10-09-2013, 12:22 PM
The man rolled his sleeves and warmed chilled arms.
Jon was cold.
At least, the shivering bothered him at the same time it annoyed the hell out of Jax. The greater annoyance than a shot of cold air blown across wet flesh, was the lack of a fucking breeze! There was no explanation -- no reasonable -- explanation for their chill. No gust of air ruffled anyone's hair -- though Jaxen's was too perfectly styled to be ruined by air conditioning. No blowing portals leaked winter indoors -- that and it was still summer. What was crazier was Oriena's apparent immunity. A dozen times his dark eyes skinned her legs, and never once did a ripple of goosebumps pucker pale skin. If that weren't enough, not a soul in the entire place was shriveling up like they opened the balcony door in January. Actually, there were times when that wall of icy air felt fantastic.
Back to the point. Jon was cold. At all the same times as Jaxen. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the connection. Either both their minds were about to get brain-fucked by the Sickness at the exact same time, or they were both sensing the same source of a chill. Or they need to turn up the fucking heat in our padded rooms, he thought with a wily grin.
Strangely, if Jon had figured out the same revelation, he wasn't too interested in it. Jax followed the man's line of sight and discovered an obnoxiously sudden interest in Oriena. 'Nobody at this table doesn't already know---' Behind the mask of his fingers, Jax pursed his lips thoughtfully.
He'd figured it out. Either the vodka goggles finally fell off his face and realized Oriena was fucking hot, or Jon was punching her with the blame. Guess he wasn't as drunk as he looked -- or he always looked that dopey.
Jax was content to watch the two's interaction. In turn, Oriena fell gravely serious. Daring still glinted her expression, but she was on the verge of smothering the conversation. Why are you so bothered by the topic? She should be bothered. Any sane person would be. Sickness camps probably fell short of his idea of camping. But Oriena looked like she was about to impale Jon between the eyes with the heel of her stiletto. Overreacting? Probably. Or she knew something he didn't. His own incomprehension vexed.
A good, what? Fifteen years ago, when the Sickness started quietly circling the world, it was always women affected. Teenage girls to be exact. It may have comforting to think himself safe, but clearly what leeched life out of the female half finally latched on the men. The list of questions for Tony was quickly growing, but what was obvious was the Sickness being connected to crude flailings of power. As soon as it was brought to conscious control, the green mile march ended.
Which meant only one thing.
Oh the foxy, foxy grin that split his face. He tried to hide it behind the splay of his fingers, but there was no point. Slippery as a snake, fucking snakes, he stretched out his arms long and straight behind his head for a stretch, picked his bare feet off the floor and plunked crossed heels atop the table with enough limp weight the glasses rattled.
He played his palms behind his hair and lay stretched out practically flat, smug and studying the ceiling. "I suppose that answer will do,"
he replied ponderously upward. Kidnapped, drugged, even hints of ominous creatures. Jon's story prickled Jax's curiosity, but there was someone else he was dying to torment. Just for idle amusement.
He rolled his gaze toward Oriena, toes waggling. "You know doll, this table is terribly uncomfortable. You should really get some ottomans or something."
Foxy grin crinkled his eyes with amusement. "I think I will fold my game this round. I like to end on a high note."
Jon was cold.
At least, the shivering bothered him at the same time it annoyed the hell out of Jax. The greater annoyance than a shot of cold air blown across wet flesh, was the lack of a fucking breeze! There was no explanation -- no reasonable -- explanation for their chill. No gust of air ruffled anyone's hair -- though Jaxen's was too perfectly styled to be ruined by air conditioning. No blowing portals leaked winter indoors -- that and it was still summer. What was crazier was Oriena's apparent immunity. A dozen times his dark eyes skinned her legs, and never once did a ripple of goosebumps pucker pale skin. If that weren't enough, not a soul in the entire place was shriveling up like they opened the balcony door in January. Actually, there were times when that wall of icy air felt fantastic.
Back to the point. Jon was cold. At all the same times as Jaxen. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the connection. Either both their minds were about to get brain-fucked by the Sickness at the exact same time, or they were both sensing the same source of a chill. Or they need to turn up the fucking heat in our padded rooms, he thought with a wily grin.
Strangely, if Jon had figured out the same revelation, he wasn't too interested in it. Jax followed the man's line of sight and discovered an obnoxiously sudden interest in Oriena. 'Nobody at this table doesn't already know---' Behind the mask of his fingers, Jax pursed his lips thoughtfully.
He'd figured it out. Either the vodka goggles finally fell off his face and realized Oriena was fucking hot, or Jon was punching her with the blame. Guess he wasn't as drunk as he looked -- or he always looked that dopey.
Jax was content to watch the two's interaction. In turn, Oriena fell gravely serious. Daring still glinted her expression, but she was on the verge of smothering the conversation. Why are you so bothered by the topic? She should be bothered. Any sane person would be. Sickness camps probably fell short of his idea of camping. But Oriena looked like she was about to impale Jon between the eyes with the heel of her stiletto. Overreacting? Probably. Or she knew something he didn't. His own incomprehension vexed.
A good, what? Fifteen years ago, when the Sickness started quietly circling the world, it was always women affected. Teenage girls to be exact. It may have comforting to think himself safe, but clearly what leeched life out of the female half finally latched on the men. The list of questions for Tony was quickly growing, but what was obvious was the Sickness being connected to crude flailings of power. As soon as it was brought to conscious control, the green mile march ended.
Which meant only one thing.
Oh the foxy, foxy grin that split his face. He tried to hide it behind the splay of his fingers, but there was no point. Slippery as a snake, fucking snakes, he stretched out his arms long and straight behind his head for a stretch, picked his bare feet off the floor and plunked crossed heels atop the table with enough limp weight the glasses rattled.
He played his palms behind his hair and lay stretched out practically flat, smug and studying the ceiling. "I suppose that answer will do,"
he replied ponderously upward. Kidnapped, drugged, even hints of ominous creatures. Jon's story prickled Jax's curiosity, but there was someone else he was dying to torment. Just for idle amusement.
He rolled his gaze toward Oriena, toes waggling. "You know doll, this table is terribly uncomfortable. You should really get some ottomans or something."
Foxy grin crinkled his eyes with amusement. "I think I will fold my game this round. I like to end on a high note."