just kidding

i'm jack and i'm just kidding // bio // nav

[jxckdaley]

noahfischcr‌:

“Patti Harrison.” Noah said the name, desperate to remember it. “All honesty, you’re the only political podcast comedy thingamabob I actually follow now, so I’ve, uh, gotta look her up. She do comedy? Good on her.” Hard enough getting into the comedy scene, from what he understood, being queer. Even worse to be divergent in other ways. Good on her.

He did glance over at the comment Jack made about homeless jokes, quirking a brow. “I’m, uh, actually glad you said that.” He chuckled. “I’ve been homeless before, so sometimes it just…the jokes come out. Gotta deal with the trauma and shit somehow, you know? If you hadn’t said anything, I probably would’ve said something shitty later on.”

If there had been any potential awkwardness, it seemed to be gone, and Noah drummed his fingers on his leg for a second before he sat forward. “All right, question, are we gaming sober or high?” He grinned at Jack. “You get to pick today.”

“The best comedy. She says some of the grossest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s legendary,” Jack said, and it was true. If there was anything he appreciated in his life, it was good comedy. People funnier than him were always the people he’d think were cool, no matter who they were.

When Noah told Jack that he’d been homeless, Jack felt his whole body clench up. It was probably easy to see from the expresison on Jack’s face, one of pain and hurt. “I’m happy you aren’t homeless anymore,” Jack said, his mind full of anger at the systems in place that allowed Noah to ever not have a safe place to sleep. He knew if he thought about it too deeply he’d see red, so he took a few deep breaths, “And you can joke about anything with me, even if it’s stuff like that. You’re allowed to bring levity to whatever you want. I mostly don’t like people being ignorant, calling people crackheads or whatever. But you’re entitled to your own experiences. That’s how I’ve always felt.” He didn’t mean to ramble, but sometimes the podcaster in him came out. He also didn’t mean to be so serious, but thankfully Noah came in and broke any tension.

Jack took a few deep breaths, and managed one of his usual stupid smiles. “High, always,” he said, pulling out the necessary paraphernalia from his pocket, “I swear it makes my reflexes better.”

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

“night club, spaceship. similar vibe, i think,” solomon said with another little shrug - kinda funny, seeing jack so stoked about a couple’a lights. they were definitely a bit cool, even solomon had to admit. the pink was a laugh - reminded him of some trendy film he’d probably seen an age ago. bit cool, really. 

solomon’s nostrils flared with a short intake of breath, turning quickly into a laugh when jack flicked on some music. “mate…” he said, muffling his laugh into his glass, taking a sip to hide his grin. he didn’t recognise the music - sounded like some trendy teen shit some of the casuals tried to play sometimes. wasn’t really his bag - bit old for all that, or something.

he’d watched from under lowered brow as jack had quiet brazenly inserted himself into solomon’s personal space. solomon made no move to stop him, just watched as he roved closer and closer until suddenly he was right there, almost close enough to feel his breath. solomon just stood, quiet. watching, cataloguing - he still wasn’t quite sure on the angle jack was playing. maybe some sort of gay chicken, or just him joking around. there were a few possibilities - solomon was honestly quite interested in finding out which bloody one it was. 

“very fun. s’got matchin’ stockings and everything,” solomon drawled - clearly telling a bit of a fib, if his stupid little grin was anything to go by. solomon gravitated towards jack when he headed off - he trailed behind a bit but he kept up, settling in the doorway of the bathroom, shoulder propped against the doorway. 

“you do this a lot, eh? invite weird blokes back to your flat t’watch you patch yourself up after gettin’ the snot kicked outta ya?”

Jack looked at himself in the mirror, studying the forming bruise on his cheekbone. He cleaned his nose up quickly as the bleeding had stopped and thankfully nothing was broken (lucky for him, considering it was the second time he’d been clocked in the face in a week.) His lip was still the most tender, probably due to the exposure of his mouth, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

He turned to Solomon, crossing his arms, still in his too-tight jacket. He looked down at his legs, visible since he was in shorts, and shrugged with a smile.

“Can’t say I do,” Jack said, “Blokes. Weird or otherwise.” He looked up at Solomon, winking an eye for awhile, as if he was trying to focus on the man better.

“What about you?” he said, grin subsiding slightly, “You come up to weird guy’s apartments often to enjoy mood lighting? Or something else?”

