jon o'nutten

jon o'nutten for blood and glory

[thorosm]

we'll run like we're awesome, totally genius || thoros & jon, september 3rd

[thorosm]

Jon doesn’t knock, the rascal never bothers to, he just opens the door and walks in as if he’d own the office. Thoros closes the file, leaves it on his desk and looks up at the clock. Did the boy take him seriously when he told him to be on time for the meeting this morning or is it just a coincidence? After all, ever since he’s known him, Thoros can’t remember to have seen Jon be on time for anything.

He ignores the question, appreciates that the boy bothered to ask, but ignores it completely. Instead, he asks, with just the hint of a smile on his face, “Tell me now, how many alarm clocks did you need to wake up? And don’t tell me one, I know you’d be lying.” There are two mugs on the table, he keeps one for himself, gives Jon the other. “Pour yourself some coffee, I want you wide awake, not half-asleep in your seat.”

There’s a very interesting thing about the boy, something that probably drew Thoros’ attention in the first place. He can do anything; anything he’s asked of him he’s done without a problem. He may be taking his tasks seriously, or he might just really be a genius; whichever it might be, Thoros can’t afford to take anyone in the Brotherhood. He’s thought it through and through for the past weeks, made lists of pros and cons of why Jon O’Nutten should or shouldn’t be accepted in the Brotherhood, but the real decisions lies with Jon himself. He knows though, Thoros knows he can’t just blatantly welcome him to the Brotherhood as if it were some simple job. Oh, hey, well done you, welcome to the Brotherhood. Oh, it’s okay if you decline the offer and know who the members are. It’s just silly, he can’t do that. So, he’s going to test him. A final test, just to assure himself Jon will follow him in the Brotherhood.

He leans back in his chair, clears his throat. “Is this what you want to do with your life, Jon?” Fiddles with a pen, looks the boy straight in the eyes. “Work for a Philosophy Professor? Don’t you feel like it’s wasted potential? I’m not saying it is, I’m asking what you think.” He drops the pen on the table, takes his mug, blows into the steaming coffee. “I’m pleased with your work, you probably know that already. You’ve been a pain in the ass quite often too, but your work is, I must admit, remarkable.” True words they are. He’s never bothered to throw irrelevant flattery at everyone, always considered it a waste of words and time.  “Working for me … what good will it bring you?” 

[jon-nutten-blog]

Jon isn't really surprised when Thoros ignores his question; he doesn't bat an eyelid or ask again, just leaves it. If he wanted to tell me, he'd tell me. And after all, he doesn't really care about what Thoros' answer would be, anyway, not enough to ask about it again.

He grins at the question about the alarm clocks, and simply shrugs. "No more than five," he jokes, taking the mug from his hand. The coffee he'd bought on his way here is cold now, after all, and he'd only had half the cup: some more would do nicely. After dumping the paper cup in the bin, he stands up and goes over to pour himself some coffee into the mug Thoros had handed him, before sipping it the drink cautiously. 

(It's not too hot, he finds; he can drink it without burning his tongue too badly.)

He sits back down in his seat, mug in his hands and his eyes fixed on the boss, a lazy grin on his face. He shrugs when Thoros asks if this is what he wants to do with his life. "Is this you offering me a promotion?" He arches an eyebrow, but keeps his tone joking, just in case he's wrong and is just assuming too much. "But no, it's not what I've always aspired to do."

Jon knows he's a pain in the arse, and he has to fight back his smirk at that comment. But he is thinking about what Thoros says, despite looking as though he's not really paying the most attention: he is. "My rent money," he answers after a moment, and he's only half joking. This job is the only vaguely interesting one that was free, so he took it. It pays his rent and means he doesn't die of boredom. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

[valdling-blog]

She breathed an inward sigh of relief when he didn’t press the issue of home, and was slightly surprised at herself at having to do so. Val had been completely prepared for the difficulties of finding an apartment in an expensive city, moving furniture up long flights of stairs, settling into a brand new job, a new university, new friends. What she hadn’t been expecting, really, was the strange sort of purgatory of everything that came after. The “now what?” feeling. So yes — the last thing she wanted to talk about was home.

