The move had been stressful. Incredibly so, what with having Melon and her kittens as well. They were older, but Jordan was hoping to avoid moving them around. He had lived in Chicago for as long as he could remember, and he was not dealing with the change well. Firstly, the weather was awful. He had to take off his jacket, even though it would’ve been useful stil in Chicago. March wasn’t a month for simply a button up, but here he sat, with two buttons undone and his hair pulled back. He felt strange, weirdly vulnerable for being in a new place, and he did not like it.
So yes, he had perhaps drank a glass too much of wine at the establishment where he dined. He was sure it didn’t help the unbearable heat, but it did ease his nerves somewhat, which were frayed. It was why he splurged on a new hard back book instead of a paper one, hopefully more resilient to the sand that seemed to coat everything.
And it was put to the test almost immediately as he was unable to avoid bumping into someone as he stepped out onto the street. He was more concerned about his book, and scooped it up quickly, dusting off the front and back, before turning to make his apologies. Before he swiftly canned it.
Issac. He hadn’t seen him in two months. Not since the riot. “He shouldn’t be here,” Jordan found himself thinking, even though Isaac already seemed at home. The gangs had moved south as somewhat of a faux unit, but there were strengths in numbers, he supposed, even if some of those numbers hated each other enough to kill.
The sight of him was more sharply painful than it was irritating, and that made Jordan angry. He hated knowing Isaac wasn’t worth his time, and yet spending so much of it thinking of him curled up in bed and spiteful. Disgusting. He was disgusting himself, and Isaac sat there acting as if he hadn’t continued to constantly poke and prod him out of his comfort zone again and again.
His shoulders rose minutely as he felt his nose wrinkle instinctively. “You say that as if you gave us, least of all me, any choice. Chicago isn’t safe anymore because someone got rid of the only mutant keeping the police in check. You are fools,” he spit, suddenly very very angry. “Benjamin was not a good man, but now that he’s gone our homes are gone,” he said, before he scoffed at Isaac insinuation. He shouldn’t even award him with a response, but he found himself coaxed to by his hot-headedness for once. “I’ve already seen everything you have to offer as someone who can claim to have human sensibilities, and found you lacking, so yes, I have had plenty of you thank you very much.”
“Me? What the fuck did I do?!” Isaac replied defensively before Jordan could even finish. His one-track mind hadn’t thought to process all of Jordan’s words, because unlike Isaac who would simply make an accusation and leave it at that, Jordan at least had the mind to give him a bit more detail. “Keeping the police in check? That asshole kept them on his side! Not ours! He only helped himself, but I guess it’s hard to see that - the light must look so blinding if you’ve only seen the inside of Ben’s asshole for years.” The police were never his friend, and Isaac would defend that statement above a lot of other things. They’d put his mother in jail, though he didn’t exactly know why. They’d hunted for the mutant escaping a home that was nothing but cruel to him, because silence, to them, was more important than the freedom of those who just wanted to live. They stopped any chance at fun Isaac had, though that was less of a gripe about police in general and more about how Benjamin only utilized his connections there when it suited him and his, not to aid all mutants. Jordan was living in whatever fantasy Kings designed, the same that decorated that garden only to shatter the dream with a deafening gunshot.
So yeah, of course Isaac was pissed. He hadn’t done anything, and yet he felt as if he was being blamed for the situations in Chicago. He didn’t control the police, and even though Benjamin, in a sense, had a hand in that, he certainly didn’t have a good grip on it, considering everything that happened. He didn’t control the politicians, and frankly probably couldn’t spell the words democrat republican if his life depended on it. He couldn’t control fear. He’d learned that way too long ago. That’s why he only ever ran from it, and now, that running brought him to Miami.
And what was so wrong with that, anyway? Isaac couldn’t really understand why this move was a bad thing to Jordan; this place was sunny and warm and had a beach and some random guy playing an instrument Isaac didn’t even know existed on the street corner one block down, what wasn’t to like? Well, Isaac certainly didn’t like Jordan or the attitude he was responding with, since Jordan obviously didn’t seem to like Isaac, either. “Guess what? I’m not human, bitch. I’m a fucking mutant,” Isaac argued, clearly not getting the point as he stepped closer to Jordan’s personal space, as if all five-foot eight of him was intimidating. “And I guess you’ll just have to get used to me, you praying-mantis looking fuck.”