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

solomon nodded to himself, eyes flickering around to examine his surrounds rather than following jack to the drinks cart. jesus. it was a pretty nice place - a lot nicer than his, in all honesty. still felt quite homey, though, nicely lived in. sometimes nice apartments were ruined a bit by that minimalist impersonal bullshit. 

“make it mostly gin, if you could,” solomon added - not too much of a tall order, he thought. it were a decent enough bottle, he thought, from the glimpse he got. a london gin - reassuring. american gins really didn’t do it for him.

solomon shed his blazer with a shrug, slinging it over the arm of the nearby sofa, fingers popping the buttons on his shirt wrists. he rolled the sleeves up as he continued to peer around, head turning at the sound of jack’s voice. he nodded a bit, even though jack probably couldn’t see him, meandering a little closer to call back. 

“got a team in, eh? i’d do the same. i can’t decorate for shit,” solomon mused. that much were true - other than the skeins of photos on his walls and a couple of well-loved house plants, solomon’s house didn’t really have much by way of interior design. he didn’t really mind, though - weren’t like many other people saw it. suited him and the dogs well enough, so that was all he really needed. 

“s’cool. feels like i’m in a bloody night club,” he joked, taking the glass from jack when he padded over to him. he nodded his thanks, taking a short sip, kissing his teeth a moment later against the tart bite of the gin. good stuff. a smile curled solomon’s mouth when jack fiddled with the lights - the change in colour made him chuckle, supping at his drink again before speaking. 

“you do this to all your house guests? get the mood light goin’?” solomon teased, eyeing jack over the rim of his glass. he caught the wince when jack smiled - a flash of discomfort across his features more than easy to read. 

“probably should. you want me to play nurse? would’a bought my costume if i’d known - me bedside manner ain’t bad, i promise.”

“Night club? Damn. I was goin’ for spaceship,” Jack said, laughing at the ground. Solomon must’ve thought he was a huge nerd by now, so he figured there was no point in trying to pretend he was cooler than he was. The truth was all he had, at the end of the night.

His eyes flicked back up to Solomon’s playfully, smirk teasing his mouth. “Now that you mention it,” Jack affirmed Solomon’s joking suspicions, proto-ironically, “But usually I do a little bit of this too if I’m setting the mood.” Jack, again from his phone, started playing music from the speakers in his living room; genre something close to chill anime beats.

At some point he’d walked quite close to Solomon, he wasn’t sure when--the bubble was popped, only slightly. Wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Jack was very much in Solomon’s face. In a way. He took a swig from his beer.

“Seems fun,” Jack said, heading for the bathroom, the space between them both a relief and a travesty, “But I’m sure I could handle it. Feel free to keep me company, though.” Jack left the bathroom door open, the lights still pink everywhere he walked in the house. In the mirror there was the usual: antiseptic, bandages, the shebang. Jack started by cleaning his lip tenderly in the mirror with alcohol, glancing for Solomon in the mirror. Some part of Jack was feeling... brave tonight. But he still wasn’t sure what he might do.

[angelic-breeze-deactivated20191]

[jxckdaley]

camelliapatton‌:

Cam was right — her aim really was that good. Her elbow landed square on his nose and she heard him swore, hands clutching at his bloodied face. A couple of dramatic gasps came from the few customers around them, but that was to be expected, considering she did just ram him in his face. After that, it was supposed to be smooth sailing, right out the door, to her freedom, before he or the cashier could call the cops and get her arrested for… assault or robbery or disturbing the peace (she’d seen it all). 

What she didn’t expect, however, was for the underpaid dumb-fuck monkey employee to mop the floors twenty minutes before she’d walked in, and for them to actually be a dumb-fuck and not put up a ‘wet floor’ sign. Any well-meaning, inattentive person would have skidded right into the next bookshelf, and that’s what Cam did. She lost her footing and slipped right to the ground, the contents of her tote bag spilling onto the floor. Amongst a bunch of crumpled receipts, rolling papers, and little baggies was one rectangular hard case, one that she’d adamantly maintained she didn’t have on her. 

She looked up, hoping that maybe he was too busy nursing his nose that he wouldn’t see it, but the chances of that were slim. She’d taken quite the spill, knocking over a rotating book rack on her way down, and everyone’s eyes were on her now, with her face planted on the linoleum, legs splayed amongst fallen books. She groaned, lifting herself up off the ground, hurriedly shoving the upturned contents of her bag back into it. 