“Talk about another mystery killer,” Val replied with a grin, rocking forward on the bar on her elbows. “Where’s the fun in it if I just tell you all about myself?” She paused, shrugging. “Anyway, I guess — I hope I won’t be ‘bar girl’ for long. I’m kind of — how do you explain it — wandering right now.” Being born into a political family had taught Val a lot about what she didn’t want to do, yet not much in the other way. “I travel a lot. I wanna have a good time.” She leaned in a bit, smiling just a little. “You could say I don’t really have it together.”

And really — what 24 year old did? Val tended not to feel bad about the fact that she didn’t have her whole life figured out just yet, but something about Jon made it seem like he did. And a part of her envied that. “This must be terribly boring for you,” she added. “I’m really not the best conversationalist — fuck knows why I’m a bartender.”

[jon-nutten-blog]

"I'm sure you won't be," he said, and was surprised at how confident he was that he was speaking the truth. He'd only been speaking to her for a few minutes, but already he had the feeling that she was something more than just a 'bar girl'. She had a certain aura about her that couldn't be ignored; she'd go places, Jon was sure of it. 

(Not that he thought there was something wrong with being a bar girl - he certainly didn't - but it wasn't the top of the list of places to go in life, and he knew that Val was somewhere higher up.)

"Who does have it together, though? And you're young, you've got time." He grinned, downing the last of his drink. Jon knew where he was going, and he liked to think he had it together, but sometimes he did doubt it. Sure, he had a job now that was alright, but he knew for certain how he was going to get where he wanted to be. He had it under control, and he knew he was lucky to be that certain about where he'd be in five, maybe even ten years time.

He laughed at her comment, but shook his head. "It's not boring - it's actually quite interesting," he shrugged, placing his now-empty glass back down on the counter.

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Ships are in the air, everything goes rushing by || jon o'nutten & beric, september 15

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

“Did you?”, he said in retort. Beric remembered having spent over a decade in America and it seemed to him that all the time was dedicated to the University and his studies and when he was done he was very much an adult. This boy didn’t seem like an adult, like Cersei or Ned. Perhaps he was too old to reflect on this generation. Being twenty didn’t seem so far away, but being thirty three seemed like a life time away, oddly enough.

“What did you major in?”. He had always (the few times he payed any attention at all) seen the boy working on a computer and behind a platform of development. He imagined his work involved maintaining the system of this particular academy, archiving files and making sure nothing is lost.

It wasn’t a job too incredible for a programmer, at least from what he knew and from his reunions at the CCI. He had been taking a particular interest in the area and in assisting to his chair there, he might not be an expert but he at least wanted to know what his experts had to do to comply with the missions he assigned to them.

But in this boy’s case, in his regular job and what seemed a regular life; what made everything a bit more interesting was, of course, the fact that he was working for one of the two leaders of the Anonymous Brotherhood. Or perhaps it was with Thoros, if he was with the Brotherhood.

“It must get pretty boring in here”, he said crossing his arms, “Haven’t you thought of upgrading yourself to some other place? I’ve heard a great deal about your skills”.

It wasn’t a lie, from what he could remember Thoros had casually mentioned his assistant’s existence once or twice and how talented the boy was. Back then, when the Brotherhood was barely a sketch, Beric hadn’t paid much attention. He wondered if Thoros had paid attention to himself in the first place. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

"IT," he told him, grinning. It had been a pretty simple (by Jon's standards) course, and he'd flown through it, but it had still taken hours of studying to pass, despite it being what he was good at. IT seemed to be the only thing Jon was truly good at: everything else he was either rubbish at, or simply average. And even though he'd enjoyed it, there was too much stress in it, and Jon wouldn't get anything out of it - most of the jobs you could go on and do with it sounded too boring to Jon, and the few he liked the look of were what everyone else did, too. There was no chance he'd get such a high position. 

But even if he could, Jon liked his work here. "I have, a couple of times, but I like it here - less stressful, and I don't cope well with stress." He flashed a grin, his fingers tapping against the desk. Plus, he was working for Thoros and the Brotherhood, and it made things so much simpler if he worked here. It was just the most convenient place for him to be, for everyone.

Jon had used to dream of higher positions and better jobs when he was younger, but when he got older and when he discovered the Brotherhood and other organisations like them (although they all seemed to vary a lot, and they were all around the world) he knew what he wanted to do. There was much more excitement in these, and while he supposed they really would be stressful, he knew that the excitement of it all would override that every time. 

