good thing I like hanging out with you," He offered, smiling a bit and following her to the door. When she let go and told him to 'get going', both eyebrows raised and he spread his hands. "Where am I going? I thought we were going together?" He looked around for a second before back to her and furrowing his brow. Maybe he was missing something here that he hadn't picked up on.

[hathawayvivienne-blog]

Not a Request || Vivienne & Jay (flashback)

Vivienne was glad Cecelia was home. She was glad the girl had decided to stay in the family home for a while, at the very least until Adam returned. It was reassuring, having her under her roof, knowing that she was safe. It had been increasingly difficult to reassure herself as things continued to threaten her family. She never thought she’d see the day when she felt that a personal bodyguard was necessary to keep her children safe. It made her blood boil, though the Hathaway matriarch kept herself cool and collected. Sweating in front of the enemy was not wise. That meant they had won, and they would not win. She took the necessary precautions, yes, but she was still strong, and would act as untouched as before. 

She was sitting in the parlor, sipping her tea when the door opened and she heard voices. She set the newspaper she had been reading down and rose, going to see who had stopped by the house. Her smile grew as she saw Jay Richardson, her daughter’s husband. “Jay, what a lovely surprise. It’s so nice to see you.” She smiled. She had a feeling she knew why he was there. It was no secret what had happened to Cecelia, and he was family now. “Cecelia is sleeping, you’re more than welcome to wait with me in the parlor.” She offered. It definitely wasn’t a request, more of a command. She had questions for him. She was curious, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She didn’t wait for his agreement before heading back to the parlor. “Susan, be a dear and fetch Jay something to drink.” She instructed, “And more tea.” She added, passing over her tea cup as she sat down, gesturing for Jay to sit across from her. “You’ll have to figure security being much more..present. I’m sure you understand they are necessary considering recent events.” She added, sitting back, watching him. She studied his clothes, his hair, the way he stood. She missed no detail. The details were where the devil hid, after all. 

[jay-richardson]

New Years had been... exciting. For most of Launceston, at least. Less so for Carmen and Jay. They'd been at home, opting to avoid the party and spend the night with one another. He'd been more than willing to agree to that. Until, of course, they were woken with calls from the rest of the family once the ban on Apex had been lifted. Whatever had happened had been big, and they found out quickly at Cece had been involved. The thought of it all made Jay sick. Of all the shit that Lauceston had already done, now this? Selling people. Thankfully, Cece was home and safe and Jay thought it would be a good idea to visit just to make sure that she was okay.

Rarely did he find himself at the Hathaway home, and the main reason for that was because of the matriarch of the bunch. Vivienne. The woman terrified him. Not so much because of what she was capable of, but because she was a shining example of what he was capable of. He had torn her lover from her, after all. How could he then be expected to share the same space? To hold a conversation with her? To look her in the eye? He couldn't so, when possible, he avoided. Jay had already resolved that his trip there would be quick. Just to see Cece and offer her his support; from him and Carmen. When he'd been let in the front door, he was already feeling anxious. The mansion felt empty, and he couldn't help but think it was because of the presence that he'd stolen from them.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

He did not imagine, though, the sound of Vivienne's voice greeting him. The resulting tightness in his throat was almost instant. Turning to look at her, trying his best not to look like a deer in the headlights, he cleared his throat to try and form words and offered a small forced smile. Cece was sleeping. But he was to join her. He knew that, despite the appearance of a question, she was not asking. She was telling. Jay had been trained well to listen to the commands he was given. "Yes, ma'am..." His voice was quiet and he was ducking his head a bit, following after her and trying to calm his racing heart. The thought of entering the small room with her; just her, made him nauseous. If he looked her in the eye, would he see the sadness that he'd caused? Would he see the parts of her that he'd broken when he shot her husband? Probably not.

He was certain she was better at putting herself back together than he was. 

Sitting across from her, he nodded slowly. Words still seemed like an impossibility, but to sit in silence seemed like a far worst torture. "Of course." He nodded, glancing up at her for a quick moment and then back at the table between them. "How is Cece?"

[jay-richardson]

The Coldest Blood | Freja & Jay (Flashback)

[littlefrejalaine-blog]

Freja hadn’t perfected the art of acting. She’d never been good at pretending she was fine when she wasn’t. She couldn’t blame the man in front of her for doubting her. She didn’t believe the words herself, she knew they weren’t true. She had been hit, and hit hard. She’d been hit numerous times, each by different hands. Sometimes her pimp would pretend to care, he’d give her ice, tell her to take a nap, or feed her pretty little pills to make the pain go away, to numb her. Most of the times he laughed, told her she must have deserved it, or he’d hit her himself. She’d stopped feeling the pain. It hurt on the surface, but it was nothing she hadn’t experienced before. She’d gotten used to it. It had become a part of life. She couldn’t remember what it was like to not get beaten. 

But she felt so small standing there. She was wearing barely anything, and he was strong, healthy, fully clothed. The difference between them was recognizable. Freja immediately equated it to him being better than her. He was worth something. He was the type to have control. He had choices in life. Nobody had put an invisible collar around his neck and drug him to the ground. Nobody had kicked him while he was down. But that wasn’t true, was it? She was making assumptions. She frowned. What if he was as broken as she was? What if there were pieces of him missing too? She felt guilty for thinking there was a chance he wasn’t. The world hurt everyone. Nobody went without heartache. 

