☤- ( Tuesday drabble request for gogogobarry. Jans & Violet. )
If there’s one thing he’s learned well this entire week -- it’s that one-upping a woman is essentially a futile matter. It simply isn’t gamble over which a man can hope to come out on top, regardless of whether or not he has the high ground at the get-go. Or in the end, for that matter. Funny how the upshot of giving lip to just one peculiar girl in the massive populace can have Jans dwelling on the ethical dilemma behind fraternizing irresponsibly with the opposite sex... so to speak.
JOAKIM’S DISCREET AFFAIR.
Who is this mystery lady in his life?!
It’s one thing for paparazzi to sell baseless assumptions to the tabloids; another entirely when he’s the one who had committed himself to this mess to begin with. With the ferocity she grills him over the headline, his manager may as well have been cooking his face on a gridiron. Breaking the heavy silence on his end, Jans releases an antagonized sigh. Maintains his stony disposition with heroic stoicism and rubs his temples, shutting her voice out as a mechanism for mental defense. All that he had gone out of his way to do,
-- only for his charity to amount to some tragic back-alley snapshot of his profile, cradle-carrying the woman who called herself the ‘Nighthawk’, to land on the cover of the regional gossip subscription.
“Wonderful.”
[ 17 HOURS AGO ]
“If I were you, Handsome,” a soft grunt. “I’d watch where those hands go.”
An isolated puff of cigarette smoke clambers towards the dim light fixtures of the narrow backstreet. “Not exactly in a position to be making orders, now, are we? Lift your hips. And take off your suspenders. They’re in the way.” For a spell, only labored breaths and a reluctant clink of suspenders landing on the floor can be heard. “Am I hurting you?”
“Wow. Spare the humiliating commentary, will you? Just get this,” another groan, this time more subdued than the other. “Get this over and done with.”
“The mouth on it.”
Notwithstanding his sarcasm, Jans’ face is cut like stone beneath the ill lighting. If not for the bead of sweat that breaks from his forehead, one could certainly have taken him for unperturbed. Uncannily so. He stretches a wad of ace bandage, tucking one end around the small of the woman’s back and compressing the fabric against the gash on her side. Red seeps through the cotton weave - blood, and iodine solution from the medical kit.
“Say.” Her voice takes on a curious pitch, like a sharp note on the piano he should be wary of. “Haven’t I seen your face somewhere before?”
Sensing undesirable recognition up ahead, Jans quickly diverts the topic. “There’s a time and place for pick-up lines, if that’s your idea of one. This isn’t one of them.”
“You’re pretty full of it, for someone who’s helping a damsel in distress at his own cost.” Breaths erratic between acidic chuckles, she smiles when his eyes reflect vague puzzlement. “A man and a woman, alone in some dark back alley, pressed up against a wall and getting cozy with each other... Looks pretty compromising to me. And if someone were to walk by now...”
Jans wonders why he listened to her prattle when he’d gotten the gist halfway in. “Might have to send you to the hospital after all.”
She purrs, leaning back against the brick wall and contently shifting a hand over her wrapped abdomen as if to survey his handiwork. “Some way to sweet-talk an injured woman.”
“Not injured enough if your mouth is going at full tilt,” he mutters quietly, stealing a quick wipe at his forehead before swabbing her blood from his fingers with a square patch of gauze and some alcohol. “Fortunately for you, I meant what I said. I’m sending for an ambulance,” he lights up the screen of his mobile phone. “A real doctor will look after you in the hospital.”
With the surprising skill of a Liepard she swipes at his hand. Having foreseen the move, however, Jans shifts his phone out of reach.
“This isn’t what we agreed to,” her voice takes on a bare edge. “The hospital isn’t a place where I can show my face right now. Just call me a cab and I’ll have myself looked after.”
“Why? You hit the wrong person or something? I didn’t ask,” he reminds smoothly as she sends him a venomous, testing glare. “I don’t owe any favors to someone whose real name I don’t even know. For my sanity, you’re just going to have to grin and bear it. Hospital may not need you, but you need it right now.”
