Jossie the Thief

"Aruba, hm? Islands don't wanna let you go." Of course Kaz had never heard of the fort. Not much of a reason for a journalist who never left Seattle to. Might look it up later out of curiosity. "So nothing creative on your end, didn't draw or paint? Wanted to be a protector rather than creator?" Jossie floated between serious and enamored, philosophical about the past and distracted by what was in front of them then.

Jossie deemed secondary curses not in fashion. Kaz hissed a laugh between his teeth. "You're forgetting about the island we're both stuck on now." Cyclical and challenging phases. Lately the island took a vacation, left them alone as it steered along its winter track. "Any other guesses what's in it then?" What did a pharaoh lock away in a chest inside a tomb? Once again, it was Joss' speciality.

Just kids partying-- Joss neglected to mention. Kaz didn't hear much either, however the place was as big as a museum on its own. But, fine. Whatever. They were already there and in the process of removing what was under glass.

Perhaps Joss planned to stash the chest someplace more out of sight until the teleporters whisked them away to the island. A little time for another drink. Kaz could kill some minutes taking selfies and searching for more manageable items to take back and sell in the market.

His gaze swung wide around to see what the possible path out of the room could be. Then he helped hoist the thing up, for Kaz to carry one end and Jossie the other. Unexpectedly, he heard the creak of footsteps overhead. One of the 'kids' Joss said, moving their party to the floor above. "Which way, where are we going to put this thing?"

“Doesn’t look like it no, I guess I was always meant for the island life,” he said in return. Jossie didn’t mind the island as much, though Aruba was where his heart was, and it was much less dangerous. Even though there was a saying that everything on the island was out to hurt you. “Nothing at all, I drew as a kid, but I never felt the need to become one of the greats myself, I’ve always been more of a history buff,” he explained. “And you, Kaz? Are you creative?”

“You’re right, I drew the very short stick,” he agreed. “Though I can’t ignore the opportunity I have to go all over the world and set some things right.” At the question what was in the chest, Jossie grinned. “Embalming tools, mostly. A few texts hopefully, it very much depends what the most recent owners took out and what they left in. I know where to find records of what exactly occupied this small coffin.”

His gaze swung wide around to see what the possible path out of the room could be. Then he helped hoist the thing up, for Kaz to carry one end and Jossie the other. Unexpectedly, he heard the creak of footsteps overhead. One of the ‘kids’ Joss said, moving their party to the floor above. “Which way, where are we going to put this thing?”

Jossie turned silent when he heard the creak, waited for it to pass and then turned back to Kaz. “There is a shot up van outside, we put it in the back for the time being before we get sent back through the teleporters.” He held his breath for another moment and pointed Kaz to another door away from the sound. “Though… how about we put it here for a moment and stake out our exit route first? Perhaps one of us can distract the partygoers and the other can carry this thing out.” He was going to suggest he was the one who did the carrying, since he didn’t know if he could trust Kaz to get it out safely.

It was only a ten-minute walk. Jupiter was already mentally preparing what she could make for them for a nice warm lunch. Maybe she could get the electricity in her weird little home working long enough to give them something to watch, too. It seemed like Jossie needed to take his mind off things. She wouldn't lecture him about drinking; people needed to find ways to cope and he was an adult. As long as it didn't start becoming a long-term thing, right? And that's what friends and support systems were for, right? All the tenets taught in the more serious segments of her show.

And, honestly, from personal experience with her estranged momma.

"Oooh yeah the beach huts! Those are so pretty but they'd just make me feel like I was always on vacation, then I'd remember I wasn't and I'd get sad about it," Jupiter giggled, but dammit Jupe! That was a tactless things to say: hey Jossie, the hut you live in is depressing. No shit. "Hey if you need help with any of your improvements, let me know. I'd love to give you a hand."

So close. Jupiter could see her own little cottage through the pathway of other cottages. They were nearly there, except -

She didn't notice the scattered marbles on the cobblestone path until she stepped on them. With a yelp and some struggle, Jupiter managed to catch her balance, but Jossie -

"Watch out, Jossie!" she called out, hoping he wouldn't slip on the marbles and lose his balance. Hidden behind a cottage shrub, she heard the giggling that was all-too familiar. Those awful McMillan twins, two brothers barely out of their teens with nothing better to do than play pranks on others.

#jossiethreads #thread.jupiter #//gigi what do you do to my poor lad

Jossie only hummed in response. Having lived on Aruba, most days had seemed like vacation. When the day ended, he got to go to the beach and enjoy the heat of the sun. The island wasn’t like his island, but he still attempted to make the most of it. “Sure,” he said in response, his mind wandering to the hut and to the beach and the life he’d been forced to partly leave behind, only allowed to leave for short periods of time.

Where Jupiter managed to catch herself when her feet hit the marbles, he couldn’t. He also didn’t want to drop the art for fear of breaking it, so he simply let himself fall back on his ass and kept the paintings firmly between his hands.

