“oh the execution, is that right?” jude parrots her words with a lifted brow, a smirk teasing at the corner of his lips. “by forking over more money you mean, of course, forking over any money considering your doting boyfriend did it utterly free of charge.” he flexes his hand in an attempt to escape the grip she has on his wrist and with enough force he certainly could have freed himself, but even that is a little more violent than jude is by nature, so he simply allows her to hold his hand at bay. probably for the best, since his immediate inclination was to tickle her, and knowing xyla he could very well have gotten a tongue-lashing for it. the truth is, he’s still very much enamored with that tattoo. he’s given tattoos to significant others before, and in their own way they still affect him–he can’t help thinking about one or two of them walking around england, if that’s where they still are, with a tattoo he’d given them by hand even though he hasn’t seen them in years. tattoos never fade, that’s the point. but maybe there’s another point, at least for jude: meaning. symbolism. documenting bits of your life that were important at the time, even if they seem less important in the present. the difference with xyla is that he still sees her, still sleeps with her, and still has to see that tattoo and contemplate what it means to them now. it is, and always will be, a piece of himself he’s left on her skin.
taking the bottle of wine back from her and once again allowing his free hand to fall to her thigh–the shape of it warm and familiar beneath his fingers–he lets out a short laugh at her question. he’s about to answer her, but then another name comes out of her mouth, one that jude has been spending the last three months thinking about in a most melancholy fashion. andrea. he’s taken by surprise at the mention of her and his expressive face shows that, nor does he make much attempt to hide it. more than anything he’s curious where it came from or why xyla would be thinking about her, and he shoots her a quizzical look. “yeah,” he says slowly, passing the bottle back. “i still have her number. what is this, like, your way of trying to discreetly ask how i’m doing? or are you just taunting me as usual? because i am doing quite well, thank you very much. so well, in fact, that i’ve managed to find my newest infatuation, can you believe it took me three months? probably a record.”
"Yes, but if I remember correctly, I cooked a really fuckin' great homemade dinner that night as a thank you for stabbing me a million times with a tiny needle. I also let you tattoo me in the first place, so that was already a big deal," she replied pointedly, and eyebrow arching in his direction. "And don't even try and act like that steak and the Gnocchi weren't amazing, 'cause we both know they were." While a homemade meal wasn't something to bat an eye over, Xyla cooking came around as often as a blue moon. For quite some time, she chalked her lack of experience in the kitchen to her busy schedule and all the meetings she had over dinner and drinks; however, it was because she found eating alone to be quite sad. Picking out all the ingredients, and carefully ensuring all flavours complimented the other, only to have nobody to share it with at the end of the day was unsettling. Xyla grew up in a busy, bustling household with sisters always in her business and a mother who needed to stick her nose in everyone's business. Home-cooked dinners were part of her childhood and only shared with those she cared the most for. Therefore, while homemade dinners weren't extravagant or anything out of the ordinary for most, to Xyla, it was her way of showing gratitude and how important the person was to her. And if she sent you home with leftovers, that meant you captured her heart.
The TV in the background acted as white noise for their conversation, and she watched Butters settle lull to sleep out of the corner of her eye. Jude had been over so many times in their years of friendship that his presence didn't even excite the small pup anymore - it was normal. However, as Jude began to speak once again, Xyla was pulled from her thoughts. "A little bit of both," she began with a shrug of her shoulders. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't make fun of you a little, would it? But really, are you doing alright? No drunk texts at 3 am? No terrible comments on her latest Instagram posts? No 'spontaneous' visits to her work? You really alright? 'Cause if not, then you need a little bit more of this," she said, holding out the bottle to him. While she wasn't interested in the details of his latest break up, she was, of course, curious about where his head was in the last couple of months.
Breakups were never fun, even if you were the one initiating them. Xyla expected him to begin a tangent about how he was doing great, focussing on his work at the parlour and living his best life. However, as the words' newest infatuation' left his lips, she stopped dead in her tracks. "Newest infatuation?" She repeated curiously, sitting up in her seat and pulling her legs from his lap. Xyla carefully tucked her legs under her and curled up against the cushions of the couch, letting her head rest on an unusually large pillow. It felt strange to be in such an intimate position with Jude now that she knew he was beginning to fall for another person. However, sitting with her legs on his was far more innocent than the multitude of other activities they routinely partook in. "You should win an award for your remarkable ability to bounce back after relationships. Or, you know, you should teach a class, like a 'how to get over your ex 101' style seminar. I'm sure you'd get thousands of applications, and you could be rich by tomorrow," Xyla began. Though she tried her best to keep the conversation light and fun, she couldn't help but let her curiosities seep in. After all, she'd always wondered how long it took for him to bounce back after their break up — less than three months, apparently.
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