“The mouth on it,” she echoes spitefully, grinning through the throbbing pain in her side. “You may have to pay for these bold moves you put on me, Handsome. I know I won’t be forgetting them.”
He doesn’t pay any mind to her threats, packing the studio’s emergency health kit up. Far off amid the distant hum of the city’s nighttime, ambulance sirens shriek.
“Charmed, ‘Nighthawk’.”
In hindsight, the banter between himself and the Nighthawk looked less and even less in his favors as he deliberates over it endlessly. Like a shot vinyl record skipping three-fourths into a song back to repeat from the beginning. Jans shuts his eyes, as though resigning, tossing the magazine to the floor. It slaps near his manager’s feet, prompting her to fall abruptly silent, then follow with an irked yet cautious, “what, Jans?”
“She knew.” Jans kindles his third cigarette since breakfast.
Clever woman damn well knew who I was from the start.
“I´m telling you, soldier. Leave before it´s too late.” Buck said. He was completely soaked in mud and blood, some of it his own, some of it not.
He held the branches of a nearby bush back, revealing a hardly used dirt path.
Skippers fingers tightened on his gun.
“i´m not leaving you, sir.”
“Soldier.”
“You can´t make me.” The younger officer stood his ground, holding Buck´s glare confidently.
“Like hell I can´t.” Buck growled, but didn´t move.
“I can help you, Buck. Let me fight with you.”
“You´re gonna die, kid.”
“I don´t want to return to camp without you.” Skipper said, his honesty taking Rockgut back- The general studied him hard. He wanted to be stern, to send that damn boy home right now, turn away, you still have a future.
Instead he let go of the branches and dropped to the ground, hissing, “make yourself useful and take cover, cupcake.”
Skipper did as he was told and crouched behind him, but not before Buck caught sight of a smile.
Kitka met him over a group of friends one night at a casual restaurant.
He was dressed in military attire same as the little dark haired boy in his lap. They were reading a picture book while they waited for their order. She could hear him changing pitch when he read the words aloud from over where she sat.
Gloria, her lifelong friend caught her staring and nudged her suggestively. “See something you like?”
Kitka nudged her back. “Stop it, Glory. Look, I´m sure he´s married, he´s got a child with him.”
“That´s not his son. And he´s not married.”
Marty butted in.
“How do you know that?” Kitka said.
“Because that´s Skipper. We go way back, namely high school. Also, I doubt anyone´s crazy enough to settle down with that nut job.” Alex said.
“I think he´s sweet.” Kitka said.
Her friends looked at each other knowingly.
“What?”
Melman stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Hey, Skipper!”
“No, shh, what are you doing?”
Skipped looked up and studied them for a second before he lifted the boy off his lab and took him over to their table.
“Look who found me again. The hippie bunch from high school,” He then seemed to notice Kitka and raised his eyebrows. “New recruit?”
She gave him a little predatory smile. “Believe me, I´m anything but a flower girl.”
He smirked right back at her. “I´m glad to hear that. You strike me more as a huntress of perhaps warrior.”
Alex just rolled his eyes at Gloria, who refocused her attention on the little boy next to Skipper.
“Hey Private.”
Private let go of Skipper´s hand to hug her.
“Hello Aunt Gloria!”
“Kitka, you don´t have to stay here with us, if you´d rather accompany Skipper, you´re more than welcomed to.” Alex said winking.
“That´s an excellent idea, tree hugger.” Skipper said, turning to the ginger while Alex made a face at him, causing Marty to snicker into his drink.
“Private´s uncle will be here shortly for dinner. I´ll leave the kid here and show you someplace better, if you´d let me.”
“I´ll delighted to.” Kitka said.
“Aweso- err, great. Gloria, will you watch Private till Nigel appears?”
“Sure thing. Give the boys a hug from me.” She responded.
They said their goodbyes and Skipper escorted Kitka out to a traditional African restaurant, one that was dimly lit and had exotic, dishes for brave.
Something Private and Rico enjoyed to do was taking baths together. They´d pile up with soap and towels and rubber ducks, spending hours in the warm water to give each other bubble beards and was their hair. Despite it being just for fun, it was hard to deny that it didn´t bring them closer over the time.