While that part of his mind was absolutely practical and rational, the other absolutely wasn’t. He put the paintings next to him in an instant and shot up, racing towards the cottage scrub and reaching out to catch one of the kids who had played this prank, his face clouded. “Do you think this is funny? Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt!” he hissed, as he pulled one of the boys out into the open.

Jupiter put her hands on her hips, her focus more on Jossie now than on the paintings. He wasn't rip-roaring embarrassing drunk or anything, but he did look dazed, dark circles under his eyes, and the breath of whiskey when he spoke. And his speaking was brief, just enough to answer her questions. That old charm he displayed before, while Sam was here, now gone.

Poor guy. He was trying and that was commendable, but no one should try alone, not in Jupiter's opinion. And it would be deeply frowned on if he had to go on-shift at the Tower in this state. She thought about all of Adarsh's wild theories about the island, how it knows things.

What if the island knew you weren't doing your one required job well?

Jupiter didn't want Jossie to find out. "Y'know that's a good point!" she said with amped jubilance, and looped Jossie's arm in hers, marching them to the stall. "Hi! I'd like these set of paintings please, they're gorgeous." The artist lit up, and Jupiter bartered with them, keeping a tight hold on Jossie's arm as she did. Eventually the deal was made; with a handshake, Jupiter then piled the paintings into Jossie's arms.

"Need a big strong man to help me," she entreated. "If you help me put these up at home, I'll cook you something nice to eat, eh? How'd you like that. Just follow me, it's only a ten-minute walk. I like being close to all the hustle and bustle. Where do you live again?"

#thread.jupiter #jossiethreads #//so many painssssss #//jupiter being such a good friend ;-;#//jossie being a great drunk #//I love that Jupiter took Adarsh' word for it x)

Jossie gave a short and small smile at the physical contact, at being included, but had to swallow right after, something deep in his throat reminding him that right now just something like this might destroy him. Warmth would destroy him, that’s what his father always said: how his father dealt with it. No talking, no hugs, no crying, simply distance. He knew it was wrong, and he’d been with his ex-wife long enough to have established some healthy coping mechanism. But to deal with the death of a child? That was grief at a whole other level.

He watched the ordeal as an outsider, almost as if he was behind thick glass, barely able to hear the voices, barely able to keep up with what was said. He couldn’t focus, but at least it was loud enough that it took away his own thoughts for a moment, drowned out by Jupiter trying to drive down the price.

The paintings were placed in his arms and he continued to look dazed. He nodded at the offer, though he barely registered it. Food sounded nice, and he’d be glad just to follow someone’s orders, as long as he didn’t need to share, and he could take sips from his whiskey every once in a while, he was good. All fine and all good.

“Sounds good,” he answered, realising he needed to answer, instead of just following Jupiter. The paintings were held in both hands, meaning he couldn’t grab for his flask. His mouth already felt dry, the burning feeling fading away. “Down by the beach, in one of the huts,” he said. “Though I’ve been making it sturdier.” Mostly so he could hide as much art there as possible without having to worry about it getting weather-damaged. Things that were even more valuable he hid in the tower. Walid reluctantly let him use a room.

Worked in a museum. "Oh yeah? What kind of museum? Which one?" A lot of reasons to ask but a main one stuck out. Nadia, pretty and slender. With a quick wit that burned hot and fast like a match strike. (He couldn't help but think of her. Repatriation of art was not a crime; leaving two boys was.)

A silence hovered for a few seconds around Jossie's words. "So. Antiquities. The old shit." Jossie vaguely swept a few conversational cobwebs aside, enough to keep Kaz interested. "Why is that your thing." Imperialism, colonialism, war-- all unjust and stitched up scars, further ripped open by the apocalypse. As Jossie began to talk about returning looted and stolen culture, Kaz had to assume it wasn't out of a desire to be noble.

Yet there they stood, with Jossie fixed on an ancient piece. "Wait-- there's not a fucking mummy in there. Now, Jossie, I'm cursed enough in this life. Can't afford another one, you know," he dragged out dry and slow, although he was only half-joking. The glass would be awkward to lift and move, but possible between the two.

And, oh shit. "There's no one else in this house but us, yeah?" Kaz began to realize he might've been set up for a more dangerous trip than had been explained originally. And his mind filled with little details he (stupidly) neglected to ask.

He crouched down and nodded to Jossie, in order for them to work together and remove the glass covering. Once done, his expression set more like stone by the seriousness of it all. Not much time to ooh and ahh over the delicate details of the chest. Kaz checked an old but reliable analog watch he'd traded for in the bazaar.

"What time did you set the teleporter for again?" A beat. "What is the real plan here, hm?" Hands rested on his hips and his brows tensed harsh. "Cuz now I'm feeling like you left out parts of the story. I don't mind helping to haul this back, Joss. But is there more I don't know about?" Fuck-- was the chest so well protected because it was more guarded than it appeared?