He wonders what Beric does, exactly. He doesn't know exactly what people like him do, and he's actually quite curious. He doesn't want to ask though; he decides to Google it later. Google has all the answers, and he doesn't know Beric well enough to ask things like that. He supposes he could ask Thoros though, Thoros wouldn't mind answering. (He doesn't think.)

[thorosm]

we'll run like we're awesome, totally genius || thoros & jon, september 3rd

He stubs his cigarette in an abandoned polysterene coffee cup and pulls his jacket a little closer around himself. Nasty old habit keeping him outside in the cold. He’s tried to give up smoking a few times, but it was never one of his priorities. It’s a sin to smoke those things, his mother used to say and, you’re playing with fire, ruining the life that God has given you. She has probably thought throwing God at him will make him feel bad about his actions, but in fact it only railroaded him into smoking more, just piss off God a little more. 

The day is cold. Too bloody cold for early September. He looks at his wristwatch and just the sight of the time makes him yawn. Too bloody early too. But he has a job to do, and tells himself it will eventually pay off some time in the future.

The morning fogs are rising over London as he enters the university. The building is empty, just some caretakers, cleaning classrooms with their headphones on. He takes a turn to the left, then to the right, then left again. His office is at the end of the floor. A caretaker walks past him. “You need to organise your desk, Professor,” the old lady tells him. “It’s all a mess. In my whole career, I never had the chance to see such a mess of an office! You must do something about it, sir.” Same old story.  He smiles, promises to clean his desk right away, and breaks his promise seconds after walking into his office. In fact, he disorganises things a little more. 

However messy things would look for an outsider, Thoros knows exactly where everything is. He takes an old crumpled folder out of a stack of papers. He opens it. Jon O’Nutten, reads the name. In movies files look really neat, with a fitting picture of the respective person clammed next to the file. O’Nutten’s file is anything but neat. It’s scribbled down in Thoros’s messy writing and the ink’s run dry at the end of the page. Jon’s name is, however, underlined in red ink. 

Thoros likes to think the boy’s ready. Genius boy, who ended up unvoluntarily working for him somehow; he can’t recall the circumstances of their first meeting, just that the boy made an impression, proved to be worty of something. He will prove his worth today, if he bothers to wake up for the meeting. The clock on the wall ticks. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

Jon had set his alarm the night before, something he rarely did. Usually he managed to wake up around the same time, and wandered into the office whenever. He got work done fast if he set his mind to it, so even though he was often late he usually got all his work done. But he didn't want to be late today - Thoros had said something about a meeting, and Jon had only been partially listening but he'd made a note to set his alarm just in case it was important.

So there he was, his hands in his pockets as he stepped off the train and started the walk from there to work at a time that was too early for Jon. At least he hadn't gone out, last night - that would have been awful. His head was ducked down as he walked quickly; it was slightly chilly and it would be nice to sit down at his desk in the warmth of the office. 

When he finally arrived, he was wondering if waking up this early was really worth it. He sipped at the coffee he'd brought the moment he stepped inside the building and made his way to Thoros' office (and, he supposed, it was kind of his office too - his desk and computer were in the corner).

He poked his head around the door when he got there, and when he saw Thoros in there, he stepped inside and cleared his throat. "Hey, boss," he greeted, closing the door behind him and heading over to his desk. He dumped his satchel onto his desk but kept his coffee in his left hand, then turned his chair towards Thoros and took a seat. "How's your morning been?" He wonders if Thoros will comment on him being earlier than usual (earlier than usual meaning on time) but he's not bothered about it, really.

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

[valdling-blog]

If Val’s question had any effect on Jon — she didn’t notice. In fact, the moment he mentioned the University she decided she wouldn’t ask for him to divulge; she’d had enough of universities for one day. She was certain whatever it was he did was blissfully normal and equally as boring as what she did, and a part of her regretting asking the question anyway. It was pretty predictable.

“Well,” she said slowly, crossing her arms, “I wouldn’t necessarily call London boring.” Val could think of far worse places to be. She could think of far more hopeless places to be. At least London had life. At least you could walk outside and walk straight into civilization. You didn’t need a car to get around. Val had nightmares about the sorts of places where you needed to know how to drive to get around. “I like it here,” she shrugged. It certainly didn’t feel like home — but she couldn’t say she was an avid fan of home, either.

