Unfinished Business
| Unfinished Business | |
|---|---|
or "The Blue Doggy" | |
| Players |
Javi and Mae assist a ghost. Sort of. |
It is not particularly unusual to see a living person in a graveyard. In fact, there are several at this one right now, not just Javi. But he //is// one of them, standing in front of a very small headstone that’s a little lost among the other larger ones surrounding it. He’s in a variation of what he’d been in the other day -- jeans and a T-shirt -- and still looking a little bit in disarray, but more with the sense that he might just be a slightly scattered person than that he doesn’t pay //any// attention to his appearance. He probably pays it at least some. It also isn’t that unusual to hear someone talking to a grave, as he’s doing right now. Maybe less common, but grief is a personal process. It’s really only if one were to get closer and listen to what he’s actually //saying// that it starts to get a little bit odd. Most people who talk to their dead loved ones in a graveyard don’t sound like they’re having a real, mundane conversation with their loved one. Especially not one where it seems like their loved one is actually talking back. “Where’d you leave it?” A short pause, then: “//Where?//“ Another, and his eyes widen incredulously. “Well, what the hell you want me to do with that, huh? That’s a long-ass street.” And yet another; and then with a slightly guilty wince: “Shit. No, no, don’t cry, nena. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. What’s it look like?” Speaking of 'little lost'... there is one creeping up on Javi as he speaks to the open air in front of and around that one head-stone. Little Mae, mortal seeming to Javi's eyes, is dressed in a pair of scuffed, denim jeans with a black t-shirt with a faded 'Sex Pistols' logo on it that has most of the Union Jack symbol's colors faded into obscurity... unlike what her @desc says. She crouches low as she moves like a predator among the headstones in the aisle that runs immediately behind Javi's own. Wide, blue eyes are open and curious, chapped lips parted in a semi-aloof manner. What a creep. What a creeping creep. And so she closes in before stopping behind a nearby headstone, ears tuned in to whatever Javi is saying.
"You got anything else for me?" His head tilts to the side, his gaze tilted downward and fixed on the air somewhere in front of the headstone. "A park, okay. That's something." And then, shifting into a wheedling tone, "What if I got you a new one? It could be anything you want. How 'bout that?" From his expression a second later, this has not gone over well. "Okay, I got it," he continues quickly as he lifts his hands up in front of him like he's fending off a sudden storm. "You want your blue doggy, I hear you. Please stop crying." Quiet footsteps bring Mae out from behind the headstone, behind Javi and out of his view. A thin smile passes over her face before she creeps forward... reaches out... and TAP-TAP-TAPs him between the shoulder-blades. It's a surprisingly hard tap. Mae will hop back out of swatting range and offer a smile that shows off her filthy teeth. "Ghoooooosssssttttt?"
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" He whips around, stumbling backward so hard he nearly falls over that little headstone (//Virginia Grace Thompson//, it reads, //October 27 2016 - June 5 2022//). Yes, he's also come up swinging, so maybe it's lucky that Mae is not within reach -- lucky for him, that is, since what is that really going to be able to do? Not a whole lot. However, when he sees her, one of his hands drops as the other comes up to press against his chest in some attempt to slow his heartbeat. "Holy shit," he continues, quieter and a little breathless. "Had me seeing my whole damn life, fuck." He laughs, just this side of hysterical. Well, he's not dead, so that's good! A few deep breaths, and then he nods, not even trying to deny it. "Yeah," he confirms. "She lost her blue doggy. On fucking Western Ave." Yes, somewhere along the 24 miles of it in Chicago. Little Mae's reaction to Javi's own reaction is a simple, muted stare. She doesn't brace herself when he comes up swinging nor does she seem surprised or put off by his level of excitement, either. The small woman does sniff at some scent in the air and then widen her smile before nodding her head once, as if to herself. Another nod follows for Javi before she steps toward the headstone so she can read the epitaph. The woman in the 'Sex Pistol's t-shirt bends at the waist and brings her face down toward the top of the headstone so she can place a quick, quiet peck against the stone. "Ffffffiiiiiiinnnnnd.... IT."