“Fort Zoutman historical museum,” Jossie said without pause. “On Aruba.” Not an art museum at all, although they did have plenty of art from the island that got put into one of the buildings. Mostly it was used as a venue, a way to celebrate the local culture, to remember the past, to share in food and drink. He’d always been aware that he could easily get a job at a more lucrative museum, perhaps in London, or in France, but no, Jossie had been in Europe for far too long, and anywhere was too far away from home. He could only hold out for a few months at a time. Which is what he’d done, but he didn’t tell Kaz that.

Jossie chuckled. “That old shit, yes, historical art.” At the question, he shrugged his shoulders. “There is only so much we know about life in the past, but art is always a window into that life, it will always suggest what life was like at that time. It needs to be preserved, because if we lose our link to our past, we might lose far more than just that.” He smiled then, reminiscing about anything ancient always made him happy, made him feel slightly proud of what he had been able to accomplish, although he wouldn't be so quick to tell anyone about it. “I’m from a former colony, there is no love lost between the knowledge of what your island is because of its past, and what it could’ve possibly been, and then the world ends, and you draw the short stick once again.” So he was here to take at least something back. Now that the opportunity was there.

As he scanned the hieroglyphics, he shook his head. “No mummy,” he decided. “Even if it were, the ones who stole it first are those who were cursed, second-hand curses aren’t in fashion.” And he’d never believed such a thing, it would mean bad things came to bad people, but they usually didn’t.

“Just the kids who are partying, they probably won’t notice, too drunk and too preoccupied, just act like you belong and you can take things with you outta here.” He had no knowledge of who now owned the place, or if they wanted to keep this thing. He couldn’t imagine that they’d want to keep this thing. They probably didn’t understand its value.

He looked at the chest happily, once the glass was gone, he could view the quality of it better. It was in a good state, perhaps it had been saved from the worst of it by the glass. He was enthusiastic about studying it, the chest would fit well in his room until he got a chance to make contact with what was left of the Egyptian government.

At Kaz’ question, he looked up. Heists were simple, this day and age, nobody to stop them. At least… that was the initial thought, he had no idea if they’d set off any alarms, he had no idea if the current owners would take kindly to this, but he planned to just bullshit his way out of it.

“We have plenty of time,” he replied, and got both hands under the chest, it was too heavy to lift on his own. So he gestured for Kaz to help him. “Just pretend you belong here, and we’re merely doing what everyone else is doing: looting the place."

oricarnell

"I know a bit. It should be enough to get around." Orion responded, managing to catch the bag thrown at him. His German wasn't perfect or great by any means, but he had managed to snatch up bits and pieces from his trips to Hamburg, where he had some contacts to survivor groups having settled there. But Hamburg was quite a bit off from the Baden-Wurtembergian countryside they had appeared in.

"Mind filling me on the details of this again?" Orion asked as they truged along the footpath towards the castle nestled on top of the hill. Trees surounded them on all sides, pressing in as they walked along. Other than his hunting knife Orion hadn't brought any weapons, but he hoped whatever they would get wouldn't require a fight. "I would like to be prepared for anything that might happen."

#thread.orion #jossiethreads #///eheheh I AM GLAD YOU LIKE IT!#//me as a dutch person look forward to exploring a german castle ;-;#<3

Jossie smiled. “Perfect, my German is passable at best,” he said, smiling. He was fluent in Dutch, and he could understand most of it if people spoke in German to him, but he didn’t come very far himself, he was counting on Orion being a bit better than him. Or for the Germans to know English.

“There is a small band of settlers that took that castle over there,” he said, as he pointed up above the trees. “From what we know, these people are new to the place, not sure where they’re from, but we’re just going in and say hi, see if there is anything we can trade. Best they think we’re just passing through though, heard they don’t take kindly to strangers.”

Oh boy. As Jossie swung closer, it became obvious what kind of state the poor guy was in. Not only was he a little buzzed, but he also looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in a long while. Jupiter had barely seen him around the island ever since the ghosts, but she hadn't been worried. He was an adult, he had a live of his own...but now Jupiter wondered if perhaps she should've been more concerned.

She tried not to look obviously concerned though. The last thing she wanted to do was chase Jossie off by being judgemental or pitying. Maybe he wouldn't care what she thought, though. They weren't close friends or anything.

"I'm doing okay, honey," she spoke warmly. "I think I might be in the minority to be glad my ghost momma's gone away. Seeing our old memory was one helluva trip, though."

She hoped Jossie might share as well. But so the conversation didn't get awkward, she also offered, "I'm out here looking for some more decoration for my cottage. Momma said it looks like a hotel room, no personality, shoot. So anyway..." Jupiter motioned towards the artwork stall. "What do you think about those pieces?"

#thread.jupiter #jossiethreads #//PAINNNN still pain continues #//but so good ;-;

Jossie swallowed, then licked his lips, lasting tastes of the whiskey finding their way to his tongue. Would it ever be enough? He found that grief was often stronger. Even if he fought it, it was still stronger. It wasn’t something that he could overcome, it felt more like something he had to run away from.

