09-05-2013, 01:00 PM
The guy liked the sound of his own voice. What? Did the guy talk for a living?
Jaxen lounged comfortably for most of the guy’s rambling. Though at one point, he shifted from resting the glass against his knee to resting it on the cushion alongside his leg. A small ring of condensation had bled through the cloth of his pants, but if Jax cared, he only swiped the wetness away and moved the glass. Let the cushion get wet. If Oriena cared, she should have designed the tables to be within arm’s reach. What’s a guy suppose to do? Hold his own drink for hours on end? Fuck that.
Jon held a disproportional overabundance of sentimental value for accessories as ugly as those cufflinks. He must have missed the sarcasm to Jax’s underhanded compliment then again, the guy was drunk and Jaxen had been subtle about it, to be sure. A hawk complimenting a pigeon on its impressive production of birdshit shouldn’t be taken literally. Jax’s own cuff links were easily twenty times the cost of those coin replicas. If they were authentic, well, that was slightly impressive. In the way a hawk might mistake a pigeon’s boldness for bravery rather than sheer stupidity simply because it couldn't fathom a creature being that oblivious.
So Oriena was a woman of secrets? Jax stifled a chill smile behind the effort of taking his next drink, That an invitation, sweetheart? Her rebellious discard of Jon’s investigative efforts only flared Jaxen’s possessive nature. She’d not been so pessimistic in the moments before the third wheel joined their table. What with the force of power absent from the atmosphere, Oriena was slowly taking over the gears of Jaxen’s imagination once more. Reading into her behavior wasn’t exactly solving the Da Vinci code. The final linger of her fingers on his hand when he offered the drink only stirred up more resolve to --
-- Suddenly, talk of competition slammed the brakes on that determined line of thought. Even a line as pleasant as it had been.
A game, eh?
The last healthy bet Jax took nearly lost him his head… and every other body part one by one. He inwardly shivered at that, and took another drink, biding his time and thinking.
Risk was hardly a foreign word to Jaxen, but he liked to minimize it as much as possible. He was patient, planning, and calculating. Random games of chance were not his style. There was nothing to rig with random. There was no practice to mastering the roll of chance. And he had no issues with losing face if it meant saving his neck in the long run. Then again, he glanced at Oriena. She was in. Then he turned back to the newcomer, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“What did you have in mind?”
Jaxen lounged comfortably for most of the guy’s rambling. Though at one point, he shifted from resting the glass against his knee to resting it on the cushion alongside his leg. A small ring of condensation had bled through the cloth of his pants, but if Jax cared, he only swiped the wetness away and moved the glass. Let the cushion get wet. If Oriena cared, she should have designed the tables to be within arm’s reach. What’s a guy suppose to do? Hold his own drink for hours on end? Fuck that.
Jon held a disproportional overabundance of sentimental value for accessories as ugly as those cufflinks. He must have missed the sarcasm to Jax’s underhanded compliment then again, the guy was drunk and Jaxen had been subtle about it, to be sure. A hawk complimenting a pigeon on its impressive production of birdshit shouldn’t be taken literally. Jax’s own cuff links were easily twenty times the cost of those coin replicas. If they were authentic, well, that was slightly impressive. In the way a hawk might mistake a pigeon’s boldness for bravery rather than sheer stupidity simply because it couldn't fathom a creature being that oblivious.
So Oriena was a woman of secrets? Jax stifled a chill smile behind the effort of taking his next drink, That an invitation, sweetheart? Her rebellious discard of Jon’s investigative efforts only flared Jaxen’s possessive nature. She’d not been so pessimistic in the moments before the third wheel joined their table. What with the force of power absent from the atmosphere, Oriena was slowly taking over the gears of Jaxen’s imagination once more. Reading into her behavior wasn’t exactly solving the Da Vinci code. The final linger of her fingers on his hand when he offered the drink only stirred up more resolve to --
-- Suddenly, talk of competition slammed the brakes on that determined line of thought. Even a line as pleasant as it had been.
A game, eh?
The last healthy bet Jax took nearly lost him his head… and every other body part one by one. He inwardly shivered at that, and took another drink, biding his time and thinking.
Risk was hardly a foreign word to Jaxen, but he liked to minimize it as much as possible. He was patient, planning, and calculating. Random games of chance were not his style. There was nothing to rig with random. There was no practice to mastering the roll of chance. And he had no issues with losing face if it meant saving his neck in the long run. Then again, he glanced at Oriena. She was in. Then he turned back to the newcomer, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“What did you have in mind?”