How Not To Treat With The Lost
| How Not To Treat With The Lost | |
|---|---|
| Players |
Gareth makes a Deal with Ji-Ho. And then immediately screws it up. Oh well. |
WARNING: vague mentions of murder and mildish flirting. Not in the same pose Ji-Ho is in the bathroom. Or -- no, actually that's not quite true. Ji-Ho is standing in the hallway outside the bathroom in one of the bars around the University of Chicago. It's determinedly middleish in the evening: late enough that people are here and some have settled in, but too early for people to be stumbling home drunk. It's just the right kind of time for some unknown figure to be crying their little heart out in one of the gender neutral bathrooms, and if it is a his or a her that has their heart broken, we will never know, and we will just go with _their_ heart. And Ji-Ho lurks. <regain> Ji-Ho regains 1 point of his Glamour pool, for Sad Crying College Kid Breakup. Of all the bars in all the... City of Chicago, why did it have to be *this* one?? Gareth has apparently been here for approximately five minutes, had a single pint of beer, and his walnut sized bladder has forced him to go in search of the bathrooms. The crying draws his attention, the P.I. taking a moment to listen to the tone of it before he rolls his eyes and turns to find another bathroom. Instead he finds... "Alan! Shit, sorry, I mean *Ji-Ho*," he greets with a pointed smile. Ji-Ho startles. His keep-cool-ability is taking a massive hit as he twitches upright, jerks his head back, hits his head on the wall, and then bows forward with a whining, "Owww." He rubs the back of his head, ducked to glare up at Gareth from beneath the dark fall of hair. "You can feel free to keep calling me Alan if you want," he says, dry as a desert. Gareth winces. "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to *scare* you," he says dryly in response. "No, I know your name now, or at least the name other people know you as so I'm gonna call you that, it's *easier* when I'm talking about you. You uh.. waiting in line?" he asks with a gesture towards the bathrooms. After a long pause, Ji-Ho says, "No. No, I just -- I already went, so like go ahead, I was just trying to figure out if a 'you okay' is condescending, rude, creepy, or welcome when they come out." "Which do you want it to be?" Gareth asks, forgetting for a moment his own bodily needs, turning to lean one bony shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms and slouching. In a more muscular person it could be quite an attractive pose. For Gareth it looks like a scarecrow fell over. "Well, with a crowd, it's definitely weird, so." Ji-Ho wiggles a little closer to Gareth and away from the door. "Maybe we pretend we're not lurking outside the bathroom like a pair of creeps." Gareth gives Ji-Ho a wry look. "You know, we could just *not* lurk outside the bathroom, and I could actually go use one and we could go back to the bar. Unless you like lurking and now you're using me as your *cover*." "Nope. I'm all done lurking." Ji-Ho pushes off the wall with a dust-off of his hands. "You keep creepin'," he says, like someone who was definitely creeping, as he breezes past Gareth on his way to the bar. He does _not_ smell like he fell into a dollar star bargain bin of Axe body spray. There's a subtle hint of fresh laurel, altogether classier as an herbal note. "You smell better," Gareth says over his shoulder, grinning before he turns to find a free bathroom. Ji-Ho gives Gareth a sharp look over his shoulder with dark and piercing eyes. They narrow. And then he sits at the bar, and he waits. Their sad friend leaves with eyes red and head held high. Gareth returns to the bar after a minute, dropping into the seat next to Ji-Ho. "I had a fifty-percent chance on you not being here," he admits. "I was here first," Ji-Ho says, extremely mature, as he glances over at Gareth and collects his own drink. It smells herbal, with a hint of anise, and definitely like it is one of those things that people say is an acquired taste. "I'd certainly hope I smell better. I had to throw out that shirt." "Sure, but maybe you just want to avoid me," Gareth says with a shrug. "That's a shame, the shirt wasn't terrible," he says. He glances at Ji-Ho's drink but just... doesn't ask. At all. He refuses to ask. Instead he sips his own beer. "You can avoid _me_." Ji-Ho shifts and plants himself a bit more firmly under the law of 'i was here first'. "It was two dollars from the thrift store, so let's just say I wasn't out much, but it _was_ pretty soft." He looks wistful. His current shirt also looks soft. He looks as though he perhaps chooses things driven that sense of tactile touch, with the cotton worn soft, even thin where it stretches over the sharper lines and angles of his body. Gareth leans back to take a look at Ji-Ho's shirt, giving an approving nod before he leans forwards agianst the bar. "Would you like me to avoid you?" he asks, turning the question around. "Tell me to fuck off and I will. I'm usually pretty good at doing as I'm told," he says, flashing a grin. "That actually surprises me." Ji-Ho measures Gareth over the edge of his glass as he takes a long drink and taps the edge of his glass. "You don't seem like that kind of person -- although, then again, you _did_ do your very best to find Alan, so." His fingers curl and pull in. His expression is horrible and smirkish. "I'll take that as 'no Gareth, your presence is delightful, please stay'," Gareth says, possibly unaware that this is *actually* the first time he's told Ji-Ho his name. He drags a hand down his face. "I'm never gonna live that down." Ji-Ho glances to the side, gaze tipped off in a sweeping study of the bar as others enter and depart. "You're very much a person of extremes, aren't you," he says, for all that he might seem to be entirely distracted, at a glance. His words remain squarely fixed on Gareth. "No one ever lives down a good in joke." Ji-Ho's words catch Gareth out and he fiddles with his glass for a moment, always in motion before he looks back to Ji-Ho. "I live in a world of extremes," he says quietly. "I see people at their very best and I see them at their utter worst and, honestly? Mostly it's the latter. So, for everything I bottle up, for every secret that I shove down into the deepest hole possible so that it can never be found again, I let something else out. Occasionally it's 'Alan' at the top of my voice." Ji-Ho's eyes widen in a mark of subtle surprise. It sounds like an honest answer, and certainly an honesty that he hasn't earned. He listens closely, and solemnly, and seriously, right up until he says, "I'm glad it's only occasionally 'Alan' at the top of your voice or you'd have a lot to explain to your partners." Gareth snorts, breaking into an easy laugh at the response from Ji-Ho, almost toppling back off the stool before he catches himself on the bar. "Oh *fuck*, ow," he says, clutching his side. "Only occasionally," he grins. "I am, at least, able to shout the *right* name when it matters," he says innocently. "Which is probably less often than you'd think." Ji-Ho reaches out with an absent hand, moving a bit faster, reaching a bit farther, leaning a bit more easily than Gareth might have expected. But then: he's twitchy. It's not so much of a surprise, is it? His hand falls away as Gareth catches himself, and he collects his drink again with a snort. "What is it you _do_, exactly?" His brow furrows, pulled in a slight frown as he studies Gareth. "Lurk around bathrooms," Gareth says, giving a slight nod to the hand in thanks before he considers the question more seriously. "Private Investigator," he says with a slight flourish of his free hand. "I... mostly find people's pets and surveil their significant others. What do *you* do?" he wonders. "Odd jobs, mostly. Been working on finding something a little bit more steady." Ji-Ho hunches forward, shoulders tucking up as he elbows onto the bar. "I guess I didn't realize people actually _did_ the PI thing. I thought it was one of those only-on-TV things, along with waitresses able to afford two bedroom apartments in Manhattan. How'd you get into that? Do you have to get licensed or something?" He skims Gareth like he's looking for dog tags and registration papers. "What *kind* of odd jobs?" asks Gareth forthrightly. He smiles at the question. "Well, I certainly can't afford a two bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Or Chicago, really," he laughs dryly before he cants his head, thoughtful. "I used to be a cop," he admits, his voice low. "I wasn't a very good one. I was more interested in..." he gives a shrug. "...the right people going to jail," he says diplomatically. "Good switch, then." That is all Ji-Ho offers on the subject of _politics_ as he gives Gareth a bare smile. "Odd ones." He sips his drink. Once again, he looks smug, like someone who is being opaque and _enjoying it_. "Most of my days are booked up with helping with moves right now, since everyone's shuffling around this month, then it'll be switching to something else, then some kind of seasonal whatever. Just, you know. It depends on what's going on. You ever need any help?" "I need *plenty* of help," Gareth says with a laugh. "What kind of help are you *offering*?" he asks, shaking his head at Ji-ho's *opaqueness*. "I don't know. Finding pets, tailing significant others. I don't. Is that illegal?" Ji-Ho seems _sincerely_ at a loss, looking to Gareth as a bastion of law and order. "no it's not illegal. As long as you don't break any *other* laws while doing it," Gareth clarifies. "Sometimes the line is... *fuzzy*," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mm, no wonder you didn't make it as a cop. I thought they _never_ wanted to admit that lines got fuzzy." Ji-Ho pushes his empty glass away and waves off the bartender's offer, saying, "Water," like the kind of guy who wants to make it home okay. "That's because they make their own lines. But don't we all?" Gareth asks with a tilt of his head. "I have my lines, you have yours. The difference is we aren't wielding large amounts of power when we do it." Ji-Ho grimaces. He looks down at his water. From his expression, he is regretting that it is not something stronger. "Never trust those with power to draw lines." "Quite," Gareth says, downing the rest of his beer. "Which is why I'm rather content being outside of the system. I draw my lines, I have my little box, and I have no power." "Not even inside your little box?" Ji-Ho asks, studying Gareth with narrowed eyes. "My apartment does have electricity," Gareth says with a wry smile. "But really I'm the only one in there. I have power over myself - some of the time - and that's enough for me." His face falls abruptly Ji-Ho pokes, of course: "Why the face, then?" he asks rather than politely ignore it. "Ah..." Gareth says, trailing off. "I had power once, I don't think I used it particularly well." The smile he gives Ji-Ho is rather small and sad. "Mm. Okay. You tell me your secret, and I'll answer any question. Deal?" Ji-Ho waves a finger for the bartender, drawing them back with another beer for Gareth and a bottle of something weird and local from Wisconsin for himself. "What happened?" Gareth stares at Ji-Ho. "Does that often work for you?" he asks, though it clear he's *itching* at the chance to ask Ji-Ho a question. "'One question and a beer to unlock your secret sob story'?