He nodded, the mention of her ghost momma, of the memory shared. He’d been sad knowing that he’d have to say goodbye to Sam, truly. He’d looked up against it even if he knew in his bones it would happen. If he were to keep Sam, Sam would never grow old. Ghosts didn’t age. He would be reminded of his dead son constantly, stuck in his youth. He knew that would’ve been worse. He knew it was better that Sam was gone. Ghost Sam that was. Because the real boy should’ve never died. He hadn’t been able to protect him, nobody had been able to save him.

He took another sip from the flask and then nodded. “Yes, those memories were a cruel trick,” he added. Cruel because his memory had been beautiful.

He studied what she pointed at, really needing to look up close because his vision wasn’t 20/20 at the moment. He’d never seen the inside of her home, but he could somehow imagine. He licked his teeth. “They look nice, and they were made on the island, I think there is no better way to decorate your home then with things from the place where you live,” he said, then sniffled, though he had no idea what about the art hurt so much.

location: the trading post @jossie-the-thief

Jupiter always liked the Bazaar in the evenings. In the dim lights there was a bustling quality, somehow even more cheerful than in the daylight. Jupiter wasn't really a big fan of 'black market' items (why it gotta be black?), it generally attracted the more unseemly people. But she had to admit there were some cool things here, sometimes very useful. Scavenged from the world - but sometimes Jupiter wondered if they were scavenged, or stolen?

Regardless, she paused by a stall that was not scavenged. It was an artist, a painter displaying their art on canvas. Scenes from Panopticon, no less, but also some other subject matters.

Jupiter stood at a distance, not wanting to engage the artist yet; instead, she spotted Jossie drifting by. "Psst! Jossie! Heyyyy how's it going?"

The last time they spoke, was during the ghosts; Jupiter could still taste the memory of that delicious drink. But also she wondered about Jossie's well-being, losing his son a second time.

"Hey, how's it going, eh? How are you?"

#thread.jupiter #jossiethreads #//he is tipsy

Jossie was great at the art of distractions. He’d been out into the world a few times, gotten some new things that he’d sold or hid in the tower. He’d visited places he hadn’t been for a long time, as if he was a backpacker in Europe again, and he’d even taken a trip to the ruins of New York. He had become a true teleport-tourist.

He hadn’t been home.

He had barely been on the island aside from his shifts.

Any place that looked remotely like his home-island was too much to be around for too long.

He was also slightly tipsy whenever he wasn’t on shift or out in the world. Relying on the local booze trade and whatever he found to trade for it to keep him from spending too much time with his thoughts.

He smiled his charming smile when Jupiter appeared, a reminder of what had happened to Sam, but one he managed to drain away as he brought his flask to his lips. “Hey Jupes,” he said, keeping a bit of a distance from her, as if she couldn’t sleep the alcohol on his breath or see the way his cheeks were red and his eyes were hazy. “I am,” he said, not adding anything to it. “How are you?”

Kaz had no real idea of what Jossie thought they were up to. And Kaz didn't need or care to know. Riding along at the end of the world was enough. Some communities cobbled together what they could while others devolved into chaotic madness. Rules disintegrated and the apocalyptic winds of the last 3 years scattered the dust until nothing was left.

Stealing lost its punch when survival forced everyone to be a thief-- in Kaz's opinion. "What did you do with a master's degree in art?" Aside from recognizing stolen paintings. Perhaps it was a speciality area of study for Jossie. Not that Kaz would know.

I want to rebuild the world at some point. Just the sort of unhinged talk Kaz loved. "Alright," Kaz started as his gaze traced the puffed graffiti and spurting dicks on the walls. "Stealing back stolen paintings. Can't even get a decent cup of coffee first, hm? In this new world." He spoke in his weighted drawl that dragged the end of his sentences like syrup dripped from a spoon.

Kaz as serious about coffee as he was 'the art police'. More pressing issues to expose. "And if the rightful owners aren't around anymore?" Again, a broken world blah blah blah. "Not that anyone can find the island at the moment, but. Most don't want it found, you know. Don't want the attention drawn to what is there, yeah?"

They moved through another door. The centerpiece of the room was shielded by glass. Inches thick glass, as Kaz examined and drummed fingers near a corner. "The fuck is this shit," his voice lowered.

He looked over the details: hieroglyphics in ochre and bright blues, dark carbon and faded white. Obvious enough yet the surroundings obscured the reason why this box was there, under glass. In a huge-ass but crumbling home. He looked through the glass to the other side where Jossie stood. "How'd you find this?"

“I worked in a museum,” Jossie answered, which was part of the answer. He wouldn’t so quickly state that he stole back art, that he used his knowledge to get in with wealthy art dealers so he could swindle them on the side. “And I helped art-collectors from time to time, that’s the best thing about old art, it doesn’t really change, not like up-and-coming art, that keeps on changing and being added to.” The static was always much more interesting to Jossie. He could master something, without ever feeling like falling behind.