“Scotland.” It was a statement on its own: one that, judging by her tone, Val did not care to elaborate on. She had left. She was here now. Always looking forward. “Oh, yes,” she continued with a small laugh. “Sort of kills the mystery, meeting like this. But I do plenty of other things, I can assure you. I’m not just bar girl.”

[jon-nutten-blog]

London wasn't exactly boring, Jon didn't think so anyway, he just wished he would have a chance to leave it, someday, even if it was just for a year or two. He hadn't traveled much, and that's what he found boring, really. He'd like to see the world a bit more before he got too focused on work to leave, or before he simply got too old. Maybe one day, he thought. Maybe one day he'd have the chance. "It's not so bad," he said at last, half-smiling.

Jon cocked his head when she told him Scotland (thinking about it, he should have recognised that accent. But it had been a long day, he reasoned. He could cut himself some slack.) He heard the finality in her tone though, and didn't ask her more, just as she hadn't when he'd told her he worked at the university. There were certain things you didn't push, he supposed, and this was one of them.

I'm not just a bar girl, she'd said, and that roused Jon's interest at once. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "Do elaborate; you've got me curious," he told her, leaning his elbow on the counter. 

[bloodandglory-rp]

character: jon o’nutten →  jon-nutten anonymous brotherhood JOSEPH GORDON-LEVITT

Ever since he was ten years old and his rather poor father had scraped up enough money to buy their first family computer, Jon had been overly intrigued. How does it work, Daddy? How do I do this? How do I do that? What does this do? Doesn’t it go any faster? His  mother told him it was just a phase and that he’d get bored of it after a while, which he did. He couldn’t work the thing very well at all, and it was awfully slow. He soon stopped messing around on it every day after school.

It was only when he started taking IT classes in year 9 that his fascination returned. This time it was different though. He understood how to work the computer, and he had enough patience to sit there for hours and just figure everything thing. IT classes soon became dull though because he could already do everything with ease, so instead he would just Google ‘computer hacking’ and ‘use html coding’.

IT courses became somewhat more interesting when it got to A Level though, and it was something he was good at and could pass with flying colours, so he opted to do that along with Maths and English Literature (the last two being his mother’s choices – apparently he wasn’t smart enough to do four subjects, and his mum didn’t want him to push himself too hard) which left him with more free time than he had in his GCSE year. He got better and better at hacking and coding, and even went on to do more IT at fairly unheard of University./small>

When he came out of university at the age of 21, he knew what he wanted to do. He’d heard about the Anonymous Brotherhood, and he knew right away that it was perfect for him. So he got a part-time job to pay the rent on his tiny flat, and in his spare time he managed to find out more about the Brotherhood. When he’d found as much as he could on them (everything about them was so closely guarded) he decided to try and get in.

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Ships are in the air, everything goes rushing by || jon o'nutten & beric, september 15

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

-

He silently apologised himself to the boy. For his lack of courtesy, if anything, a trait of which he was starting to lose the usual scrutiny he used to possess not so long ago, during a time when he considered everyone as relevant as the other. These days he didn’t have much appreciation for the mundane and he missed that, he missed the simplicity of a daily life, the austerity of meeting somebody who wasn’t threatening his life or his accomplishments. 

And he did trust Thoros as much as he did. In that moment every barrier fell to the ground and he relaxed his shoulders as he approached to the edge of the nearest desk and leaned against it, facing the boy. “Are you a student here?”, he asked. If he was a student, that could lead to talk about his area of knowledge and if it happened to be engineering or technologic, Beric could manoeuvre the inquiry from there and find out if he was part of the outer circles of the Brotherhood, if Thoros himself invited him.

This was game, entirely. Beric could very well ask Thoros later on but he preferred it this way. It was more interesting this way. And it allowed him to know the other.

[jon-nutten-blog]

Jon shook his head at the question. "No, no - I just work here, that's all," he told him, shrugging slightly. If he had more time, he'd probably take up a course, but his life was hectic enough as it was, and he was quite sick to death of the school life; he'd had his fair share for long enough. It was a relief to be done with it all now, and despite enjoying learning if it was something he was interested in, he'd much rather just teach himself. 

"I've finished all the schooling I intend to do," he added, grinning. It still felt good to say that, knowing that those long hours of studying were finally over and he wouldn't have to do that again. He just wished work wasn't so labourous, too - it would make life a lot easier, that was for sure.