She nodded as she sat in his truck, pulling at the sleeves of her shirt, trying to ignore the darkness around her wrist. She flinched slightly as her fingers graced the bruise, finding that it hurt quite a bit. “It..it is cold..” She agreed. It was freezing, her body felt like ice, and it almost hurt to thaw out in his truck. She moved her fingers, finally able to feel them again as she did. She looked down at her lap, feeling self-conscious. She felt like he could see everything, the scratch marks on her inner thighs, the ache that constantly accompanied her footsteps, the dirtiness. She wanted to shower, to scrub it all away, to get away from his eyes. But he wasn’t looking at her like that. She was just paranoid. He was being kind. He hadn’t made her feel dirty. That wasn’t his fault. She looked up at him, offering him a little smile. 

"I..thank you.." She managed, letting go of her breath. She moved her hands now, in front of the vents, willing the heat to fill her, to make her feel again, to comfort her. It was pleasant, the heat blowing against her fingers. She looked at him when he asked if she was hungry. Did she look like she was starving? "I ate.." She began, realizing she had been about to say yesterday, as if that was common. "I..um." She blushed, looking away. "yes.. I’m a little hungry." She answered, trying to backtrack, to cover up her mistakes. 

[jay-richardson]

Jay knew he wasn't necessarily a tiny person, but he hardly thought he warranted the level of fear that this girl seemed to be giving him. But, then, he knew all too well that sometimes, it wasn't he scariest looking people that were the most dangerous. Eva had been a perfect example of that; she wasn't large or imposing. In any other situation, she wouldn't have naturally sparked fear in a grown man. But in the proper setting and with the right conditioning, the sight of her was enough to make his blood run cold still. To make his skin crawl and all the images he replayed in his mind at night jump to the forefront of his thoughts. Fear was not always rational or based in the obvious. But it was a very real thing in this town, and he knew that. 

Doing his best to remain as unimposing as possible, he kept his attention focused anywhere but directly on her. Kept his body turned away enough to show he wasn't a threat. Kept his voice calm and soft. If anything, she would warm up and not be half scared out of her mind the whole time. If he could have offered more, he would have.

As soon as thought thought occurred to him, his less encouraging side was quick to remind him that no amount of good deeds would help counter the bad that he'd done. It wasn't as if he believed in karma, per se. But he sure as hell wasn't expecting to be welcomed with open arms when he ended up at the pearly gates. His mind went once again to the gun below the seat where the girl now sat. Why had he kept it? Maybe, he supposed, because he wanted to be caught. The guilt that gnawed at him would be put to rest if he knew that he was held responsible for the wrong that he'd done. But he hadn't. It had sat there for years without so much as a question asked about it. No one thought he had done anything. That was the worst part. Being able to walk among his now family as if he was one of them.

But he wasn't. He never really would be, would he? Not knowing what he'd done. If they knew... 

"You're welcome." He glanced towards Freja, doing his best to offer a smile and faltering slightly. His brow knitted together for a moment before he realized that he was still looking her way. Turning away, he cleared his throat and glanced to the ground. Anywhere to keep from making her more nervous. To keep her from getting comfortable enough to ask what was wrong. As it stood right now, he didn't know if he'd be able to lie. "You are?" It was closer. She hadn't really admitted to being cold and now at least she was admitting she was hungry. "Why don't I grab you something to eat? There's a sandwich shop right over there." He motioned across the street before bringing his gaze her way.

[gracie-mancini]

I’m sorry, I was thinking about my bunny dressed up as an Easter bunny for Easter.  You were saying?

[jay-richardson]

Just, I heard about... you know. I'm glad you're alright, kid.

[jay-richardson]

Is This How You Hold It? | Theresa & Jay

[theresa-hathaway]

Okay so Theresa might’ve lied. She wasn’t bored, not from work anyway. The business was going swimmingly, everything was stacking exactly how she wanted it, but of course her personal life veered a different path. She was out of the loop with her kids, well one of her kids, and her marriage was—something. Theresa herself didn’t know how to classify it as more than just estranged and awkward to the nth degree. With Autumn and others still missing since the New Year’s Eve party, the city remained in a constant state of despair and she didn’t want to feel sad hence the whiny voicemail to Jay.

Skeet, trap shooting and sporting clays were all the same to her as long as it involved a shotgun and some targets for aim. Shooting was the one pastime Theresa and her mother, Elise, had in common. The mother-daughter duo spent a lot of time at ranges both in and out of Launceston including the Harlow estate back in Virginia. Though she had trouble getting along with her mother the majority of the time, shooting was the one occasion where laughter was shared between them. If only she could get that kind of relationship with her own daughter.

Theresa pushed aside her troubles for now, focusing on the gun locker in front of her. Only shotguns and a few rifles belonged in her locker, nothing else. She wasn’t a gun fanatic like other people, nor was she a part of any mob that had their men and women carry pistols on their bodies wherever they went. She merely liked to shoot and go hunting with her grandparents when she had the time, which now was only once a year. Jay’s Browning shotgun became the centerpiece of her locker, sharing its spot with the new Beretta given to her by Archie. She was sure that Archie knew her soft spot for well crafted shotguns, but receiving a gun from Jay was a pleasant surprise.