“We’ll get one you on the way out,” Jossie promised. That was… if they were allowed to leave quietly. The owner of this place was no longer around, but perhaps its new owners were also territorial about their stolen wares.

He smiled, shrugged, didn’t answer the question. It could be decades before the world rebuild properly, he didn’t know if Egypt still existed, but who knew, centuries from now. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” he replied.

“It’s a chest from a Pharaoh’s thumb, I’m not sure which one, but it was stolen from the National Museum years ago, along with other treasures that have been originally stolen from Egypt during the first world war. Sadly, whomever stole it didn’t think to return it to where it came from, but it’s here now.” He tapped the glass. Didn’t look like there was still an alarm in place, but he needed to get rid of the glass without damaging the casket. “You can guess what’s in there,” he said with a wink.

He went through his hunches and grabbed the underside of the glass case, happy to find it could be lifted. “Can you get the other side?” he asked. The case was heavy, but two people was enough. “I was just spying around the rooms after we got here. Houses like this, they always have a particular layout for where the rich hid their treasures,” he said. Mostly out in the open, without shame.

#end.#thread.jupiter #jossiethreads #//they can get emotional next time ;-;#//and with they i mostly mean jossie x)

Jupiter had about a thousand more questions, but she knew now wasn't the time. Her momma would soon need Jupiter's attention again, especially if she knew her daughter was drinking and enjoying a man's attention, and Sissie couldn't.

Jossie's story with his wife (ex-wife now) was a surprisingly long tale, but one Jupiter enjoyed. "Awww, so you guys were still college age when everything ramped up! I'm sorry it didn't work out, but I do love hearing the happy beginnings.

"I mean, my show also had a cooking segment, fashion segment, it was a hodge podge of interests. But you know, I always think that if I'm a complex person with a wide rage of interests, so is every member of my audience. Something for everyone! Ohhh man. I miss my old life, not gonna lie. I try not to think about it too much, because then I'll get sad." Jupiter lifted her pine colada. "And cocktails should be making me happy! Not to mention such a nice conversation with you, Jossie."

And Jossie was so thoughtful too, playing along with her hypothetical 'art interview' for her show. She smiled warmly, nodding along. "See? You're such a good advisor, I can see why you were probably so successful at your old job."

In Jupiter's opinion, Sissie came bursting in and with her sudden change of mood, changed the whole situation. But fortunately Jossie didn't take as much umbrage with Sissie as Jupiter did; his cheeky wink went a long way to make Jupiter feel he wasn't insulted or annoyed by Sissie.

But that didn't mean Jupiter wanted the man to endure her momma any longer. Jupiter felt guilty enough for leaving her momma alone, leaving Sam with her momma...all of it. It was a lot.

"Ayo!!" Jupiter loudly sing-songed to drown out anything her momma might say to embarrass her further. She waved at Sam enthusiastically, then nodded at Jossie. Would the ghosts stay forever? Was this just how it was gonna be now? God, Jupiter hoped not.

"We'll talk later!" she called out to Jossie, but returned all her attention to her momma immediately when they left.

End!

As he walked, Kaz spun a key fob around a finger. No expectation that any car was left on the property. Not this long after the world stopped, not intact or with gas either. He felt a little disappointed-- shouldn't the key to a Lamborghini be fancier? At least the expensive name was embossed and recognizable. Some asshole back on the island would likely be willing to trade for the nostalgia. He added it to the other items already stuffed into a backpack.

When Jossie grabbed, one of Kaz's shoulders lowered to squirm out of the hold he never asked for. The smoky scent of the whiskey was easy to pick up from Jossie and the glass in their hand. Smelled nice.

"Is it stealing?" Certainly the original owner had been long gone. If not, they had shitty security and deserved a break in. "Or is it reallocating resources to those in need?"

As Jossie continued a few more questions came to mind. "Supposedly stolen?" The fuck did that mean. More importantly: why the hell did it matter now? "How d'ya know this, that it's stolen?" Dark brows knitted tight. "And? Want to call the art police or something? Don't think they're picking up the phone right now. But guess you can leave a message."

#jossiethreads #thread.kaz

Jossie grinned. It wasn't so different from how he considered his own stealing business of art back to where it belonged. Simply relocating. Though in his case it felt more like taking back what belonged to others. He didn't mind doing this together for once, after all, he was so used to doing it alone. And if putting a few trinkets here and there in his pocket would allow for him to stand on a comfortable level with Kaz, he’d gladly let his hands run.

“Ah, you’re right. Definitely relocating,” he commented, smiling.

“I have a Masters in Art,” Jossie said, as he gestured for Kaz to follow him, down the hallway to one of the bigger and more lavish rooms - or at least what was left of it. Much of the white walls were now filled with graffiti, it did give the place a better look to be sure, even if some of the drawings for just penises, as always. He could appreciate the look of a world in shambles, it had a vibrant colour to it, despite the losses.