Jon shifted in his seat, unsure of what to say now; he couldn't ask Beric about his schooling, since it was evident he was past that stage in life, so he just smiled at him and hoped that his own answers were enough, something that he'd wanted to hear and could carry on the conversation with. Truth be told, he didn't really want to talk about work all that much, but he felt like that was where it was headed: he was still afraid he'd let something slip. Even if Beric was in the Brotherhood, he could still say something that could be incriminating if he wasn't.

Even though he didn't have much to say, it was nice to meet him properly, though. Thoros mentioned him enough, and Jon had been curious to meet him for a while, he had to admit. Thoros obviously admired him (and cared about him) a lot, and Jon had yet to find out why. Maybe, after talking to Beric, he would. It would be nice to understand what Thoros loved so much about him, after all. 

He folded his hands together and fixed his eyes on Beric; they'd been wandering around the room before, not looking at him properly since he'd first caught sight of him. Beric was closer now, and Jon could see that he was handsome (perhaps that was one of the reasons Thoros liked him so much), and Jon found himself drawn to the man - there was something about him that made Jon want to know him, know more about him. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

[valdling-blog]

Truthfully there was something about him that put Val at ease, though she couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was. He reminded her of a childhood friend, maybe, or just the sort of person she would choose to hang out with, if met under different circumstances. Bartending had disillusioned her however to making genuine friends with customers, no matter how friendly or easy-going they seemed. It was a tired act: this give and take, hot and cold, pull and push — but it worked. It made her tips, and it was essentially part of the job. She wasn’t so bad at it.

Jon, then. He even winked! She thought, how charming! Val found herself struggling to keep from reaching over and pinching his nose right then and there — a hint of the old, carefree self creeping out before she could help it — something long lost or buried deep, definitely too impulsive and inappropriate for the workplace — especially with this kid she barely knew.

It struggled to dig itself out once in a while, this old self, like a body buried alive; her own body entombing it. Val tried to mummify the situation as often as she could, before it got out of hand.

So: “See?” she said instead, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly; composed; demure. “I can be nice, too. Tell me Jon. What do you do? Where are you from? It’s a slow day — entertain me.”

[jon-nutten-blog]

"Apparently you can," he agreed, still grinning widely at her. Much better; she was even prettier when she smiled, even only slightly. He suspected that when she was smiling properly she was rather breathtaking (more so than she already was.)

His grin faltered slightly when she asked what he did, but it was barely noticeable, thankfully for him. He'd used to work in the local Tesco store a few months back just to pay the bills (he'd never really liked it, and he'd often preferred to just mess around with computers all day. Work in a supermarket was boring; it was the same day in, day out, but when it came to hacking and programming, it was different. Each day he would be doing the same thing, but the result would be different, and he actually enjoyed computers. Unlike the shitty part-time shelf-stacking job he'd had before. Thank God he'd quit.)

"I'm working at the University College London - nothing special." He couldn't really go into any more detail than that (thankfully, she probably wouldn't want to), because most of the work he did there wasn't actually UCL related. Thoros had him doing work for the Brotherhood, most of the time, something much more interesting than being Thoros' assistant and doing actual work. "I've been a Londoner since birth," he said, shrugging. He'd been born in London, and he'd always lived here (heck, he'd even gone to university here, and he hated London. But he'd always thought that he'd hate somewhere else even more. His family were here, (although he rarely saw theme these days), as were his mates (although he rarely saw them, either.) "Never left it, either. I'm a very boring person," he concluded, giving her a shrug.

"Where are you from, then? I'd ask what you do, but, well..." he trailed off, gesturing to her with his hand. She was here serving him his beer; it was blatantly obvious what she did. He lifted his drink to his mouth once more, and took another sip, then another, before placing the glass back down on its coaster in front of him.

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Ships are in the air, everything goes rushing by || jon o'nutten & beric, september 15

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

-

Of course, he couldn’t ask him if Thoros had already invited him into their secret group. For a moment, he told himself that his friend would have commented that his assistant was part of the Brotherhood, yet he remembered that they hadn’t spoken in a long while and a pinch of guilt assaulted him yet again. He put his hands behind his back, “I think I’m going to wait for a while… in case he comes back”, the s04 wasn’t waiting for him, he had time, he wanted to give himself some time to think and in a way, he was afraid; afraid that if he decided to leave now, he would find enough excuses with the right amount of time and shame, to avoid Thoros and he knew he couldn’t do that anymore, if he meant to stay sane.