Karma apparently was real. Or at least that’s what Jack figured when, despite being dazed from the elbow to the face, Cam took a spill herself, the contents of her bag flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of a movie, and slowly Jack moved to pick up his Nintendo from where it lied on the ground, his hand grazing the woman’s in his capture.

“Tell me that bit again about how you have no idea what I’m talking about,” Jack joked with a serious face, turning his system around to inspect any possible damage.

He looked around at the store which was all staring at him and Cam by now. His head hurt like hell now, and he didn’t really like having all these eyes on him, but he figured he’d say what he wanted to say anyway.

“I dunno what your fuckin’ deal is,” Jack said, his Philly accent coming on strong, “But you’re lucky I hate cops as much as I do. Stop fuckin’ stealing from people or at least...” Jack fumed, looking for a way to say it. “Steal from assholes and not me.” He figured that was good enough. Surely there must have been some reason this girl needed money, and even though he was pissed, Jack still had empathy for that more than anything. It could be hard to make a buck in this world.

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

“good. well, that’s all i need. on ya go, then,” solomon said, gesturing forward with a half-hearted sweep of one hand. he sauntered after jack - paid to reason this bloke lived in the middle of the bloody town. seemed his sort of gig - all the nearby bars and what not. solomon had grown a bit tired of city life, despite being raised in one - he didn’t really mind that where he lived now was almost a commute to his shop. it were nice, living out of the more metropolitan areas - his neighbourhood seemed quiet as a grave compared to all this. 

the walk was short, thankfully. quiet, too, both stuck to themselves. solomon ended up smoking a cigarette while they walked, just to have something to do - he’d prerolled himself a few so as not to tote his gear around with him. he’d kept them in a battered looking cigarette case in the pocket of his jacket - a gift received long ago, from someone he couldn’t quite remember. might’ve been an old flatmate. whatever. 

“i might be old but my legs still bloody work,” solomon protested, tossing his mostly-smoked cigarette into a nearby garbage bin before they headed inside. he didn’t say much else on the subject, though, just riding the elevator on up. jack must’ve made a fair bit of coin with this whole podcast gaffe - his place was certainly a lot nicer than solomon’s. all the mod-bloody-cons going on there. 

“you’re a bit posh, ain’t ‘cha?” solomon murmured, half to himself as the lights went up, all mood lit and what have you. he glanced around a moment, taking things in before finally settling back on jack when the man spoke. 

“just ice an’ a slice if you’ve got it, pet. maybe a bit’a soda water. s’all i really need,” solomon said. “maybe save a bit of that ice for your head, eh? probably good to get sommat on there ‘fore it turns purple.” 

Was Jack Daley posh? No. He just liked sci-fi lighting. And had girls decorate his apartment, thank god. He felt secure in that, however, so the comment rolled off his shoulders like it was nothing. He nodded at Solomon’s drink order.

“Should be easy enough,” Jack said, heading for the bar cart. (Every apartment should have a bar cart, that’s what one of the girls he dated said and he took her word for it.) He started working on Solomon’s drink before heading for the fridge to get the supplemental materials.

“I can’t take credit for how my place looks,” Jack called from the kitchen, letting Solomon have his way of the place, “But admittedly the lighting was me. Gotta have some fun, right?” Jack felt like his show of wealth was relatively modest compared to other people’s.

He finished up Solomon’s drink and brought it to him, sipping on a beer he’d taken from the fridge himself. He still didn’t tend to his bleeding face, but he didn’t really feel it. “Check this out,” Jack said, pulling out his cellphone and the app that controlled the lights in his house, changing the colors from amber to a neon pink--a color that looked good on him, he thought. He smiled up at Solomon, before wincing at the pain the smile caused in his lower lip. “Should fix this,” he murmured, sipping his beer. 

[human-analog]

Visit Original Link

If ya soul intact, let me know

[jxckdaley]

henry-francis‌:

“And rugby players wear, what? A mouthguard. Odd choice for a country not known for dental hygiene but not the point. American’s are weak,” Hank said the last sentence in a baby voice, holding back the ear to ear grin. “Never really took to rugby though, they’re vicious. I couldn’t be that mean.” 

They had to ask these boring questions, it was part of life, but it was the way Jack was asking him. Leaving Hank feeling like he was in some interview he wanted no part of. So when Jack said ‘no more boring questions’ Hank scrunched his face, not quite agreeing and almost giving a silent apology. 