“I want to rebuild the world at some point,” he told Kaz. “That includes stealing back stolen paintings, we can keep them safe on Pan until the rightful owners will want them back, no need to leave a message for the police.”

He gently pushed the door open, looking carefully around. Surely none of the people here would understand the value of the piece, and they wouldn’t even think about stopping two people from taking it. At least he hoped, because it wouldn’t be so easy to take it out.

In front of them, still protected by a glass case, stood a small crate, painted gold and decorated with hieroglyphics. As beautiful as the outside was, what it held was far more important to Jossie, and he was sure the Egyptian government would want it back eventually.

"Well next time there's a party, I know who to go for to get a drink...or I hope your product is as good as your presentation, anyway," Jupiter teased Jossie. She didn't intend to be so foolish around Jossie, but he really did put her at ease. Then again, Jupiter always behaved hyper around her momma.

"Oh! Um, yeah, probably but it wasn't a long vacation, so I can't say I remember words or anything. You can teach me some stuff though! Is - uh, was your wife from Aruba too? Do you mind if I ask how you two met? Sorry, I'm such a sucker for meetcute stories."

And a story from his past - hopefully a good one - was a useful way to prevent circling back to chatter about lost family. Jupiter looked out the window, where his son and Sissie were playing some sort of clapping game. Like they were almost alive. It was heart-breaking and Jupiter tore her gaze away.

"Ohhhh Mr Rogers! White guy in a red sweater, with the puppets! Aww, yeah I know Mr Rogers. Maybe he had different names depending on where you grew up," Jupiter giggled. "Awww, so cute."

As for her talkshow, she tipped her hands. "You know, hot social topics. Stuff that might offend our more conservative or religious viewers. But I argued that while my gender and the colour of my skin is simply 'a political issue' to someone, but it's so much more to the people who live in it everyday. And sometimes a black girl just wants to have fun with being black! It don't always gotta be about votes in the House of Commons, shoot! Humanize that shiz, I ain't a niche interest!" She grinned and shrugged. "I grew that show; at least I like to think I did. I guess that's why I'm trying to recreate something similar on Pan."

She giggled again. "Oooh, Jossie, you're so modest. I'm sure you would've made a great guest. Toronto's got a huge Caribbean population and...ooh! I could've done a series on indigenous artforms, and you coulda repped for Aruba! That would've been hella cool."

Jupiter was a tried and true fangirl, mostly a geeky fangirl for sci fi but celebrity fangirling segued into that, even became insidious with the rise of social media. Yet another of her topics on her show, once upon a time. Her kids told her about 'parasocial' and she'd run with it; a lot of her show ideas were thanks to her earnest kids and their earnest ways. "I was a big Grey's Anatomy fan; but yeah - Sandra Oh was amazing to interview, best laugh in the world!"

She clapped her hands in delight, sliding the colada closer and taking a sip from the straw. Jupiter leaned back, closing her eyes in pleasure. "Oooooh lord! That is good! Can I keep you? My personal cabana boy!" Okay, that was definitely her anxiety talking stupid-ass, so she took another drink. "Sorry, that was out of line but forreal - this is really good!"

"What's really good?" Sissie appeared, with Jossie's son. She eyed Jossie, suddenly cold towards him. "Juju baby, we should go, c'mon now. Enough fooling around with this boy, baby. You gonna embarrass yourself."

"Oh my god, momma!"

#jossiethreads #thread.jupiter #sounds good! and yes me too ;-;

“Even better,” Jossie replied, smiling secretively. “If I wasn’t into art, I could’ve easily made good money by being a bartender. Perhaps with my own little beach-side stand.” Though right now, that would be impossible, the island wouldn’t let him return home for long. And he didn’t think he’d hold out doing the same thing here.

“I will, gladly,” he said. He took pride in his own language, even if it contained many words from other languages, and the fact that he spoke English far more than he did Papiamento. He chuckled at the question, he hadn’t spoken about his ex-wife in a long time, he wasn’t even sure if he could bring the story with any heart. After all, they were no longer together, and now there was certainly too much grief between them. “We were classmates at high school, so we went to study in the Netherlands at about the same time,” he said, deciding he would grant Jupiter the satisfaction. “She was studying international law at the time, and a mutual friend introduced us, having no idea that we already knew each other. We only went on one date, then lost touch. I think a year or two later I needed a new second hand fridge because I was moving out of my shared apartment, and she was selling hers. We started actually dating after that, and moved back to Aruba at around the same time.”

“Ah, Rogers. See, I knew I was probably getting the name wrong,” he said, adding his chuckle to her giggle. “White guy with puppets and a red sweater, yes, as a kid I always wanted to be on his show.”

“Ah, sounds like it would’ve been my type of show.” He thought of all the great moments where he got to offend people in the Netherlands, simply because they thought he was white. At least they thought until he started talking, his accent had always been pretty clear to Dutch people. “People are easily offended,” he stated.