He extended his hand across the desk, “Beric Dondarrion, I don’t think we have met yet”, he had obtained the truth from his very enemies, he had played games of lies and masquerades with terrorists and the terrors of Westminster itself. He could find out if this boy was one of them without having to ask directly. And who knew, in his experience every knew acquaintance had a benefit underneath. And he knew how much they needed everything they could get, and everyone as well.

For now, he just wanted to know his name. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

He watched as Beric looked around the room, curious about this man; everyone knew of him, so he supposed that was why. He was something of a celebrity, after all, it would make sense to be intrigued by him. But Jon didn't think it was because of that, not really; he'd never really cared much for celebrity types, and he didn't see why Beric Dondarrion would be any different. 

"That's cool, yeah," he nodded, he was sure Thoros wouldn't mind Beric waiting for him. In the meantime, he could procrastinate even more by talking to Beric; it worked out for them all, he thought with a grin. After all, procrastinating the boring stuff was what he did best - was what he'd always done best, truthfully.

For a moment, he just blinked at the introduction, not expecting it (for someone so well known, he must know he was well known, yet he was introducing himself like any other. Although, he had to admit, it'd be a bit pretentious for him to just act like everyone knew him, and a bit awkward if it turned out that some people didn't) but then he reached out and shook Beric's hand. "Jon O'Nutten," he said, shaking his head at Beric's comment after. "No, we haven't, but it's nice to finally do so, huh?"

Jon leaned back in his seat after pulling his hand back from the handshake, and he kept on grinning as he pushed the keyboard of the computer to the side of the desk so he could lean his elbow there while still looking at Beric. As he surveyed Beric, he wondered just how close to Thoros he was. He'd heard his name from Thoros a few times, although he'd never gone into much detail.

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

[valdling-blog]

Val took her time putting his money in the register, trying to decide how best to deal with him. It would be easy to walk away now, slip into the back, deal with the dishes or other customers, or go out for a cigarette. It would be easy even to just flip him off (she has no problem flipping customers off, truly; no one ever reports her and there are always new customers) and go about her day, but. The truth was — she didn’t entirely want to. She didn’t entirely mind him so much. The truth was — he was kind of nice. And yes. Yes, she did like nice. He’d got her there. 

“I’ll bet,” she muttered anyway, under her breath, for lack of anything better to say.

Yet when she turned back from the register, she met his grin with a sort of smile, to indicate she was ready to give in. Just a little. “Val,” she said defiantly (as defiantly as anyone could say their name), resting her elbows down on the bar in front of him.

“What’s yours? Not,” she said, with the slightest hint of a smirk, “that I care.”

[jon-nutten-blog]

Jon's grin grew wider when she relented and gave him a smile. It wasn't much of a smile, granted, but it was better than what he'd got before. He ducked his head to hide the smugness that had worked its way into his grin though, so she wouldn't ignore him just to spite him - he had a feeling that was something the girl would do. Jon definitely liked her already.

So, her name was Val. Jon liked it, thought it suited her. He leaned his elbows on the counter as he looked up at her again, a glint in his eye. He'd not felt so relaxed in a long time, really. The work he did for the Brotherhood was tricky, to say the least, and it took up a lot of time and energy so he was often worn out, tense, and not really up for a good flirt. But the work was fun, and the Brotherhood's cause was good, was one he believed in, so he wasn't too bothered. Flirting was fun though, as was just sitting and having a drink and a conversation.

"Of course you don't," he said, winking at her when she spoke. "It's Jon though, since you asked so nicely." It'd been a long time since he'd had a casual conversation with someone that wasn't just polite small talk, and Jon found himself enjoying it more than he'd thought he would when he walked into the pub a few minutes prior. 

He sipped his beer again, enjoying the cool sensation of it in his mouth and on his tongue. Bitter, but lovely; a taste he'd not had in ages. It seemed he'd not done much in ages, and was only just realising it. He didn't get out enough - but then again, he'd never been much of a socialite. He'd often preferred to just stay inside: he didn't like being around people who weren't up to his intelligence level. People who weren't were dull. But then, he supposed, he'd realised that they weren't all that bad as he'd often thought. By that point, though, he was too busy to mix with them much. A shame, really. He should rectify that.