Jay, whether he knew it or not, was one of Theresa’s favorite family members, but more importantly he was a part of their small in-law club, those part of the Hathaway clan that weren’t actual Hathaways. It made their friendship all the better to have someone who knew how crazy it was being a part of such a large family network. They could drink and chat and she would never have to worry about her painfully honest words to get back to Edward, or better yet Vivienne. Now she could add shooting buddy to the list despite the clear weary tone from Jay’s texts that he wasn’t that up to go shooting. She was going to force him to come no matter what.

Taking both the Browning and Beretta out of the locker, Theresa made haste getting the rest of her gear before hustling out of the office and driving straight over to Ace of Spades. As she entered the building with a spring in her step and a toothy grin, Theresa held her arms open for her brother-in-law, giving a tight hug. “Ready for some fun?” she asked, before her ears caught the mention of her voicemail. She raised an eyebrow, the smile on her face never faltering. “Oh? So do we need to stop by to grab your gun or do you just want to borrow one from me?” Though anyone else might have taken it as a sign to postpone the trip, Theresa went the other way and added her own solutions. Their trip was going to happen, no matter what. 

[jay-richardson]

Jay wasn't quite sure why he was so hesitant to go shooting with Theresa. It wasn't like was the only person in Launceston that knew how to shoot gun. Truthfully, he thought you'd be hard pressed to find someone in this town that didn't know how to use a weapon of some kind. The fact that he had, at one point, been good enough to attract the attention of the Russians in this town wasn't necessarily common knowledge, and it wasn't as if she would be able to tell because he had a shotgun in his hands, of all things. But perhaps it was that side of himself that wasn't so interested in going out shooting. Shotguns had never really interested him; they lacked the precision that he was used to and always craved naturally when he had a gun in his hands.

But, then, skeet shooting had also never been of interest to him, and hunting even less so after his time in active duty. He'd always loved what he did, until the Russians had ruined it. There was a sense of satisfaction in what he did; in knowing what he did saved lives, not just ended them. There was never a sense of uncertainty in the shoots he took, because he knew they were necessary. Until Ethan Hathaway III, of course. There was no amount of reason that could get him out of that one. But for his other kills? The men and women and, in some cases, children, that he had killed because if he hadn't others would die. None of them had kept him up at night because he hadn't thought twice about the majority of them. 

If anything, it thrilled him. There was a rush in it, in each pull of the trigger. It was hard to replicate that high with clay pigeons, and even live animals, when you had hunted people.  That was a sentiment he could say to loudly without catching the attention of others; attention that he was absolutely certain that he didn't want to get. As it was, he barely mentioned the fact that he had been a Marine and even less often mentioned his role as a sniper. It gave a stigma that he didn't want attached to him... true, or not. In his case, he supposed many of the stereotypes had been proven true. He wasn't much more than a cold blooded killer, was he? He hoped, though, that this trip would be quite the opposite of that. Something relaxing. Enjoyable, maybe. Though he hadn't fired a gun for years and he wasn't sure he was ready to start doing it again.

Theresa wasn't much of a negotiator. At least, he hadn't gotten that feel when she called and told him (not asked) that they were going shooting today. When she was walking in the door, he was even more convinced that saying no here was not really an option. That's what got him into trouble the first time someone had put a gun in his hands and told him what to do, wasn't it? Hopefully Theresa wasn't pointing in him in the direct of another Hathaway family member and telling him to shoot. Just the thought of it made him shiver, instinctually bringing his hand up to rub at his left eye. His vision was still damaged from the cigarette that had been used on him. 

He hugged her back, placing a kiss to the side of her head in greeting. "Hey, Pres." He smiled, feeling far more relaxed with her than he did with several of his extended family members. Anyone else had the tendency to make him uncomfortable as if one wrong move would give away his secret. "I gave you the best one I had. Nothing else at home that'd work for this." Jay didn't keep guns in the house; no where that would be overly suspicious. The only gun he still had was his rifle, and that was locked under the seat of his truck. "So. Skeet shooting, huh?"

[lovingericdane]

[jay-richardson]

Jay Richardson, looking thoughtful.

[boys-do-luke]

[natexzampella]

The Crickets Have Arthritis - Flashback-

[natexzampella]

Nate had been foolish. He had left Erin when he shouldn’t had and now. Now he was at risk of losing her. His hands shook and as hard as he tried to stop it, the trembling wouldn’t go away. Nate pressed his eyes closed. His bawled up knuckles going to his head. He felt like hitting it over and over in attempts to think. Think. He needed something to go right. Needed someone in his corner. You want me to stay?

"Yes," There wasn’t a bit of hesitation in his voice. Nate didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not when Erin and their son could be dying. His eyes met Jay’s and he felt the tears welling up and wasn’t able to pretend they weren’t there. This wasn’t a time to pretend he wans’t in pain. He wasn’t afraid. He was terrified. "I can’t. I can’t lose her. Him..I can’t lose them."

Nate shook his head. Hands running over his face as a ragged breath past his lips. “They havne’t told me anything. I’ve been here an hour and nothing but they needed to do surgery. She could be bleeding out on that table and I’m here. I’m here because I’m useless in there.” He could not lose another wife. He could not go through that pain again. Losing Lisa had almost killed him and had he not had Katie he would have lost himself in the flames he fought to control. His eyes found Jay’s, even if he didn’t understand. Even if he would have rathered go off and rested his hand. He was here. He cared enough to put his schedule on hold. To sit. To wait. To listen to Nate panic. “I won’t lose another wife.”

