03-15-2014, 08:15 AM
The first time Jaxen saw Tony, the man was a slobbering, disgusting drunk half out of his mind with alcohol and fully unaware of his pathetical life. Of course, at the time, Jaxen was fresh out of hell on earth. The cuts still dug fresh red slits around his wrists and the echoes of womanly shrieking continued to echo in his mind. In such circumstances, Tony was easy to overlook. Especially after sharing his cereal and the minor little gesture that healed Jaxen of any and all wounds - including the headache left by White.
Michael was the far more intimidating man of the two of them. Jaxen also quite clearly remembered the moment where his young friend nearly obliterated everything in his path. Michael was also the stronger of the two men, and likely the more experienced, but as for Tony, Jaxen would also treat him with care and gentle coaxing. Michael was not the one to go to for help. Nor would he be intimidated by someone like Jaxen. They were too evenly matched, barring the transient detail that was Jaxen's lack of experience. It might be fun to go head to head against Michael someday, but not yet. In his state, Jaxen was an infant and Michael the gladiator. Today, the idea was ludicrous, but behind Jaxen's ever-present smile, he knew it wouldn't always be that way.
Tony brought up valid points. Jaxen raised his hands, signaling accession. "You'll have to forgive my mood at the time,"
his gaze rolled toward Claire. She didn't deserve an explanation, but it served Jaxen's purposes to elaborate. "I had been kidnapped - long story - and you might say Michael aided in my escape. Although I credit a Zippo more than Michael, but subtleties aside, it had been a long couple of days, and I was not as congenial a man as one normally finds me."
His smile charmed, and he waited to absorb Claire's reaction, expecting sympathy, before continuing to answer Tony.
The lure of Jaxen's magnetic smile evolved into something more bewitching then, more disquieting. "Why should you help me? I think you know who I am - and what that means - better than most of the idiots wasting space in this city."
For a moment, there was a sharpness to the cut of his voice, like a hint of the edge of a knife hidden inside a drawer, but Jaxen soon found himself laughing at the absurdity of making those kinds of threats. Clearly the attempt at coercion was a joke, albeit a crude one. Clearly.
His demeanor softened. Jaxen was no more violent than a fluffy pillow fight between drunk cheerleaders. "I think we'd make a good team, Tony. You and I."
He was serious, but the gleam did not leave the corner of his eye. "The question is, what do you want? What can I help you obtain. In exchange for such a friendship."
"It is a benefit to be my friend, after all."
His brows rose, awaiting agreement.
Michael was the far more intimidating man of the two of them. Jaxen also quite clearly remembered the moment where his young friend nearly obliterated everything in his path. Michael was also the stronger of the two men, and likely the more experienced, but as for Tony, Jaxen would also treat him with care and gentle coaxing. Michael was not the one to go to for help. Nor would he be intimidated by someone like Jaxen. They were too evenly matched, barring the transient detail that was Jaxen's lack of experience. It might be fun to go head to head against Michael someday, but not yet. In his state, Jaxen was an infant and Michael the gladiator. Today, the idea was ludicrous, but behind Jaxen's ever-present smile, he knew it wouldn't always be that way.
Tony brought up valid points. Jaxen raised his hands, signaling accession. "You'll have to forgive my mood at the time,"
his gaze rolled toward Claire. She didn't deserve an explanation, but it served Jaxen's purposes to elaborate. "I had been kidnapped - long story - and you might say Michael aided in my escape. Although I credit a Zippo more than Michael, but subtleties aside, it had been a long couple of days, and I was not as congenial a man as one normally finds me."
His smile charmed, and he waited to absorb Claire's reaction, expecting sympathy, before continuing to answer Tony.
The lure of Jaxen's magnetic smile evolved into something more bewitching then, more disquieting. "Why should you help me? I think you know who I am - and what that means - better than most of the idiots wasting space in this city."
For a moment, there was a sharpness to the cut of his voice, like a hint of the edge of a knife hidden inside a drawer, but Jaxen soon found himself laughing at the absurdity of making those kinds of threats. Clearly the attempt at coercion was a joke, albeit a crude one. Clearly.
His demeanor softened. Jaxen was no more violent than a fluffy pillow fight between drunk cheerleaders. "I think we'd make a good team, Tony. You and I."
He was serious, but the gleam did not leave the corner of his eye. "The question is, what do you want? What can I help you obtain. In exchange for such a friendship."
"It is a benefit to be my friend, after all."
His brows rose, awaiting agreement.