Jossie nodded at that, he was sure the museum would’ve loved it. Even if he was perhaps not the best guide on the premises. “I think I would’ve perhaps send another person, someone with some indigenous roots,” he admitted. “We had some amazing guides working for us. They told the stories much better than I ever could.”

He nodded along, enjoying how simply talking about famous people got Jupiter all excited, though he was much gladder to learn that she enjoyed the cocktail he made. After all, that was what a creator most liked to hear: validation for their work. And in his case: for his skill. He laughed, Cabana boy. She instantly corrected herself, as if he wasn’t gobbling it all up sentence for sentence. “Thank you.”

Sam ran towards him when the two ghosts appeared, still as tangible as before, his hands rushing to take his father’s. They were cold, but Jossie didn’t care, he was far too amused with how Sisi thought he was taking advantage of her daughter. He winked at Jupiter, as if to drive it home that maybe he was. “Did you enjoy yourself, Sam?”

“Si, papa,” the little boy said with a huge grin. “Mi ke landa.”

“Yeah? Alright, we’ll go for a swim. First say goodbye to the nice ladies.”

Sam turned, a little shy as he hung from his father’s hand. “Ayo,” he said.

"Ohhh I hope so too." Jupiter smiled at Jossie. "Thanks, honey." Any man who was a cocktail hobbyist, presumably liked to impress others with that particular skillset. Jupiter didn't mind. Passion and dedication were attractive in a man. "So what you're saying is - Panopticon should have more parties! I agree, I love parties, lotsa fun and laughs."

Jupiter took Jossie's response about his son at face value, with a nod. "Awww....we did visit some of the other neighbouring islands too! St Lucia, Curacao. Never Aruba though. Have you, um...been back? Using the teleports?"

Jupiter tilted her head. "Hmm, I'm not sure who Mr Robinson is, but more like Oprah on a way less grand scale. Talk about lifestyle, hot topics we sometimes had to fight the network for. The occasional celebrity interview for ratings. And the Christmas giveaways, it was really fun!" And she knew it sounded trite to most people, but Jupiter felt social shows were important in their own way.

She made a cooing noise as Jossie described his own job. "It sounds so exciting - see, my talkshow probably might've asked you for an interview for a career fair episode! Did you write a book or anything? We talked to a lot of authors on their promo junkets."

She nodded, laughing. "If we were lucky! Ooh, Michael J Fox! That was a big deal. And Anne Murphy - oh you night not know her, very Canadiana. Um...Sandra Oh! She was super-cool, I fangirled a lot. Almost got William Shatner but couldn't time it. I'm a huge Trekkie. Nerd alert!"

She reached forward, once Jossie was almost done with the cocktail. "Eeee, I can't wait to try this! Don't let my momma see, she'll get jealous I get to drink and she can't."

#thread.jupiter #jossiethreads

Jossie chuckled. “Not directly, but I guess any time I can make cocktails I will gladly do so,” he said. Beach parties weren’t the same without a good cocktail. And he had plenty in his arsenal beyond his signature Pina Colada.

He made a face at the mention of Curacao, he wasn’t necessarily judgemental of the island itself, but there was an intense rivalry going on between the three former-dutch colonies, the ABC islands. He’d been to Bon Aire and to Curacao, but could say with enough pride that Aruba was the best island, with the best beaches. And Papiamento sounded much better coming from an Arubian. “Ah, then you’ve heard Papiamento before, at least a version of it,” he said. “Aruba is the most beautiful island though, and I’m not just saying that because I’m from Aruba,” he assured her with a grin.

Jossie nodded. “A few times, yes, though twice I’ve been dropped in Venezuela when I tried to get to my island,” he explained. “I try to go back to see if I can help in any way, or to see my ex and my daughter.” Though of the few times, that had only happened once.

“You don’t know Mr. Robinson? Ah, perhaps I’ve gotten his name wrong. He has this very catchy song.” Jossie thought for a moment, then started to sing: “It’s beautiful day in this neighbourhood, a beautiful day for a neighbour, would you be mine? Could you be mine?” He nodded along with her explanation. “Hot topics? What kind of hot topics?”

As Jupiter continued to talk, Jossie couldn’t help but smile as if he was holding back a secret. His own - actual - career wouldn’t be something to do interviews about, but it would make for a good spy story perhaps, maybe a great movie. He’d never thought of his job as anything spectacular, but he was aware that it had to remain a secret. “It would’ve been very boring if it was just about me, but I am sure the museum would’ve loved the attention back when Aruba was a tourist hot spot.”

Jossie finished the cocktail as Jupiter spoke, still smiling and enjoying her huge excitement over all these celebrities. He’d grown up far too chill, on his little island, huge celebrities meant nothing. He’d always viewed them as normal people, even the great artists he was a fan off. Though when he’d gone into his line of work, that appreciation disappeared as well, after all, he simply looked at all of them as regular human beings with talent. It was the ancient works he became a fan of: culture. Works of art resembled culture, they were more than just someone’s artistic vision or an actor’s good work. “Those are big names,” he agreed, though he indeed had no clue who Anne Murphy was. “Sandra Oh must’ve been fun to have on the show, my ex-wife was a huge fan of that detective show she did.”