[jay-richardson]

Before today, though he was sure he'd held conversations with Nate, it'd never been more than an acquaintanceship that he had with the man. Not because he didn't like him or see reason to be close to him, but simply a matter of situations. Rarely did they find themselves together; now, that was apparently going to change. Jay wasn't about to leave just because he didn't know Nate as well as he did some of his friends; the an needed someone, and right not it looked like that lot was falling to him. This was something he could do; and he hoped, do well.

Nodding as Nate told him that he wanted him to stay, he settled in and didn't plan on moving until Nate told him it was fine. Really, he didn't plan on leaving until they heard news of Erin; good news. Nodding again, Jay squeezed lightly at Nate's shoulder and watched him. There wasn't much to say, because words weren't going to make this situation better. They wouldn't help Erin get better or the doctors do their job. Nate felt useless here, but Jay was positive that he was even less help. 

Instead, he just listened as Nate told him the little information that he did know. That Erin was in surgery and that he hadn't heard anything else. The world of possibilities for what could be happened was diverse. Jay knew little about the medical world and even less about pregnancy; how often was it that something fatal happened? He prayed, for Nate's sake, that it wasn't often. That Erin wasn't one of them. With his attention fully on Nate, he nodded again and frowned. He squeezed the man's shoulder again and shook his head finally, finding at least a few words that he hoped would help. "Erin's strong, Nate. If anyone can pull through this, she can."

[jay-richardson]

Is This How You Hold It? | Theresa & Jay

[Voicemail from The President]: Jayyyyyyyyy. Jay. I’m sitting here in my office, bored out of my skull and instantly thought of one way to get rid of this boredom. Skeet! So forget about working today because we're go shooting. Pick you up in two hours. Be ready. Buh-bye!

Why he hadn't heard his phone, he wasn't completely sure. But, then, he never really paid attention all that well. By the time he picked it up to check the time, the message was nearly two hours old and Jay was looking to the clock.That was sudden. "Uh..." He wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to say, especially since he sat in the office of Ace of Spades alone. But it seemed like he should probably say something. "Okay, great, see you then?" or maybe a more appropriate "You know, I'd really rather not go shooting, especially with someone that has the Hathaway name." Not that he could easily explain that one, but he supposed it was okay because he wasn't explaining anything to anyone. He was sitting in the office with no choice in the matter. What was it with people these days and not even asking questions to see if people wanted to?

Jay assumed it was because he probably didn't do too many important things to begin with, so he was presumed free to do as he pleased. Mostly, his job consisted of paperwork anyway; all the fun stuff. Stuff that he could do, at least, and not anything involving the actual giving of alcohol. He'd make sure it was ordered and on the shelf and he'd talk to people, and right about there is where his skill set in the bar industry ended. Everyone needed something, right?

Over the few short years that he'd been taken in to this family, Jay had felt more... accepted than he had anywhere else, short of the family he had in the Marines. It was interesting that his experience with one led to his experience with the other; and not always in good ways. Theresa, specifically, had become one of those he was closest too. Maybe it was because they were both 'outsiders', in a sense. The in-laws that hadn't grown up as a Hathaway. Technically, he still wasn't a Hathaway but, admittedly, there were times that it felt like he had certainly taken Carmen's name instead of vice versa.

What had started out as a simple Christmas present had turned into something else entirely when Theresa had decided that they were going to go shooting together. It wasn't the worst thing he could thing of, but... well, it was pretty damn close. The last thing he wanted to do was have someone place a gun in his hands again when he was around any member of his now-family. Reminding himself that this was just some target practice and not an interrogation into what he'd done to connect with the Hathaways initially, he glanced at his watch--a gift from Carmen for Christmas--and sighed to himself. Standing, he headed towards the front of the bar. Before he was even to the door, he was calling his sister-in-law, checking in to see when she would be showing up and what exactly the plan was. Maybe that'd give him time to come up with an excuse about why he couldn't make it. He wasn't even to the second ring when he saw her walk in. Jay was sighing again, gritting his teeth together for a moment to remind himself that this was nothing. This was just shooting. Lots of people shot guns. Clearly Theresa shot guns. Just because he was going to have a gun in his hand didn't mean he was going to look like the man that killed the elder Ethan Hathaway.

Giving the woman a quick smile, he greeted her with a hug. "Theresa," Nodding, he glanced back towards where he had come and then back to the front door. With a smile, he chuckled a bit self deprecatingly. "So, just got your message."

[jay-richardson]

The Coldest Blood | Freja & Jay (Flashback)

[littlefrejalaine-blog]

Once upon a time Freja would have believed she could read people. She would have admitted that she could tell what a persons intentions were. She didn’t believe that anymore. She’d believed Alexei, she’d thought his intentions were genuine and that he had no desire to hurt her. Yet he had. He’d hurt her in the worst ways possible. Her finger idly brushed over the empty space where the engagement ring once calmed her. It wasn’t there anymore. That was valuable, the gold ring, and so it had been taken from her. She willed comfort to come from just brushing the space it had been, but it only seemed to make things worse. 

Old Freja wouldn’t have been this terrified of a man. Sure, she may have crossed the street at night to a more lit alley, but she wouldn’t be shaking like a leaf simply because he was larger than she was. She mentally cursed herself for being so pathetic. Was there anything wrong with him standing here by his truck? Absolutely not, and yet Freja’s eyes had grown and her heart had raced. It was awful. 