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

[valdling-blog]

Most guys, Val knew, would just leave it alone — take the hint and sink into their drinks, or mutter something nasty and forget to leave a tip — but this guy, this guy, decided to be friendly. Now, it took a lot more than simple friendliness to win Val over, but she appreciated the sentiment. It was, at least, the first nice thing that happened to her all day — this friendliness, and although she wasn’t in the habit of counting her blessings, she also knew when to give herself a break.

“I’m not most girls, either,” she said, allowing a corner of her mouth to twitch into a bit of a smile, however, warming ever so slightly. “A smart boy like you should have caught on already.” This was, of course, giving him more credit than he deserved, right off the bat, but there was something smart about him, wasn’t there?

She slid a coaster toward him along with his beer, still revealing nothing. “4 quid.” She waited a beat, sizing him up, resting a hand on her hip. 

“What makes you think I like nice?”

[jon-nutten-blog]

"Ah, but that's what they all say," he half-smirked across at her. Although, he thought, she really did seem different from the other girls: she seemed much more interesting, for a start, and Jon was intrigued. She was one of those people he just... wanted to know. He shifted in his seat when she pushed him the beer, and once he had it in front of him he tugged out his wallet and handed over the money.

He pushed the wallet into its pocket again and wrapped both of his hands around the drink, the coldness of it against his palms sending a shiver through him. He pulled one hand back when he lifted it to his mouth to take a sip, but re-wrapped it around the glass when it was back on the counter.

Her answer made him arch and eyebrow, and he cocked his head slightly. "Don't know why anyone wouldn't," he replied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Why would anyone dislike nice? Jon loved nice. Jon was nice. Nice people were great.

"What's your name?" He asked curiously, grinning up at her now. It was kind of fun to bother her, he had to admit, but he wasn't trying to bother her. He was just trying to be nice (which he was convinced she did like, because everyone liked nice.)

[sevendeaths-deactivated20140707]

Ships are in the air, everything goes rushing by || jon o'nutten & beric, september 15

-

He knocked on the door before opening and calling his friend’s name. His office was big enough for a college profesor. Unfortunately the sight of Thoros didn’t come. The office was empty, except for the desk in the corner that belonged to his assistant.

A kid, younger than Cersei herself. Beric smiled from the distance before inviting herself in, “I’m looking for your boss”, he said in jest. 

He had never spoken with Thoros’ assistant before, there had never been a chance, but the boy reminded him of Anguy and that was enough reason to speak to him today, he missed Anguy. His name was Jon, he remembered at that moment. Once or twice he had caught a glimpse of him using some platform of programmation. Someone so close to the second leader of the Brotherhood… Beric had to wonder. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

Jon had been working for the Brotherhood for a while now, and he loved it. He'd heard of it - because who hadn't? - and dreamed of getting in, but he'd never thought he would. And he had, obviously. He was currently mucking about on the computer though, bored of the actual work he had to do here; he'd learnt right away that the Brotherhood wasn't all fun and games, that he'd have to work a job here to get in. He'd accepted though (it was better than the shitty part-time gig he'd had before.) Most of his work was done anyway, and Thoros wasn't in the office, he'd thought he'd have the place to himself all afternoon.

Evidently he didn't though; he heard the door open even over the almost too-loud music he'd downloaded onto his iPod earlier this morning. He minimised the window he had open, yanked one of the earbuds a little too harshly from his ear, and turned to look at the man who'd just walked in, a sheepish grin plastered onto his face, despite being almost fully certain the man hadn't seen what he was up to. It wasn't anything he shouldn't be doing (according to the Brotherhood, not according to the law) but it wasn't what he was meant to be doing right now, and even though he recognised Beric Dondarrion, he had no idea whether or not the man knew about the Brotherhood. He knew there were others high up in the ranks, and he wondered whether or not this could be one of them, but he wouldn't risk it and ask any questions that could hint at anything, just in case. Perhaps he'd ask Thoros later, just to sate his curiosity. 

"He's, er, he's not here right now," he told him, pulling the other bud from his ear. Jon looked down at the wires of his earphones as he wound them around his now-paused iPod, and only looked up again once he'd placed it on the desk beside him. "He went out about an hour ago - he didn't say where to, though." Jon knew better than to ask those questions.

