08-20-2013, 07:01 AM
Well these two sure didn't waste any time. They might as well strap on some gear and tell him to climb Everest at the end of a two-week bender. He'd do it, just to not wimp out.
He ignored the pit of unalleviated hunger for now. No big deal. It was only like jaws of death were shredding his guts to ribbons. Totally easy to ignore that kind of thing. Again, though, the guy had a point. The sooner this was over with, the sooner he could get out of here.
Jax eyed one of Tony's discarded bottles, shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Then he leaned back and attempted to do as suggested. Some streak told him to flip these guys the bird and bolt. That pivotal day in Mumbai he'd been on his own. He watched, learned and practiced without someone holding his hand. But dammit, if he could do this, really do this, it was worth a few hours of humiliation. Even if he was pretty much ready to pass out in exhaustion.
The room hushed. Even the fluid sound of Tony's clogged breathing disappeared. But it was hardly quiet inside Jaxen's head. It started with that girl's thin voice, Is someone there? and ended with her screaming for help; by then Jaxen would have run to her aid just to stop the wailing sure to be branded in his brain forever; he may be a selfish bastard, but he wasn't a psychopath. But dwelling on her wasn't helping this cause. A tall drink, on the other hand, could definitely speed things along. But he mostly didn't want to get up to fetch the bottle.
He quickly grew frustrated with this seemingly slow progress. Which was probably more testament to a short fuse, no sleep, and hunger than his actual character. Normally, Jaxen was the epitome of patience--at least when it came to achieving his own ends. Clear his mind of everything? Focus on a single point?
Fine.
He cleared his chest of air, drew a fresh new breath, and closed his eyes. He fought the temptation to fall asleep, but the lure of his own steady breathing occupied his attention for the time being. Mind clear, he conjured up a single point onto which to focus. The red dot of a laser sight. Pretty much the exact same thing that landed on his chest when those Red Square devils came barreling in that Nikolskaya street bookshop. The kid he'd tried to help in there screwed him over. White tapped out his little dance routine--shit that was funny. The look on that guy's face--No. Focus.
A single red point streaking through the void of night. Eyes closed still, breathing calm and steady, he erased all the other distractions of body and mind and let the light burn his retinas. Though he saw nothing, he was sure he was about to go blind. Yet on he stared, drawing close enough, so close he could almost reach out and capture it.
He couldn't resist. The temptation was free and clear in front of him. He reached out to take it, a clean, smooth motion. Practiced and steady. If he could simply swipe the light and draw it to his control---but his fist drew clean through the laser. Right at it, yet missing it by a mile.
He winced, but quickly swallowed his frustration. This was no different than those early days of practicing the art of a con, he told himself. Back to the previous calm, he zeroed on the dot once more, but this time stayed his mind from grabbing at it, hoping Tony was about to share the trick to capturing it successfully.
He ignored the pit of unalleviated hunger for now. No big deal. It was only like jaws of death were shredding his guts to ribbons. Totally easy to ignore that kind of thing. Again, though, the guy had a point. The sooner this was over with, the sooner he could get out of here.
Jax eyed one of Tony's discarded bottles, shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Then he leaned back and attempted to do as suggested. Some streak told him to flip these guys the bird and bolt. That pivotal day in Mumbai he'd been on his own. He watched, learned and practiced without someone holding his hand. But dammit, if he could do this, really do this, it was worth a few hours of humiliation. Even if he was pretty much ready to pass out in exhaustion.
The room hushed. Even the fluid sound of Tony's clogged breathing disappeared. But it was hardly quiet inside Jaxen's head. It started with that girl's thin voice, Is someone there? and ended with her screaming for help; by then Jaxen would have run to her aid just to stop the wailing sure to be branded in his brain forever; he may be a selfish bastard, but he wasn't a psychopath. But dwelling on her wasn't helping this cause. A tall drink, on the other hand, could definitely speed things along. But he mostly didn't want to get up to fetch the bottle.
He quickly grew frustrated with this seemingly slow progress. Which was probably more testament to a short fuse, no sleep, and hunger than his actual character. Normally, Jaxen was the epitome of patience--at least when it came to achieving his own ends. Clear his mind of everything? Focus on a single point?
Fine.
He cleared his chest of air, drew a fresh new breath, and closed his eyes. He fought the temptation to fall asleep, but the lure of his own steady breathing occupied his attention for the time being. Mind clear, he conjured up a single point onto which to focus. The red dot of a laser sight. Pretty much the exact same thing that landed on his chest when those Red Square devils came barreling in that Nikolskaya street bookshop. The kid he'd tried to help in there screwed him over. White tapped out his little dance routine--shit that was funny. The look on that guy's face--No. Focus.
A single red point streaking through the void of night. Eyes closed still, breathing calm and steady, he erased all the other distractions of body and mind and let the light burn his retinas. Though he saw nothing, he was sure he was about to go blind. Yet on he stared, drawing close enough, so close he could almost reach out and capture it.
He couldn't resist. The temptation was free and clear in front of him. He reached out to take it, a clean, smooth motion. Practiced and steady. If he could simply swipe the light and draw it to his control---but his fist drew clean through the laser. Right at it, yet missing it by a mile.
He winced, but quickly swallowed his frustration. This was no different than those early days of practicing the art of a con, he told himself. Back to the previous calm, he zeroed on the dot once more, but this time stayed his mind from grabbing at it, hoping Tony was about to share the trick to capturing it successfully.