He had to flag the waitress back down to get some milk for his tea, almost certain she left thinking he was insane. Idly keeping his hands warm on the mug, Hank listened. 

“And so I assume you’ve moved here for easier access to the rich?” he said, raising an eyebrow as far up as he could. It seemed kind of strange to move someplace filled with people one was against. 

Able, now, to prepare his tea, Hank focused on that after a quiet ‘thank you’ to the waitress when she brought the milk. “How does one land in that career?” Stopping everything, he looked up at Jack. This time the apology was clear on his face. That and a little panic. “Not saying anything against it, of course, just sincerely wondering how people end up there. It’s certainly not an option presented to us in school.” 

“Remind me not to invite you to any MMA matches,” Jack said--it was definitely a brutal thing to watch, but Jack figured he needed more bang for his buck since it was the only sport he followed.

Jack ordered breakfast as she returned with Hank’s refills--hash browns, eggs, toast, bacon. Refreshing and easy. “Something like that,” Jack said vaguely about why he moved to Lakeham, another subject he didn’t really feel like broaching, but would if Hank was interested.

He laughed as Hank asked him how he got here. “I wanted to do stand-up... but I didn’t do great with crowds. But I... kinda got lucky on the internet and got a weird following and, I dunno. Podcast seemed the way to go. Some people I knew were making money off that--and then streaming, you know. People make a lot of money on twitch, too. It’s kind of an online news show, I guess,” Jack said, squinting and hoping that description didn’t make him sound too much like Alex Jones.

“I’m pretty far into the left-wing but I talk to all kind of people on my show,” he continued, not meaning to talk so much, “But if I think they’re an asshole I’ll give them the what-for, you know. I’m not trying to give a platform to psychos.”

[jxckdaley]

noahfischcr‌:

Jack was thoughtful in a way that Noah didn’t quite expect. Perhaps he should have. But he’d learned long ago that it was best to anticipate the worst and be pleasantly shocked by receiving something different. Still, that offer to let Noah give Jack resources to study instead rather than exhausting himself with explanations? Touching.

“I don’t like educating most people.” He paused. “But I like you, so. You get a pass.” His lips quirked. “I’ll make you a deal. If you start tiring me out or frustrating me, I’ll make you a handwritten list of all my favorite sites and videos.” He tapped his knee lightly against Jack’s leg again. “And I’ll send you all my favorite small queer comedians so you can boost them if you ever listen and like their shit. Better an effect than you’d think it’d be.”

The further question made Noah slouch, really taking the time to consider it. “…never…refer to me as being different from most guys. As if I need some qualifier to be fully a dude.” He glanced over. “I’ve got a dick, just like you - you don’t need to worry about, like, if you can’t joke about dick jokes or something with me, you know what I mean? Call it a dick, that’s what it is.” Something else occurred to him, and he made a contemplative sound. “This one’s maybe a little weird to you, but like. Don’t…make tiny dick jokes around me or anything, like, suggesting that if somebody’s got a small dick they’re not a real man, or that if someone’s being a misogynistic asshole it’s because they’re making up for having next to no cock. It’s not cool. Dick size doesn’t mean shit about if somebody’s a dude or not, and if someone’s being misogynistic or something we need to call it that instead of pretending they’re not, and, uh…yeah. I’m rambling.”

Noah took another long sip of water. “I’m, uh. I’m grateful you’re listening. Learning. Seriously. Thank you, dude.”

Listening, Jack leaned into the couch. He did like to learn, at the end of the day--he’d just never done well in classroom settings. There was too much of an audience, so he had the tendency to goof off. Stuff like this, talking one on one, was much better for him. He was happily surprised that Noah liked him--maybe his record wasn’t so “problematic” after all. What a relief.

“Yeah definitely send me comics. I’m trying to get a good roster going. I did just have Patti Harrison on the show last month, she’s trans. She’s the funniest person I’ve ever met, I swear to god,” Jack reveled. She really was something.

Jack nodded. Losing small dick jokes wasn’t a huge loss. Jack preferred the self-deprecating small dick jokes but either way he could cut it from his comedy vocabulary around his friend--like he said, Jack didn’t want to participate in microaggressions.

“You’re not rambling, we all have our shit,” Jack said, “I don’t like being called a bum or homeless jokes or whatever. That’s my thing. And  I don’t tend to rely on small dick jokes.”