Jon's hands dropped to his knees, and he folded his ankles together as he spun a little on the chair, just slightly from side to side. "Do you want to write down a message, or I could just tell him to give you a call?" His smile was less sheepish now, and he'd relaxed after the initial surprise of realising he was no longer alone. Not that he minded: having Beric Dondarrion here was much more interesting than what he'd been doing before he came. He knew that Thoros and Beric were friends, or close acquaintances at least; Jon had seen him around here before. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

[valdling-blog]

It had already been A Day and Val hadn’t even been at the bar very long — roughly two hours. She’d spent most of the afternoon preparing for the start of the term, going over her syllabi and ordering course books, spending too much money she didn’t have on “managerial accounting” texts she could probably easily torrent online, if she only knew how. The thought of returning to school made her cringe, tightened up something tough and uncomfortable in her chest, something with sharp corners, a crumpled up paper ball of sorts. Not lethal, but enough to annoy. 

The bar was more her element; she complained about it: often and to anyone who was willing to listen (usually this was her roommate Gilly — who had become, both unexpectedly and pleasantly, such a comfort and close friend to her over the past few months — always there when she got home from work with a kind word and a shoulder to lean on if Val needed it), but she felt at ease here nonetheless. No one ever thought for a second that Val couldn’t hold her own amongst the brawls and the booze, and she embraced the fact. In fact, she almost reveled in it. It was exciting, to say the least, and if nothing else, Val craved excitement.

This guy, though. Val eyed him as he walked in, the way she eyed most customers if she had the chance — a lifelong aversion to being snuck up on — and resisted an eyeroll while wordlessly pulling out a glass from under the bar. He was cute, yeah, but attractive men always felt they had some sort of excuse.

“I’m not your babe,” she replied coolly, pouring him the beer. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

Well, this one's a ray of sunshine, he thought to himself as he watched her pour him the beer, amusement in his eyes. He didn't think he was the only reason for her evident annoyance though: there had to be something else. He may not be a girl's dream guy, but he didn't think his mere presence was enough to irritate someone this much.

"Alright," he shrugged, grinning at her as he leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. He considered asking what he could call her, but he had a feeling that she wouldn't take too well to that, so after a moment he asked. "What's up? I've got a feeling it's not just me hitting on you; most girls would take that as a compliment."

He didn't really care what was up with her, but he wanted to know and he would listen to her problems if she needed someone to talk to that badly: he thought the only reason why she'd actually tell him was because she had no one else to. "I promise I'm nice," he grinned wider, lifting his head from his hands so he could place his hand across his heart, his grin transforming into a slight smirk.

He settled both palms on the counter, his fingers drumming rhythmically against it as he waited patiently for his drink, still smirking at her, although now he'd fallen silent. 

[jon-nutten-blog]

the walls line the bullet holes // september 2nd // closed; jon and val

Jon hates his work at Tesco, but he needs to make a living somehow. His hands are deep in his pockets as he walks along the road, his feet against the pavement creating a steady rhythm. The street is strangely empty, he thinks as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up. He lifts it to his lips and takes a drag, thankful to finally have one after his shift. 

Customers at work always wore him out. They would always ask where this or that was, too lazy to just look up and read the signs telling them which aisle held which item. Jon would have to smile politely and make small talk as he led them through the store to find what they wanted, and then he had to thank them for shopping there while refraining himself from giving them an irritated shake.

Leaning against a wall, he took another puff and leaned his head back against the brick. He caught a whiff of the booze from inside and figured it must be a pub (he didn't often come back from work this way, but he'd felt like a longer walk today). For a moment, he considered going in: he could get a pint, chat up a girl - relax - but then he thought of how he had to be up early tomorrow to phone his mother, so reluctantly he pushed himself off the wall and walked past the door.

The door was open, and as he went past Jon saw a glimpse of the interior. He saw people laughing and joking around, but what made him drop his cigarette to the floor, stamp it out with the heel of his foot and go inside was the pretty girl behind the bar. He knew he had little to no chance, but it was always fun to try.

Music could be heard from outside, but the volume increased when he stepped inside and made his way to the bar. He slid onto one of the stools at the counter, liking that the place wasn't too full, wasn't too noisy even with the music playing. Jon shrugged his coat off and laid it over his lap, patting his pocket just to check his wallet was inside. It was.

"I'll have a Guinness, babe," he muttered to the girl, his lips twitching up into a lazy grin.