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. "Or is this is a very odd way of picking me up?" "You wouldn't have brought it up if, on some level, you didn't wanna talk about it. What is it, a two beer story?" Ji-Ho nudges his bottle toward Gareth. "Maybe it's a leave you with a sense of mystery about my dark and tragic past story," Gareth points out, taking the beer and sipping from it. "Why are you so interested anyway?" "You started it." Ji-Ho elevates his level of discourse from 'I was here first' to -- well, that. He places his elbow on the bar and his chin on his hand. "You're really annoying," Gareth mutters into the beer. "Do I just get one question *if* I tell you my thing?" he asks with a sigh. "Yes," Ji-Ho says, and he is _clearly_ grudging as he says, "But I will answer the question in full, without evasion, until you are satisfied." "Ugh I have no idea what to ask you," Gareth mutters, watching Ji-Ho over the lip of the bottle, tongue running around it as he considers. "*Fine*," he says, leaning in just a little closer. "A missing person job went bad. It was a kidnap. The guy who..." he trails off, dragging his hand down his face, biting at one of his knuckles. "...yeah, well. He got into a bad situation. I had a chance. A choice. Save him or walk away. Take a guess which one I picked." "I'm sorry," says Ji-Ho, who -- in ways Gareth can't see, in ways Gareth can't sense -- reaches out to taste the scent of his grief. "What happened?" he asks with softer sympathy. "I walked away and let the bastard drown," Gareth says, his hand tightening around the beer bottle as he takes a deeper swig, cheeks hollowing. There's a lot of grief there. None of it's for the dead guy. Ji-Ho tilts his head, like he is trying to catch a hint of sound, just out of his range of hearing. If not grief -- anger? His eyes narow as he leans forward. His eyes follow the hollow of Gareth's throat and the curve of his lips. He watches for his words. "Not everyone deserves a rope." Grief, anger, rage, hatred, all there in a whirlwind of negative emotion, coloring his words, his movements, the way he tips his head back to finish the beer, the way his eyes close tight. The parts of Gareth he shoves down so deep he doesn't have to feel them anymore. He slams the bottle down ineffectually. "No. But maybe - maybe they deserved more. Justice delivered by someone other than bad luck and *me*." He fixes Ji-Ho with a look. "Get what you want? Now you know my fucking life story." Ji-Ho makes a calming motion. He looks sympathetic. "Maybe. People rarely get what they deserve, though." He siphons off the raw, sharp edges, leaving Gareth wearied as the furious energy churning through him spends itself, blunted by his appetite. "We do what we can." "Yeah," Gareth says, slumping against the bar, suddenly tired. "So. My one question, huh?" "Y u p." The sound pops off Ji-Ho's lips as he watches Gareth slump. He pats his shoulder, rubbing in sympathy. "You wanna fuck me in the bathroom?" Gareth asks bluntly. He leaves it a beat, not long enough for Ji-Ho to answer before he cuts in with a grin. "Nah, that's not my question," he says wickedly. "God, what to ask," he muses, tapping the bottle. "Too late. You asked. Deal's made, contract sealed." Ji-Ho reaches for the bottle and steals it from between Gareth's fingers to finish it off. "I'd rather fuck you at home." "Damnit," Gareth grumbles, looking at Ji-Ho and rubbing his face. "Fuck I deserve that, don't I? I wanted to know how you managed to sneak up on me that day in the park," he admits. He doesn't answer Ji-Ho's other... answer. Ji-Ho's teeth show in a quick smile. "Gareth, you absolutely deserve the answer to the question, yes. I hope you aren't in that much of a thoughtless rush _all the time_." "Most of the time," Gareth sighs, dragging his hand down his face. "What do I have to do to find out how you snuck up on me?" he wants to know. "Well, you just wasted a perfect opportunity, so. I wish you luck figuring it out." Ji-Ho slides the empty bottle away from Gareth, away from himself, and leans against the bar as he looks Gareth over with an appraising glance. "Gareth, in case I was too subtle, I was _suggesting_ that _I hoped_ you weren't the type to _thoughtlessly rush_ through _getting fucked_." "You were not too subtle," Gareth sighs, sliding off the stool. "And having been *thoughtlessly* hasty and wasted a golden opportunity, I'd be really fucking stupid to waste this one too." "Given what I've seen so far," Ji-Ho murmurs, feet touching seconds after Gareth's as he reaches to touch his elbow, "I wouldn't be surprised if you did." He steers him with a light touch: checking to see if he's bidable, settling up their accounts with the bartender. "Just so you know, I'm going to scream 'Alan', just for that," Gareth tells Ji-Ho, snorting. He's easily guided, a little tipsy, but steady on his feet and clear-eyed. "Not if you're gagged." Ji-Ho holds open the door. Politely. Gareth stumbles over his feet, catching himself on the door, giving Ji-Ho a deer-in-headlights look. "Lead the way." Ji-Ho's smile is toothy. He leads the way. | |