Jack just waved dismissively at being thanked for listening. In his mind, it was the least he could do.

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

solomon chewed the inside of his cheek a moment, muscle flexing in his jaw before he forced himself to still the absent gesture. he kept his hands shoved in his pockets to stop himself from coddling his bloody beard, eyes flickering from the pavement to jack then back again, watching where they were going. 

“sounds like a real sweetheart,” solomon noted drolly. “maybe you should’a called in some back up, eh? ‘stead of takin’ one for the team.”

solomon fell into step beside jack after a few moments, tails of his blazer pushed back by the hands in his trouser pockets. his eyes flickered upwards, away from the path ahead and towards jack’s face when he mentioned drinking at his place - huh. alright then. 

“could do,” he mused, meeting jack’s gaze, eyes angled up a little due to the slight difference in height. it were enough to be noticeable - he was sure jack had catalogued that pretty early on. some blokes seemed to take being taller than solomon as some sort of victory - he didn’t think jack was the type, but you never knew. 

“yeah, alright. might as well, eh? y’got ice at home? and gin?”

Jack smiled a hidden smile forward as he walked in front of Solomon as the man agreed to his offer. Okay. Maybe Jack wasn’t bad at making friends in real life, or something.

“Gin and ice. Yes.” Gin wasn’t his favorite but he had a bottle of it sent to him by a fan--and Jack didn’t believe in throwing anything away. Turns out it did come in handy. Jack’s place wasn’t far as the pair of them were downtown. He’d picked an apartment central to all the good bars for that reason; he didn’t want to have to travel too far, though he did like that place out of town a bit with the patio. And the spot by the beach. Really, Jack just liked any bar.

“Good thing we weren’t that far,” Jack said, pointing up at his building as they rounded a corner. “Don’t worry, I have an elevator in my building.” Jack was no stranger to an eight flight walk-up. But he was living large now, as it were.

The inside of Jack’s apartment was dimly lit, but the lights warmed up as soon as the pair of them entered. The only thing Jack really had to treat himself to was the lighting of his apartment; every lamp was a smart lamp. They had motion controls, or timers, or both, but either way, one could always expect quite a scene when inside Jack’s apartment as far as the lights went. Right now they were at a soft amber along the tops of the walls.

“Just gin? Admittedly I’m not great at mixing drinks,” Jack said, poking at his lip but deciding it didn’t need immediate first-aid. Or maybe Solomon could help him, Jack hoped somewhere in the back of his head.

[jxckdaley]

henry-francis‌:

“I would think the only way, at this point, to prove your side would be to show me,” Hank said with a mischevious smile. Acting like he couldn’t believe Jack’s standpoint on the issue. Feeling comfortable, not overthinking every word he said, and acting like himself. It was nice. 

“You can’t judge the whole sport by a couple blokes with flopping problems!” Waving his hand in the air as he ranted, getting just a little too passionate about the subject but this was Hank’s sport. Possibly the only interest that had stuck with him his whole life. So if teasing and harassing was Hank being closer to himself, this passion about football was completely him being himself. “And the American’s wear so many pads they couldn’t hurt anything. Like playing wrapped in pillows!” 

Sitting down and making himself comfortable, Hank ordered some tea. Really needed to emphasize how British he was right now (even knowing he’d not like the generic tea the diner offered). He crossed this hands as they lay on the table, looking at Jack intensely. Things had gone back to some job interview and that wasn’t half as fun. “What do you do? What’s your profession?” 

Jack snorted at the friendly soccer banter--he liked a well-meaning argument for fun. “The boys need pads if they’re ramming their skulls together,” Jack laughed before lowering his voice, playing at conspiratorial, “Though in all honestly, I don’t think the pads help much.”

Jack smiled as Hank ordered tea. “That’s cute, man,” he said, before catching the glance that Hank gave him over his job. “All right, all right,” he said with a laugh, “No more boring questions. I got you.”

He sipped his coffee, looking at the waitress as she brought Hank back his tea. “I have a podcast,” Jack said, knowing full well how obnoxious it sounded. He just hoped that maybe Hank would think it was a podcast in the prestigious, NPR way and not the rambunctious soundcloud/patreon way.

“I do a live call-in show where people call and talk about politics,” he said, “Just interviewing normal people around the country. Getting their takes on things. Instead of all the yuppie sock puppets mainstream news puts up.” Jack knew he sounded a bit conspiratorial, but in truth he was nothing of the sort. He was a cold-hard-fact kind of person, despite all his editorializing.

