Jarrett wasn’t sure he’d fallen for anyone so quickly before in his life, but this guy was gorgeous, and look at them eyes. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He’d been alone for so long, because he had no choice. First, it was everyone’s emotions being too loud, being unable to block them meant he couldn’t be around people, and after his years in isolation with the man who’d taught him control, he went straight to the Marines, baptism by fire to test out his ability to keep control of himself, really. If he couldn’t handle himself in a warzone, he couldn’t handle himself in regular life.
It had worked somehow, but he’d never done much more than his job over there, made friends because he was just that sort of guy, who’d always make friends, always make everyone feel as good as they possibly could, but things had been so hard over there. Terror hung over the entire nation, a heavy thing that made just walking down the street feel like slogging through 2 feet of molasses. It was almost enough to do his head in, but fate had other plans, and had taken his leg. Jarrett had perpetually drowned in his own sorrow for almost a year as he learned how to live as three quarters of a man.
Before he can stop himself, he’s latching onto the happiness he feels pouring off the other man and puts it on like a coat, changes it ever-so-slightly to give them both more comfort. "Yeah, she basically took me in after I got done with basic trainin’ down here. Yelled at me in Creole for thinkin’ I should just live in my truck til I shipped out, made me sleep in her guest room. She’s a great lady. Prob’ly one’ve the best damn cooks in New Orleans, too.” He chuckled, opening the passenger side door of the car as they came to it, “C'mon, I ain’t goin’ to Heloise’s in uniform, she’d kill me, gotta head back to the station to change real quick."
Jarrett still didn’t know what sort of shifter Rufus was, but he had a hunch, "Do I need to roll down your window so ya can stick your head out?” He’s laughing, buckling himself in and turning on the radio–A Flock of Seagulls, perfect, one of his favorite bands.
Learning a little about Jarrett's past brings mixed feelings; it's hard --- he knows --- living from day to day without knowing if there was going to be a roof over your head. Being a stray. Jarrett had lived a bit of that life and Rufus was sad for it, sad to know that he suffered after serving like so many others. Somehow, though, it was also a comfort; they had it in common. Rufus found it hard to relate to others when it came to a lot of things. He'd never understand the basic training or the serving itself; human wars were beyond him. Humans scrambled for money and power and whatever else they could hold over others and Rufus couldn't wrap his head around it --- not when there were things such as warm beds and good meals to be had in the world. He lived simply. Thought simply, a lot of the time. The money. The power. Those weren't things that interested him. Oh, one needed money to get just about anywhere but once people started to own multiples of everything, he was lost. There was no need for that kind of greed. No need for the sorts of hatred that wars caused, either. He did his best to stay out of all of it, didn't even talk about it unless he really had to.
But Jarrett --- Jarrett seemed like he was treated well. Someone had taken him in, too --- and they still had contact with each other. It's a warming thought, one that makes him lonely for a second as he remembers some of the families he wished he could check in on. He missed them. Missed some of the kids. Hell, a few of them were probably moved out and living their own lives by now. They probably didn't think about their dog very often --- the one that ran away. The one that they eventually replaced. All of them did and he couldn't blame them, not when the void was easy enough to fill.
He hopes this man won't be able to replace him so easily.
"Alright, alright --- we'll see what she's got. You've got me excited, now." Oh, his tail would be wagging away. A new, friendly and handsome face. A ride in a car. A warm meal. The only thing that would be better is if this man took him home at the end of the night. Rufus wants that more than anything as he climbs into the squad car and shuts the door. He figures buckling might be wise, given who he's with, and when Jarrett asks about the window, he laughs too.
But his head tips and he most certainly does allow the wind to blow against his face as they travel. It's nice --- to be moving. To not be alone. Before this? He was only going to have cranky ghosts for company and now he was safe and warm with eyes closed and a breeze in his hair.
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