New Freja was almost zoning out until he spread his arms. She flinched, almost expecting him to slap her, grab her and throw her to the ground, or otherwise injure her. But she relaxed once she saw his smile. She didn’t trust him, how could she? But she did trust that at least for this minute, she wasn’t going to be injured. She nodded, glad that he wasn’t intending to hurt her—yet. “Okay..” She bit her lip, looking at her feet. She’d learned that a lot of men saw women as beneath them, more than many would believe. It was her instinct now to show that she knew her place and didn’t need to be reminded. Eyes cast downward was important. 

She tensed at his question. Walk into a hand? Definitely. But she shook her head, insisting that wasn’t true. “No, no of course not..nobody..I..I fell..it..it’s nothing I promise..please..” She squeaked out, shifting uncomfortably. “I..i..I..mean no Sir..no, of..of course not.” She added quickly, unsure how to answer him. She was already unnerved by her encounter with her client, normally she’d be able to answer a bit clearer, but she was scared. 

She looked up when he suggested she sit in the truck and warm up. She immediately started shaking her head, “No..no that’s not a good idea..” She stammered until he opened the door and backed up. The idea of warmth was so welcoming though. She watched him as he put his hands in his pockets. He could move any instant, couldn’t he? But..but he was standing there. She took a deep breath and moved to the truck, climbing in slowly. She took a breath, rubbing her hands together as she sat in the warmth. Her eyes stayed on him. She felt guilty. “It..it’s your truck…you..you can come in too..” She added after a minute of hesitation. 

[jay-richardson]

Jay wasn't the sharpest tack in the world, but in his life he'd learned a thing or two. One of them, from personal experience, was the look of a woman that had been hit before. Before he found himself in Launceston, his relationship with his commanding officers' wife had been a prime example of it. It was exactly the same behavior he saw mirrored in the young woman in front of him. The girl. She looked like a child, barely old enough to be on her own and surely too young to deal with this. But what was he supposed to do about it? He didn't even know her name, let alone anything about her; didn't know that he could even trust her, as horrible as it sounded. Appearances in this town were deceiving, though he wanted to believe that she was sweet.

The most he could do was offer a moment's respite. A way to warm up. Her quick denial to his question of whether someone had hit her was, despite being a 'no', sounded an awful lot like a yes. Nodding slowly, Jay glanced from her to his truck and back again. He sighed, accepting the answer. Pushing her wouldn't accomplish much more than having her leave or making her scared, and she already looked terrified. He knew the feeling, especially in a town like this. Terror was synonymous with living. Shifting uncomfortably, he cleared his throat and stepped back, giving some space between the two of them. The last thing he wanted to do was give her more reason to be afraid.

When he opened the door and she started to deny his offer, he shook his head a bit and smiled. "It's nothing, really. Probably do you good; cold out here." And you're barely wearing anything, he wanted to add. You look frozen to the bone. He doubted adding any of that would help, so he was quiet and patient and waited until she moved forward and stepped into the cab of the pick up. He reached over, planing his hand against the hood and leaning there for a moment. The metal was cold, though the car had been running for some time, and it made his fingers sting form the chill. It was barely anythign compared to what the girl in front of him was probably feeling.

At her offer to join her, he shook his head a bit and gave a slight smile. "I"m fine, don't worry about it. Just go ahead and get warm, don't worry about me." He shifted, sliding his hand into his pocket and moving so he could lean back against the truck. Glancing out across the parking lot, he silently thanked the girl for showing up. Not that he was thankful for her situation, but she'd been successful in distracting him from where his thoughts had been going before. From the gun under the seat where she was now situated. For the shit that had been happening in Launceston. Glancing back towards her, his eyebrows rose. "Are oyu hungry?"

[jay-richardson]

"Ravings of Insanity" | Aaron & Jay

[aaron-plushenko]

Aaron had to admit that as the days passed by since he was back in the city, not having his own car and not driving at all was starting to become a problem to him. He tried to avoid public transportation most of the times - actually, he couldn’t even remember the last time he got into a bus, and sometimes the city was just too big to allow him to go by foot everywhere, so his car was definitely something that he missed, but just another thing that brought him back to the times when he was at Russia. The car flipping over and over were the last times of freedom that he had, and as well the first moment that he had lost control of his life for what would end up being for five months.

Good thing was that once he moved for Anderson Island once and for all, most of the people that he visited and places that he went would all be around him, with the exception of his parents mansion that was located on a very wealthy area of Brenton, a small one but still existent wealthy area in the region that Aaron’s family got themselves a place years ago when the war between families were anywhere near what they were today, and still it made him proud and surprised that his family’s name never got involved with the mafia that seemed to surround them. The Plushenko’s were just living their own life like there wasn’t a lot going on around them, just like a lot of citizens in Launceston tried to.. like Aaron used to when he was younger.

He was going to visit his new apartment, considering that some people were going to show up to set up some things in the bathroom and honestly, Aaron didn’t have a lot more to do other than keep an eye on things there, so somewhat that was better than staring at a blank wall in his bedroom or just visiting his son during his sleep hours, which he knew way too well by now. Someone on the other side of the street caught his attention as he began to talk to himself, loud enough for Aaron to hear and find the man quite familiar as he tried to remember where he knew him from, and it only took him a couple more minutes to realize that it was the man that also caught him in a moment of distress a few days ago - Jay. Instantly Aaron decided to approach him, not knowing if that old and terrible looking truck was his or if something else had happened.