“It’s a bit of an eat-the-rich vibe,” Jack said, trying to downplay his own success with it as much as possible. Hopefully Hank didn’t ask--Jack didn’t feel comfortable with his own income.

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

solomon didn’t miss the movement of jack’s mouth, but he certainly didn’t comment on it. he narrowed his eyes just a touch but that was all he did - he wasn’t about to bring anything up when the kid had a face like a bit of tenderised steak. 

“it’s a figure of speech,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes - ah, there was jack. solomon was almost used to it now, though. he found that a bit surprising, but he supposed it was some ‘adapt or die’ thing happening. move over bear grylls. “take your pick, though. personally i might prefer the face - s’not half bad when it’s quiet. and not beat all to hell.” 

solomon let jack go, hands tucking back into the pockets of his trousers. he blinked as jack puffed on one of those tiny vapes - bit silly looking, he thought - careful of the split in his lip. “he also didn’t get his ass handed to him in a bar by what i imagine was some neo-yuppie,” solomon half-taunted in reply. 

he snorted at the mention of a lifetime ban - typical. wasn’t the first place jack had mentioned being banned from - solomon was quick to believe it wouldn’t be the last, either. 

“i don’t think you’ll be gettin’ into any bars with your face like that, pet,” solomon answered, starting after jack after a moment. “might be best if you went home, eh? cleaned yourself up.” 

Jack caught the compliment and this time chose not to respond to it--just smiled demurely, then scrunched up his nose into a cute grimace. Sweet words met with sweet facial expressions, Jack slid along the sidewalk.

“He was definitely a neo-yuppie. Like, for sure a Never-Trump Republican. Arguably the most dense motherfuckers on the planet,” Jack spoke with conviction, but humor as well, “Who wears a tie to a fuckin’ dive bar man? These debate club freaks are all over this state, I swear.” Jack didn’t mind digging into people, considering he’d just had a physical altercation with one. 

“Nepotism drives me crazy, man,” he said, punctuating the phrase with a little laugh.

He nodded, slowing his walk at Solomon’s words. “Guess I’ll head for my house then. I have drinks there if you want?” he said as casually as possible, as if it was just a pit stop and not the final destination.

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

to say solomon was a little taken aback by jack’s appearance when he finally clapped eyes on the man’s face was a bit of an understatement. he didn’t quite recoil, but it was close - jack was looking a little worse for wear, blood dripping from his nostrils, cheek red. there was going to be a big stonking bruise there soon enough, solomon was sure - he’d worn a few in his time. 

“fuckin’ ‘ell,” solomon said, brows drawing low for a moment. he squinted at jack’s nose in the half-light, head cocking a bit - least that didn’t look broken, to the best of solomon’s knowledge. he’d been a bit of a fisticuffs sort of guy in his time - he liked to think age had mellowed him a bit. or at least made his self-control a little stronger. everyone and their bloody mother knew solomon had a short fuse, so the fact he’d learnt to control it somewhat was something to be thankful for. no more hauling himself home with a blackening eye and nostrils plugged with dried blood. 

“you walk into a door or sommat?” solomon asked after a moment, eyes falling to the split in jack’s lower lip. they lingered a moment, examining the gash before dripping back up his face. 

“y’didn’t think to protect the goods, eh?” he continued his questioning. he was far more talkative after a few drinks - while he felt slightly deflated now, the high of the meeting tarnished a bit, he was still pretty chipper. 

“thought you philly blokes were all about fightin’. or are ya gonna tell me that i should see the other guy?”

Jack just kept on grinning like a goober, even as Solomon recoiled to him. Jack was used to being grimaced at in some manner or other. He did notice Solomon’s eyes look his face over, so he took the time to lick and bite at his swollen lip gently, clearing his throat after.

“My face is the goods huh?” he replied, playing the phrase incredulously, “Thought it was my razor sharp wit.”

He pulled out of Solomon’s grasp to lean on a nearby street post, tucking his hands into the pocket of his jacket. The elbows tightened--the reason Jack had probably lost that fight was because his jacket fit too snug in the arms. It made him look good, but didn’t give him much range of motion. At least his arms looked big, anyway.

“Doesn’t mean we’re about winnin’,” Jack replied, “Rocky lost in the first movie, man.” He smiled, juuling again, his mouth still curved up at the sides as he blew out the vapor.

