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Noon is early in the world of Jamie. Well, this Jamie, at least. Others have already come and gone, out into the world for their day, but Jamie, the original Jamie, took an easy start. Whatever business he had to take care of himself this morning has been handled, and he even stopped on the way to pick up coffee. The biggest one he could get his hands on. And a second, presumably for whoever he might find at the safehouse when he gets there, but let's be honest; he won't have a problem just drinking it himself. He somehow manages to get the door open, despite having his hands full, and enters, looking for a spot to set the cups down. Anyone home?
*
Raven, now a days, barely spends time at this particular safehouse. Most of the time, she finds a lovely john to hook up with to use his bed for the night, and chances are? Steal his money right out of his wallet before she slithers home. But she was there, true and blue, showered and cleaned. Hair still wet, washed away of the booze and sweat from last night's activities. She was laid out upon the couch, long legs taking up most of the space, arms folded about her middle as she stared towards the window as if there were some sort of effigy planted there.
The door opens.
She doesn't move.
Her lips remain pursed as her yellow eyes suffer not a blink.
Eerie as this was, she remains. It almost looks as if she were not breathing.
*
Jamie doesn't notice Raven immediately. He walks further into the room, and sets the coffees down on the table in the kitchen, opens up the fridge, maybe looking for something to eat. He apparently decides against it, though, and closes it again, picks up his coffee, and walks back out to the living room. And then he spots Raven on the couch. "Holy shit," he says, startled enough that he actually visibly jumps, and spills coffee on his shirt. "Fuck," he mutters, looking down at himself. And then he looks at Raven, unmoving. "Raven?" Not breathing? He puts the cup down again, and moves to her side quickly, with the intention of checking to see if she's awake, or alive. She can be a hard one to read that way.
*
There was a little quirk of a smile when Jamie wasn't looking. But still, she didn't move. The smile died away quick enough, even as he steps a little bit closer to check upon her well being. At least he still cares!
Once he was close enough, her eyes shifted, finally blinking, her hand reaching out to flick upon his nose if he didn't move. "What?" She asks, finally offering a grin in his direction. "Since I wasn't here to see you a few days past, I will assume with good faith that the op I sent you on was a success." Assume. Yes. She was trusting him to do what was ordered.
No matter the state in which he came back in. She saw the dirt upon the floor.
*
"Ack!" Jamie says when his nose gets flicked, stumbling back a bit. He's not usually this clumsy, but Mystique always seems to catch him off guard. It's possibly her greatest gift. He recovers, and grumbles a little bit as he gets back to his feet. "Don't DO that," he says sharply, standing up again fully; annoyed, but overall relieved that she's not actually dead on the couch. They eat on that couch, man. But whatever ire briefly fills him for the prank doesn't last long; he'd be the last one to stay mad about such a thing, given that he's the worst offender in the house for it. "Yeah. Success. Next time ask Josh," he says. "Goldilocks needs to get his hands dirty too." Jamie will /always/ do what he's been ordered, but doesn't have to like it, and certainly isn't shy about saying so, at least to the one who gives the orders. "I brought coffee," he says after a moment, motioning with a free hand to the other cup on the table.
*
Legs fling from the couch with a twist and a turn, her bare feet planted upon the ground as she reaches for the coffee. She takes a tenative sip, her eyes closing briefly, opening once again to lift towards Madrox, her face still placid. "I will eventually. So far, he's had the worst job compared to you. Nearly being the voice behind the face of the Brotherhood will get him killed. Or far worse."
The coffee was sipped again, soon lifted in thanks as she settles back upon the couch, her fingers idly digging through her blood-red hair, still wet and fresh from the shower.
"Have you met the others? Your.. 'Uncle'.." She even makes the quote marks. "..Cain is here as well."
*
"A few," Jamie says easily, moving to half-sit on the arm of the couch, turned to face Raven. A smirk rises to his lips, but is forced away. Some thought went through his head, but was dismissed. "Haven't talked to Cain, no. I'll have to corner him one of these days and get all the juicy stories he has about you," he jokes, but doesn't drag it out. "Saw we brought in a new girl, Lynette. Met her a little while ago.. glad to hear she held her own at the reserve. Little bit surprised, though." Not that it's an unwelcome surprise. Raven has probably heard through the grapevine about those two.
*
The stare that she gives Madrox was unparalleled to one a snake gives its prey. Her lips twitch faintly, though she settles forward to plant both feet upon the ground firmly, elbows joining her knees, coffee sipped, sipped again, then drank fully.
Yes. Raven heard it through the grapevine, though from who it's anyone's guess. Perhaps its the way he spoken her name which has her speaking almost immediately. "You fucked her, didn't you?" Not that she minded, she herself dipped thrice in the pool that was Brotherhood, and she knew that they had a great stock.
That didn't mean that she wasn't going to give him shit for it.
"What have I told you about shitting where you eat?"
*
"Yeah," he says simply. Jamie's never been one to keep these kinds of things a secret, and he's /never/ been able to keep secrets from Raven. Learned that a long time ago. He sips at his coffee casually, looking right back at Raven as she talks. It's a bit amusing that she'd give him grief over this, considering her own habits. Yes, Jamie knows. It's actually nice that he kind of has a kindred spirit in Raven. "In my defense, I fucked her before she joined up. Not my fault. But it won't be a problem," he says with certainty.