"What’s up?" The Russian asked, noticing how his voice seemed to bring Jay on the edge just like he was in the middle of their conversation as Aaron introduced himself, there was something going on with that man and it was all over his face, but Aaron just did his best to pretend that he was idiot enough to not realize how he seemed to have a problem. "Hi." Aaron greeted him back while taking a look at the truck, and he just missed his car even more as he saw the conditions of that vehicle. "What happened?"

[jay-richardson]

What's up? Such a casual question and for some reason it just made Jay angry. That was a feeling that didn't often find itself settling over him; at least, not as of late. In his younger years, maybe. When he was full of too much confidence and found himself employed by the marines. It was like he thrived off that rush. Now? He could barely call what he did thriving. It was survival, pure and simple. It was fueled by fear and guilt and it ate at him more than it pushed him forward. There were times he felt he was drowning in it, and with everything that currently compounded on each other, that feeling was bubbling up again. Collete's recent death. The stress in the family. The pressure. New Years. Everything piled on top of each other and now he stood in front of a broken truck and, though a little issue in the grand scheme of things, it felt like a weight dropped on his shoulders, and he wasn't feeling so confident in his ability to tread water anymore.

But he was angry. At the truck. At the Russians, for what they did. At Aaron, for not seeming to catch on to that fact and the realization that no, things weren't alright. Mostly, at himself. Entirely at himself. When it came right down to it, when he dug to the base of the issue, he always seemed to find himself. Had he not made the one decision three years ago; had he not looked through that scope and pulled the trigger, none of this would have happened. He'd be living his dead end life back in Colorado; more than likely he'd be dead, if the Russians had their way. Ethan would be alive. The Hathaway family would have the sting of death taste a little less prominent. They would have been better off without him, and that was clear.

Gritting his teeth a bit, he attempted to temper his mood, looking back to the hood of his truck and shaking his head. The question from Aaron got an uncharacteristically sharp reply from Jay as he finally looked back up. "It stopped fucking working." ALmost instantly he was aware of how rude he was being to a man that had no part in any of this. He'd just been walking past, and that was it. No sins committed, that Jay knew of. Though, in this town, you didn't have to look far into a person to find  a list of their misdeeds.

"Sorry," He apologized quietly, sighing and looking towards Aaron with a more genuinely apologetic look. "Long day." He glanced around before looking back to the man and connecting the fact that he was, in fact, walking. Raising his eyebrow, he rubbed his still tingling finger against his jeans. "No ride? you're not walking in the cold, are you?"

[natexzampella]

The Crickets Have Arthritis - Flashback-

[natexzampella]

"You should work on being more careful." It was all Nate could manage. He really didn’t have it in him. His eyes flickerd past Jay again hoping the doctor would come out. "Jesus Christ." His eyes fell towards the clock again but Jay’s question pulled him back. He looked at again the man had concern written on his face. It wouldn’t be fair for Nate to send him away with out saying something. His sighed shaking his head. 

Are you alright? Was he okay? No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be for a while. Until he knew that Erin was okay. He pressed his lips together biting down on his inner cheek Nate slumped down into the chair behind him. “Its Erin and the baby.” Nate swallowed his head falling into his hands, his chest wracking with a frustrated sigh. “Erin’s having emergency surgery..she could die. She and the baby both.”

Why was he telling Jay this. The two weren’t partially close and yet here Nate was throwing it all out. No one else was here though what was he supposed to do panic alone. Erin wouldn’t want that and Nate knew it. Nate nodded towards the chair across from him. “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

[jay-richardson]

"Yeah..." It wasn't that Jay didn't think Nate cared, because he was sure the man did. In any other situation, he probably would've been curious about what happened past a single answer that was shrugged off. But right now, it was clear he had his own issues to worry about. Things that wouldn't be trumped by a few stitches from a man that was nothing more than a casual friend. He didn't feel the need to say anything else about it  or explain further; the majority of what happened had been summed up in what he already said. A stupid mistake. Brought on by a lack of sleep and lack of attention and complete focus on the things that he couldn't change now.

Funny how the past worked like that; being concrete and all. A fact that the man in front of him probably knew well. Whatever drew him into this waiting room was more than just a little slip of a knife on a finger like it had been for Jay; the way he held himself; the way he spoke. It all pointed to something heavier. And when he gave his explanation, Jay was breathing out and understanding. Erin and the baby. His own thoughts jumped to what he would have done if it was Carmen in the hospital; if it was her that had been pregnant and in this position. He couldn't. As much as he wanted to put himself in Nate's shoes, he couldn't quite get to the same level; how could he, when his wife was safe and healthy? "Shit, Nate..."

"You want me to stay?" He was asking before Nate confirmed that having company would be nice, and without hesitation he was nodding and taking a seat in one of the chairs. "They haven't told you anything? How long have you been sitting here?" His eyebrows rose in question, concern written over his face as he glanced at the man and reached over to place a comforting hand on his back.

[jay-richardson]

The Coldest Blood | Freja & Jay

[littlefrejalaine-blog]

Freja often tormented herself with thoughts of her past. There was very little else that occupied her mind. She’d replayed it in her head ten thousand times. The Russians faces when they told her she would bear Alexei’s debt.