“This bar’s out though. Think he’s serious about the lifetime ban,” Jack said, hinting that he had been to this venue many times before and had wound up on the sidewalk before, too, “But I do owe you one, huh. Let’s go up the block.” Thankfully this little part of Lakeham was cozy, and there were a couple good spots to find a drink. Jack lifted himself forward, breezing past Solomon to the next bar, tilting his head in the direction he was walking.

[solomonemsworth]

closed starter for @jxckdaley​ downtown 10:45pm. 

solomon was feeling good - riding high. a dinner meeting with a possible investor at thai terrace. it felt good having someone genuinely interested in supporting his business - a way to get josh off his back, to buy the chunk his ex-husband owned back without completely bankrupting himself. the woman was nice, too - older woman, originally from new orleans. had one of those reassuring deep woman voices - a different accent to his mother’s, but somewhat reminiscent. it were early days, yet - just preliminary talks, solomon giving her the rundown on his plans for the future. expanding the roastery, different blends. all that jazz. 

solomon shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he walked - man had gone all out for the evening, wearing one of the suits he kept tucked in the back of his wardrobe. he’d wanted to make a good impression - nothing too incredibly formal, of course. just tidy. smart, professional - all the things solomon probably wasn’t. he shot a quick glance around before he crossed the road, jaywalking quite happily towards a nearby bar. he needed another drink - a proper little celebratory number just for him. 

as he stepped onto the curb his eyes caught on a familiar figure - even from the back it were easy enough to recognise jack. the bloke definitely dressed in his own particular fashion - easy enough to spot amongst the foot traffic and smokers who’d slipped out to stand outside the bar and have a chuff. a momentary smile touched solomon’s mouth - ah, the perfect opportunity to get himself a free drink. maybe. if he were lucky. 

“hey mate,” solomon greeted, quite cheerful for him as he sauntered up behind jack, hand slipping from his pocket to clap over jack’s shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze and giving him a little shake. he’d had a drink or two with dinner - not enough to get him feeling any sort of way, but enough to pick up his mood a bit. that, combined with what he felt was quite the successful meeting left solomon feeling quite smiley. weird. 

[jxckdaley]

Jack didn’t mean to get into so many fights. Something about the way he was raised, or where he was raised caused this kind of behavior. Jack was sure someone online could boil it down to toxic masculinity, but it wasn’t all Jack’s fault. He just... got pissed off, sometimes.

Usually he deflected with humor, which he had honestly attempted at the beginning of tonight’s encounter. A deprecating wisecrack at the right person (a dumb person) might go unnoticed, and Jack could make them laugh without making them realize Jack had proven himself superior. But tonight wasn’t that person; tonight it was someone who knew exactly what Jack meant by his little “joke”. And that person was just as hot-headed as he.

It was some dude in a suit; a hotshot lobbyist of the nepotism variety, with a benz and a class ring. But even the most seemly people could snap with the right pressure in the right place--something Jack was very apt at detecting quickly. God if he didn’t love to get a rise out of someone. Just usually he was protected by being behind a screen.

So the fight had ensued. So Jack had lost the support of the crowd and been kicked up. So what? Certainly wasn’t the first bar he’d been kicked out of, and Jack couldn’t imagine it was the last.

He fished around for his juul, taking a few puffs of it on the sidewalk through a busted lip, posing at his bruised cheekbone and bleeding nose to make sure nothing had broken. His clothes were a bit haggard but thankfully nothing had torn--still, he looked a little tossed around.

A familiar arm looping around to pat him on the shoulder made him wince a bit, but looking over he saw Solomon, which honestly helped with the pain.

“Hey, man,” Jack said, just a hint of drunk on his voice, “Nice seeing you here.”

[jxckdaley]

henry-francis‌:

“Awww,” Hank hummed in mock offense. “I could go to the corner shop right now and buy five different types of pretzels and I’m sure they’d all taste just fine. But, come on then, what’s so special about the ones from Philadelphia?” 

Hank was fine busting Jack for being so passionate about pretzels of all things but it didn’t mean he wanted to be a complete jerk about it. So he hoped asking further about them showed he was just messing around. And had no real stake in this conversation. 

“Football as in real football,” he said with just a little too much offense. “I don’t even have to go on about not using feet or anything like that. Just the simple fact that it has to be called ‘American football’ says it all. It’s just you lot that have a hard time with names….and the metric system.” 