He topped the cocktail with a slice of pineapple and handed it to Jupiter. “You can say it doesn’t have any alcohol in it,” he said, as he hit the bottle of rum. “Cheers.”

"Keeping communications with anyone outside Pan is spotty at best. I've been trying, but...not a lot of luck with him or my kids." She rustled her shoulders, determined not to get morose. If she got sad, her momma might notice, then make it about herself "I briefly saw him in Toronto a few months back! But that's it. All I hope is they can hear or see my broadcast show, y'know? Since they'll never find Panopticon..."

Oops, yeah she was definitely getting maudlin. Jossie steadily led them to the little bar area in the canteen, and seemed quite comfortable getting behind the counter to grab his ingredients. He was a welcome distraction. "You do this bartending a lot? That's cute."

It looked like he was making a fresh piña colada, which made Jupiter happy. She glanced outside where Sissie was engrossed with Jossie's little boy. "You okay with them being outside? I don't wanna take you away from your little boy..." Who knew how long they all had with their ghosts? Could be a day, maybe...years? Jupiter would be glad for others, but god bless her, please not with her momma.

"Ooh Aruba! That's cool! Kirk's family is Jamaican, he grew up in Toronto but there's a huge Caribbean population in the T-Dot. To hear his parents gripe about tourists - I was like 'Momma Elys, when we visit Jamaica, I'm the tourist!' and my mom-in-law said I was an honourary island gyal. Guess I am truly an island gyal now," she giggled. "That makes you an island boy, huh? I love it."

Jossie's job sounded very lucrative, or at least very professional and Jupiter cooed. "I had a daytime tv show in Toronto, called CityUp. It was fun! But art collector, wow! That's so cultured, did you specialize in some specific kinda art? Did you hobnob with the global elite? My claim to fame is that I interviewed Keanu Reeves once - he's Canadian! So polite."

#thread.jupiter #jossiethreads

Jossie nodded, sentiments were always hard to share when he didn’t mean them, but he figured he could understand… to a point. He’d lived most of his life aboard, and especially when he’d been a student, he’d spoken to his parents once a week, heavily using the internet and phones to make sure he still had contact with the island. He’d moved back because he’d hated being so far away, even if then as well he’d spend a lot of time aboard again. “I hope they’re hearing it,” he agreed, though he understood that it wouldn’t be the same: her kids might hear her voice, but she wouldn’t hear theirs. And Jossie knew from experience that his parents had been intent on hearing his voice.

“On the island? Not as much, at home though, yes. I bring cocktails to parties, or we just have them at home,” he said with a wink. Though cute would not be the word he’d use to describe it, he felt like Jupiter was in some way distracted by thoughts of her own family, so he didn’t comment on it.

Jossie shrugged, to say ‘all is good’, for he didn’t worry that much about it all. He wanted to spend every single moment with his boy, wanted to hold him close for as long as he possibly could, but he was afraid of what else was on his mind if he was in the boy’s company for too long. He needed this break, even if he didn’t want it. “I’m okay with it.”

Kirk being Jamaican - though still, what kind of a name was Kirk - at least raised him a little in the eyes of the Arubian. The Caribbean islands were vastly different but also greatly depended on the same kind of things. “You have tourists and you have tourists, I imagine your mother-in-law had a good idea of that very vague distinction,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been an island boy, though to be one is easy with enough sunshine, sand, and seawater. The cocktails will help too.”

“A day time tv show? Wow, you were a little like Mr Robinson… I think he was called?” Cultured, he grinned. If only, his collecting was far more in the direction of reacquiring stolen works, but he didn’t say that, while he loved the image of a gentleman thief, the cultured art collector was similarly obtainable. “I did my studies in European Art, however I quickly got a taste for art from lost or destroyed civilizations, like the Aztec, the Mayans, and the many different tribes that lived all over the world. I was more of a glorified diplomat for museums all over the world than an art-historian.” Though the latter he studied for. He didn’t comment on the global elite, he had very little good to say about them, even the famous celebrities had a bad standing in his book. “Keanu Reeves, wow, John Wick himself, that must’ve been a big deal. Any other famous Canadians who walked down your door?”

@kazxraval

Jossie grabbed Kaz' shoulders as they made their way through the formerly billionaire's mansion. He had a glass of what might be someone's hundred year old whiskey in his hand. This small outing was proving to be incredibly interesting, nobody seemed to utter too many questions about two strangers from out of town, and from this perspective the end of the world didn't look all that bad.

But watching formerly poor people eat the life style of the rich could get pretty old pretty fast. There were far too many places like these around the world, people who could accept that the world had ended either lend towards the: we should rebuild or we should fuck around. This was the latter crowd.

"I know I said we were here to relax and perhaps steal a few trinkets," he began, trying to sound diplomatic. "But I may have spotted a particular piece of art that supposedly got stolen two decades ago."