"Mr. Yenin isn’t coming back, he ran. He left you with his debt. Not to worry, we can take care of this easily."  She’d felt sick. The truth was the betrayal was worse than anything else. There was nothing pleasant and clean and comfortable about prostitution, but the betrayal had crushed her. He’d promised she wouldn’t end up like the other girls, and yet when things fell to pieces, he’d left her to just that. 

The cold at least helped with her thoughts. Instead of focusing on Alexei’s betrayal, she could focus on finding her way back to the apartments. She hadn’t anticipated confronting anyone. She looked the man over. He wasn’t a small man, he was muscular, and had the roughness to him that said he wasn’t alright before she’d gotten there. At the same time, he seemed to soften when he saw her. She was used to that. Pity. Concern. Most of the time, it was genuine, but Alexei had seemed genuine too. She couldn’t trust those looks anymore. 

She hesitated when he asked if he’d scared her. He had. Though she’d been the one to walk up on him. She shook her head, “No Sir.." She answered, trying to mentally calm herself. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she was feeling that all too familiar feeling of dread. No matter his kindness, Freja was never comfortable around men. 

The good news was that he didn’t have a Russian accent, that was the factor that had allowed her to calm some. That was, until he pointed out her bruise. She lifted her fingers to her eye when he’d asked. She forced a smile, nodding. “It’s nothing..I’m a bit clumsy.” She answered, obediently. She’d learned long ago to answer questions by brushing them off. Why was she dressed that way? Oh she’d been in a hurry. Why was she bruised? Oh she was clumsy, she fell, it was nothing to be concerned of. Did she need help? No, of course not, everything was fine. Those answers were practically immediate at this point. She didn’t need to think about them. 

She frowned a little at his question. She wanted the warmth. She longed to be able to feel her fingers again. The offer of warmth, of comfort, was like putting a piece of candy in front of a child. But the threat of punishment, of a beating was there too. She looked over her shoulder, peering into the darkness, seeking out those who would abuse her. “I..I really shouldn’t.." But she wanted to. She just wanted two minutes to warm up. "I’m actually..I’m lost.." She admitted, hoping to pull the attention off her bruise and the fact that was was shaking like a leaf. 

[jay-richardson]

Observation, in the generic sense, was something that Jay could do. Picking up on details was easy because it was what he had been trained to do. He could notice the little things instantly, because sometimes it was those little things that would be the difference between life and death. But none of that quite equaled perception, as least as far as emotions went. Really, he thought he was kind of shit at it, all things considered. He could figure out what he was feeling, sometimes, and what other people were feeling, rarely. His position in the Marines--the thing he'd been really good at--had never really put him face to face with people. The closest he got was seeing them through a scope, and he didn't really have to figure out how they were feeling, just if they were a threat. That had been enjoyable. That was ruined now, though, and even looking at the bag under the seat inhis truck made him wantto throw up. He didn't even need to pull the gun out and feel the familiar weight of it in his hands to know what it would be like. He knew that weapon inside out; better than he knew himself, maybe. He knew, as much as he may have wanted to at times, he'd probably never be able to pick it up and pull the trigger again without seeing the same face at the other end of the scope.

But, while he may have been a self proclaimed idiot when it came to picking up things as far as others emotions went, he wasn't a brick wall. Freja's answer to whether or not he had scared her while, verbally was a no, very much seemed like a yes. Had he been doing something scary? Not that he was aware of. It may have been nothing more than the fact that he was standing there and he was larger than her. Truthfully, there were times when just the presence of another person was unnerving in this town; to that he could relate.

Clearing his throat a bit, he spread his arms a bit and did his best to give her a reassuring smile. Was there anything really to say? Most words were meaningless in this town. The idea that promises and assurances meant anything was lost in Launceston amid the web of lies. He was just as guilty as others, if not more so. Some people didn't even pretend they were good people; he did, and he knew very well that he was no such thing. What room did he have to promise that he was safe and not scary when he knew that he was just like every other godforsaken monster in this town. "I'm not going to hurt you."

His eyes were focused on the bruise and, despite her excuse that she was just clumsy, he was finding her hard to believe. "Walked into someone's hand?" He asked, hoping he sounded more gentle than accusatory. The girl looked like she could've been knocked over by a strong wind and someone had gone and done that? He hated the fact that it didn't surprise him; that not much surprised him anymore. He wanted so desperately to hold on to the idea that right and wrong were still things that existed, but Launceston had a way of strangling that out of someone and leaving nothing but the bad side of things. His brow furrowed, concern still washed over his face and... maybe, a little sadness. If this town had broken him, not that he boasted any level of strength above someone else, he could only imagine what it would do to someone like the girl in front of him.

"Lost?" Jay nodded, smiling again. "I bet I can help. Why don't you sit in the truck--it's warm, still. I'll even stay out here. Give it a few minutes and when you can feel your hands again I can maybe help you find what you're looking for." He pulled open the truck's cab door as he said it, motioning to the seat and giving her room to get in if she wanted. As if an extra incentive and show that he wasn't about to do something, he took a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets and waiting to see if she would take him up on the offer.

[jay-richardson]

Save one for me…

— E.