It hit Hank how easy this conversation was coming this time around as he opened the door to the diner for Jack. Last time it was awful, Hank wanted to flee the state, but this wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great, they were still feeling each other out and Hank could feel that between them but he didn’t want to run. In fact, he wanted them to both keep mocking each other’s preferences and talking about things they loved. 

Jack smiled. “Well they’re the big pretzels. It’s just like eating dough. Maybe they’re just as good anywhere else but I know for sure they aren’t like the crunchy little guys at the gas station. I’ll show you sometime.” If Hank was interested in being his friend still. Things seemed to be going well. 

He had to snicker at the notation of real football. It wasn’t an argument Jack cared much about--the only sport he really watched was MMA--but it was nice to bust the guy a little bit. He followed him into the diner and sat down at a booth with ease.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “Americans can’t read. You keep on enjoying your sport where all the guys cry over a twisted ankle.”

“I’m just kiddin’.” He felt like he had to say it, and nodded appreciatively at the waitress pouring him coffee. He was gonna need a lot of it today.

“So the library, huh? How’s it workin’ there?” Again here came interviewer Jack--but he couldn’t help it.

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

solomon smiled a touch at the press of a crisp note into the tip jar - that was always nice to see. he appreciated it, really - it was a good supplement to the staff’s income. solomon paid as best he could, better than most did, but the tips always helped. he gave jack a little nod of thanks, though said nothing of it. he had to keep some air of bastard. 

“good. i’d hate to have to chat to you about that,” he joked, supping at his own tea again, slowly beginning to ease into cleaning the machine. it were a weekday, at least - deep cleans only happened after the weekend, so he was spared all the endlessly finicky unscrewing and scrubbing and soaking. 

solomon’s gaze shifted back to jack again when he spoke, one brow kinking up. he seemed to be awful good at cutting things short and ducking out, that jack. solomon wondered, briefly, if perhaps he’d made jack a little to uncomfortable. it were possible, he mused. or maybe jack had better things to do - solomon didn’t blame him. sitting around talking to a grouchy old pom probably wasn’t at the top of his list of things to do. surely there were more yuppies out there, waiting to be harassed. 

“yeah, alright, mate. maybe if you’re lucky, eh?” solomon joked, lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave before jack was off, striding out the door, that round little arse disappearing off into the sunset. 

jack weren’t that bad, really. decent enough to talk too, knew when to make his escape. solomon didn’t mind seeing him go. certainly didn’t mind watching him leave, either. 

end.

[jxckdaley]

solomonemsworth‌:

solomon was a bit pleased with himself, really, seeing the reaction he garnered from jack. he didn’t think that happened too often - bloke seemed to have a witty one liner or some silly quip to fire back in any situation. other than this one, clearly. it may have puffed solomon’s pride a little, shined his bloody buttons and all. he wouldn’t admit it, though - it was a bit low of him, really. making possibly bicurious men vaguely uncomfortable was like shooting fish in a barrel. he were quite the pretty fish, though. 

“tends to be, pet. give ‘er a minute, eh? keep ya taste buds,” solomon said drily, hiding the curl of his mouth somewhat with a sip of his own tea, carefully blown on. he shook his head when jack began scrabbling in his wallet, flapping a hand. 

“nah. don’t worry about it. just don’t go tellin’ the whole neighbourhood - can’t have ‘em thinkin’ i’m the kinda man who gives out freebies.” 

as much as he complained about people thinking him a bastard, he did like it a bit. lowered expectations. 

“yeah? right, well. might hold you to that, then. s’hard out here, runnin’ a business.” solomon wasn’t really much of barfly, not any more - useful thing to note, though. never could say no to a free drink. 

Jack shrugged and took the fiver back he’d offered to Solomon, only to stick it in the tip jar instead.

“Don’t worry, I won’t have anyone thinking better of you,” Jack teased, his eyes dancing, a little bit from how much he was enjoying spending time here and a little bit from the anxiety. Though it seemed he’d won Solomon over. Maybe.

“Well,” he murmured, smiling down at his drink, “I’ll let you guys get to it. Maybe I’ll see you again out there, in the world.” He shrugged. “Could be fun.”

That’s where Jack decided to leave it--no promises of anything. Just the suggestion. Maybe it would pay off later. He finished his tea and headed for the exit with a little wave at Solomon.