*
Raven shrugs her shoulders. "Don't catch feelings." That was always her rule, rule that she's broken more times than she could count. Though if you ask her who she had loved? That question would be answered with a brandishing of a blade and a slit throat.
"Did you make it official then?" She asides to him. "May as well, you will be seeing her constantly for the days to come." The coffee itself was drained, and soon she leans back, one leg crossing over the other.
"Tell me your plans."
*
"Official?" Jamie almost laughs at the question, but he knows better. "No. We're not an 'item'. You know me, it wouldn't work out. It's casual. She knows it. If she has a problem with that, I'll deal with it," he says. "I don't really do 'feelings', Raven." Not deep ones, anyway. Not yet. "My plans for today are the usual. Got some dupes out around town already, looking for mutants to help, bigots to hurt." It's what he's been doing since he got into town, with mixed results. One of the benefits of being him is that he can cover a lot of ground. Jamie has returned to the safehouse on multiple occasions with a need for Elixir's services, due to his outings, but he's never once voiced a thought that he should do anything differently. "Unless you've got another task you want us on?"
*
"I know you don't, Jamie. Mayhap it's my involvement in your life that has caused you to not fulfill what most men want out of life these days." Raven has spent her time with introspection. Her own life, long as it was, examined deeply. There were many flaws, many wrong doings, many.. things lost. He has seen this before, her sullen moods. This is usually right before her month long benders and disappearances for years..
"Lay low for a while. I may put out a bug on the media outlets to get our message through. But we've tackled the FBI, as my intention. They know that we are to be feared." With the coffee gone, she gestures towards the fridge. "Whiskey. Clean."
*
Jamie finishes his own coffee, and sets the cup down before he pushes himself back up from the arm of the couch. "You didn't make me what I am, Raven. You helped me crawl back from the dead, but you didn't break anything in me. I would have turned out this way even if you hadn't come along," except that he'd probably be dead. But the point is, don't take responsibility for making Jamie into an emotionally unavailable compulsive flirter. "I'll pull back, then, take it easy on the poor suckers," he says. He moves across the room, and opens up the fridge, pulling out the whiskey, and two glasses from the cupboard. Back to the living room, and pours. One for you, one for me. Great way to kill an afternoon.
*
Raven scrunches her face as she listens, then gives a clear shake of her head. “No. Don’t bother on my account.” With a slight stretch back, she drapes a blue arm along the back of the couch, her legs crossing in the most dainty manner as she keeps her gaze forward.
She was thinking. (Which was a dangerous thing, let anyone tell it.)
With her glass of liquor poured, she doesn’t reach for it yet, but she does slowly rise from the couch, moving towards the phone upon the wall to contemplate dialing a number. It was all just contemplation, anyways, right?
“Can one of your contacts charter me to Russia?”
*
Jamie stands opposite the couch, about to reach for his own glass, but seeing Raven hesitate, he too waits. Never make a lady drink alone. Even if she can drink you under the table. “Alright then, mass beatings for hateful asshats will continue as scheduled,” he says with smirk. At her question about the charter, he purses his lips in thought. “Yeah, I might know a guy who can get you there,” Jamie says after a moment. He hadn’t talked to the man in a few months, it’s entirely possible he’s out of the business, but Jamie still has the number, and it can’t hurt to make a call. Of course, he’d have to finally pony up that bottle of bourbon he owes. Gambling is the devil, and it always catches up with you in the end. “You got something specific in mind?”
*
“You have to know that it’s just more than mass beatings, Jamie.” Raven scolds, though there was a little smile that rocks her pretty blue face. She leans against the wall then, staring towards the phone, shaking her head for a moment.
She was obviously waiting on a call.
But she couldn’t just sit idle, she reaches the table in a quick stride to snatch her drink, quickly downing it. That nervous energy was unlike her, but she shakes it out with a ruffle of her hair and a change of her own skin, one that everyone within the house was familiar with.
At least she was dressed.
“Not yet. Just keep that man in mind, reconnect. Do something. Make friends before I ask you to do something that.. Well, we shouldn’t be doing. At’all.” She frowns a little, then corrects herself. “Something -I- shouldn’t be doing. Put me in contact with your man once you’ve re-established yourself. This is something that I’ll have to do alone.”
*
Well of course it was more than just mass beatings. Mostly. There was also harmless property destruction and endless mocking of those less evolved. Jamie returns the smirk, and just gives a nod in reply to her scolding. Then, apparently not willing to wait any longer, he leans over, picks up his glass, and downs the shot he had poured. He immediately pours another, and sets the glass back down beside Raven’s. He watches her for a moment, and then moves to sit on the couch, doing exactly what she had told him not to do; nothing. “Watched pot, Aunt Raven,” he says teasingly. The rest of the adage need not be spoken. “I’ll meet my buddy,” he uses the term loosely, “Tonight. I know where he’ll be. One of those guys that follows a predictable routine, day in, day out. Like an idiot,” he says with a smirk. “If you need him this second, that’ll be a little trickier. But you know I’d try. Hate to make you do something you’d regret.” He pauses, looking down at the whiskey. “Don’t forget about your drink.”
*