He reaches up to rub a hand over his forehead, then back over his hair. While it may not do much to make it less unruly, it does seem to help settle him. Of course, he's well beyond trying to play it any sort of cool, so he doesn't bother. Instead, when she speaks, the surprise on his face is obvious, as well as real delight. "Yeah? You gonna help me?" He grins, a wide bright thing that seems to light him up from the inside all the way out. "Awesome. Okay. We're gonna find it, okay?" His eyes shift to that space in the empty air as he gestures between him and Mae. "Hang tight. We'll get it." Mae scrunches her face at the empty air before staring at Javi with a look that is half dumb-founded, half wary. Her hands move to slip into the joined front pocket of her hooded sweater before she blinks her wide, blue eyes and realizes that she isn't wearing it today. Oh no. Her sweater has been replaced for that faded band t-shirt, one that is a size or two too big. The small woman takes a step toward Javi and reaches out with her hand so she can poke his chest with her boney little finger. "Whaaaaaaat. Willllll." The speaking doesn't quite hurt her, but it doesn't seem comfortable for her mentally or emotionally. "Giiiiiiiiiive. ME?" The finger remains pressed against the man's chest which she's suddenly starting staring at.
"Huh?" He blinks, his brows pulling together -- but he'll get there. Give him a second. ...There it is. "Oh, yeah, okay." It's a fair question. "Uh." He reaches up to scratch his head thoughtfully, adding, "Whatchu want?" He asks it reflexively, before his brain catches up again to process that she doesn't seem to be very comfortable with speaking, and maybe 'yes' or 'no' is easier. So, his eyebrows raise as he offers, "Lunch? Dinner? Snacks?" Well, she did seem to enjoy eating the other day. "Nice shirt," he adds. And then glances down to the finger still pressed against him with a slightly awkward mixture of interest and discomfort.
"Ffffffffff...." She shakes her head before the sound becomes a proper syllable and then tries again, "Bbbooooooooyyyyyy...", and again when the next one comes out fully. Her lips twist into a frown and she withdraws her hand before turning away from him, both hands rising up to slap herself in the face repeatedly.
But then she's turning away, and now she's upset, and his eyes widen. "Hey," he says quickly, "hey, it's cool. Take your time, yeah?" He hesitates, weighing the desire to stop her hurting herself against the wisdom of touching her. It's only a second or two before the former wins out, though, and he reaches to lay a hand on her shoulder. "You wanna write it down?" he asks. "But to be honest, there's no rush. They don't really know what time is, so she'll be here. She's good, she's not crying no more." He jerks his thumb toward the gravestone, and he smiles.
The small woman follows the direction of his thumb toward the gravestone before looking back up into his face. "Fffffffffrrrrrrrienddddddd. Yoooooou.... Meeeeee. Ssssssssecret. Fffriend."
"Don't know how to feel about being a secret friend," he admits lightly. "I'm fucking great." It's said in much the same way he'd proclaimed his cuteness the other day -- that is, mostly joking. "But yeah, sure. We can be secret friends. Don't really got that many people to tell anyway, so yeah, why not?"
"Blue doggy, yep," he confirms as he starts toward the front of the graveyard and toward the street. "Okay. Gonna go find a fucking needle in a haystack, no problem." At least he sounds somewhat hopeful. "Least it's probably still somewhere. She said it's by a park, so. There's one at Western and Third. We can try there first." "Spliiiiiiit. UP." Mae says while turning back toward Javi. She rubs at her nose before shuffling along after him, though not before pausing again and turning toward that headstone. "Bye-Bye." Turning back, Mae will fall in to step beside Javi and reach out in an attempt to hold his hand for the rest of the walk out of the graveyard. If Javi accepts her touch he'll find her grip remarkably strong and her nails rather sharp in their feel. Javi might also sense that the t-shirt seems freshly clean but Mae, herself, could REALLY use a bath. Pew! "Oh you know what, yeah, good call." Javi turns to wave at the air around the gravestone after she does, but it doesn't stop him from his mission. There is a brief pause in his steps when she takes his hand with that unnervingly firm grip, but after a moment he seems content to leave it, and he then he even squeezes it briefly back. His own is just normal. The consequences of being mortal. Basically, anyway. "Okay," he continues as they get onto the road, "you take that one and I'll go further down, yeah? Probably kinda on the side of the road if it's anywhere." He seems to realize something, before he turns to look at her again. "You got, like, a phone?" Of course, he's probably answered his own question by looking at her. "You wanna meet up back at my place?" There's another hesitation; then he adds, "You could eat and stuff there." Or, you know. Shower. He doesn't //say// that. But he may be thinking it.
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