[jay-richardson]

The Coldest Blood | OPEN

[littlefrejalaine-blog]

Freja found herself feeling lost more nights than not. Brenton was still confusing to her, but the city as a whole was even worse. She had been with four men that night. It wasn’t the biggest number, but it certainly wasn’t the smallest either. She held the jacket she had been given over her, clutching the thin fabric in a fist across her chest. She was trying to keep the cold out, but she couldn’t. She felt cold all the time now. It was a comfort of her past, warmth, that seemed so far away now. Of course, it wasn’t just the temperature, but the people, who were cold. She’d never been completely naive, she’d known there were bad people, but she just hadn’t thought it would be this bad for her.

She walked slowly, her body aching. She’d been thrown around like a rag doll, passed from strong arms, to weaker ones, and back to strong arms. She could still smell the scent of sweat and smokes mixed together, bad breath and breath with alcohol. She could feel their fingers, bruising her pale skin, sinking into her core, as though offering her pleasure. She took a shaky breath, looking up at the stars. Would it be so wrong to end it? Couldn’t she slip quietly away? And yet, she felt she didn’t have the freedom to do even that. What would she use? She had nothing that would make it quiet, painless. 

She didn’t really have anything that would make it loud and painful, aside from trying to run. But would they give her what she wanted? Or would the Russians simply make her life worse? She couldn’t risk that. She needed assurance, and she didn’t trust anyone to give her what she desired. She’d have to do it herself, but the time was not right, she didn’t have what she needed to do so.

The biggest part of her wanted closure. She’d been told again and again that Alexei had gotten up and run, a coward, leaving her to her sufferings. But it didn’t make sense. He’d loved her, hadn’t he? Or was she still being a foolish little girl? She shook the thoughts away, crossing the parking lot when she saw the man. She swallowed, slowing to a stop. She was never comfortable around men, especially not when she still felt the crawling sensation on her flesh of those she’d just been with. She’d cleaned herself up as best she could, but her hair was still tangled, a mess of knots, from being pulled on. She was still thin as paper, and shivering with the lack of clothing.

Her lips were red and swollen. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her left was beginning to bruise though the darkness helped to conceal that. She watched quietly, too timid to say anything as she tried to figure out what he was doing. She could turn around and go back the other way, or she could go around him, but she felt frozen in her spot. She didn’t really know where she was going anyway, she was lost, again. She must have taken a wrong turn, or four. 

She jumped when he turned around. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, surprised and afraid she’d upset him. She shook her head, “I..I’m sorry I.." She looked at her feet. "I didn’t mean to stare.." She promised, shifting uncomfortably as she tugged at her jacket, trying to cover herself more. She felt naked in front of him, though she wasn’t. 

[jay-richardson]

Jay was convinced that this town put him more on edge than any other place he'd ever lived. It wasn't as if he traveled a lot, but his career in the Marines at least had brought him to a few interesting places. None of them were quite as depraved as Launceston. He'd been in war zones that seemed friendly and more accepting than this town was. That had a way of working into your psyche. Making you think about it even when you thought you were free from the grips of this fucking town. 

He wasn't even sure why he'd pulled this out. Why, in the middle of a parking lot of all things, he'd decided to look at his gun. Maybe just to remind himself that it was still there; that as far as everything else went and as messed up as it was, at least this was something he still kept a secret. The last thing the Hathaways needed was to turn against their own family. Their family. That's what he was, wasn't it? That's how they referred to him. But, then again, that was simply because they didn't know the actual truth. Once they did, he knew he would have a lot more to contend with than just a couple angry tirades. While the Hathaway's may not have held the same level of power or vicious intent that some of the families in this town did, the death of Ethan Hathaways III had shook a lot of them in more ways than one. 

And he was the cause. In the end, as much as he may have wanted to pass the blame to the Russians that were pushing him towards it, he was still the one that pulled the trigger. He was the one that held the gun; that still held the gun. There was no one that anyone but him could be blamed because coercion or not, he was guilty. 

Those were the thoughts running through his head as there was a voice behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was certain, had he been asked, he wouldn't know what to say to explain his actions or behavior. He was thankful, at least, that the person standing there was an unfamiliar one. Judging by the lack of accent, she at least wasn't Russian... or maybe she was, but she wasn't blatantly so. She wasn't smoking. She wasn't a Hathaway. That was enough to at least calm his blood pressure a little bit. Not much; and not enough that his heart wasn't still pointing in his chest from the fright.

"No.. It's... it's fine. Sorry. Did I scare you?" He took the moment to look her over, frowning after a second as his gaze rested on her face. She looked like she was freezing, first of all, but secondly, the coloring around her eye was a clear sign of a fresh bruise. Jay frowned, glancing at his truck for a moment before back at her. "Shit. Are you alright, hun?" He motioned towards her eye as he said it, brow still knitted together in concern as his own worries were forgetton for at least a moment in lieu of someone else's struggle. He welcomed the distraction. 

Motioning at his truck before looking back to her he stepped back a bit. "Do you want to warm up? You look frozen."

[jay-richardson]

Merry Christmas my better half.

Pin me up against the wall a little more, yeah?

Love your baby.

[jay-richardson]

Dear Jay, 

You have been such an amazing friend and if Carmen really thinks we’re sisters, then an amazing brother-in-law. ;) I got you these gifts because they made me think of you, but I had to guess your size. Oh well. Anyway, I hope you and Carmen are having a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year. Don’t let her drink too much. 

— Sera. P.S You are welcome at our house or the bar anytime. Really. Also I know you will be an amazing godfather to Declan and I’s baby.