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Outside Devil's Nest, Monday Morning

Jack supposed he needed to go to work today before he could head to the mainland to meet his housemates. But he wasn't in a mood to spend any more time inside than was absolutely necessary; memories from detention meant that he'd gotten all the inside one man needed a week before.

He carried a laptop and a pile of files to a sidewalk bench near the club's doors and went to work. Sometimes the wind through the trees or the passing butterflies were far more interesting to him than anything on his spreadsheets and order forms and travel-booking sites, but that seemed entirely forgivable.

[OOC: Open post!]

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Tiny will be happy to serve you inside. Lucky Tiny.

He's pretty much gunning for distractions, anyhow.

Edited 2012-07-30 13:09 (UTC)

He might not be hoping for this particular distraction, and for what it was worth, Bo walked up knowing that already.

However, she also knew that the one person on the island who'd have worse memories of the things she'd done last week than she did deserved more than a text message sent from the interior of a very large blanket-fort. Which is not to say she didn't consider that option.

"So apparently the florist here doesn't have Sorry I Killed You Bouquets. I considered calling Mitchell to ask if he had any recommendations, but then I thought Sorry I Killed You Coffee And Doughnuts might work instead?"

Maybe after another hundred years or so on the island, she'd unclench enough to actually make the J,GoB clerk write that in frosting; until then, Jack would have to settle for rainbow sprinkles that didn't spell anything at all.

This was unexpected, though Jack supposed it was better than his plan of dodging Bo indefinitely every time they happened to be at the club on the same night. He stared at her for a strained moment as he tried to put a sentence together.

In the end, he reached out to accept the food. "Thank you," he said. "This is better than what Mitchell would have thought of, anyhow. I don't think vampires generally send sympathy bouquets to the families."

"They're not big on apologies," Bo agreed. Even Mitchell seemed to prefer the look awkward and hangdog about it, possibly with beer, until I'm forgiven strategy for the little things, and the silently let it eat your stomach lining until you explode into stupid guy shit that makes people yell DAMMIT at you for the big ones. "I... never really had the luxury before." Not in person, and the unheard ones didn't count. "The people I've killed don't tend to come back."

"The people --" The plural there did not whet Jack's appetite for rainbow sprinkles, and he brought the hand holding the donut to his lap.

"So that's something you can really do," he realized. "It wasn't just part of the general insanity."

"Not like that. With the..." Bo spread her hands in a way that served to cover both 'thing I did that looked like this' and 'I don't know what to call it.' "I've never done that before; I have to be in physical contact with someone to feed off them." Because that was the important part of his question, right?

"So," Jack said, around the frozen horror in his mind. "You learned a new trick."

The hand he wasn't holding the donut with reached up to his neck, unconsciously traced a neat set of bite marks. Being fed from was nothing new, although the feeder wanting energy instead of blood was.

On the whole, Jack would take a vampire.

"Look, there's no way to ask this that isn't rude, but -- what are you?"

Ironically, Bo would only have known she should find that question rude if she'd been raised by the folks with the answer to it -- and if she had, she'd never have ended up here in the first place.

So basically, screw your Fae secrecy, absentee family; he deserved a reply. "I'm a succubus. I don't know a lot about what that means, though, besides that I have to feed off sex energy to live."

"That's something," Jack said, with a trace of irony, "I actually don't think exists in my world. But a year ago I would have said the same about werewolves, so I may get lucky yet."

Or unlucky, as it happened. Either way, he was split between a desire to give Bo a wide birth and a gnawing curiosity about how exactly feeding on sex energy worked, especially when being on the receiving end felt so profoundly nonsexual to him.

"At any rate, I don't hold it personally against you," he continued, before he could make up his mind either way. "I know you weren't in your right mind. Though I also won't try to knock you down again."

Edited 2012-07-30 20:28 (UTC)

"I'd be a hell of a lot more likely to just punch you, if you did." Somehow that was supposed to sound apologetic, still. "I don't even know how I did that other thing, and the way I do feed is--" Possibly TMI or at least more than he cared to know, it occurred to Bo a bit too far into the sentence to do much about it. "It's not meant to be violent."

Well, at least not non-consensually so. Sorry, George and Nina.

"Trying not to hurt people wasn't high on my priority list in that world, but it is in this one."

Jack could fill in the blanks around it's not meant to be violent in more detail than he actually wanted, but it made sense that a succubus would not be the most discreet being on the planet.

"I know," he said. "And all that was on my priority list was getting out of prison and figuring out the rest of it later." He made a face. "It's much better here."

"And the Olympic Gold Medal in Understatement goes to Jack Priest..." Bo smiled, small and awkward, but real. "Even the coffee's better here. Umbridge only drank tea, so the coffee in the office tasted like repression and socks."

"And that's the first reason I've ever heard to be glad I was locked up," Jack told her. "The food there didn't have enough flavor to taste of socks."

Bo made a face and took a sip of her own coffee. "I'm sorry." Which he knew. "It was so crazy. Like slapstick-comedy crazy, if it wasn't so awful at the same time; I wish we knew how somebody like that could even get control of the place, so we can make sure it never happens for real."

"I know," Jack agreed. "All I can think is that she was faster at imprisoning or taking the minds of dissidents than the dissidents were at attacking her, but you'd think she would have needed more help."

It unnerved him slightly, realizing the school security officer was as in the dark as he was, but there hadn't been much time to investigate.

"She was already in power when the other me got to the island," Bo supplied. "She -- me, I mean -- spent more time than I wanna remember thinking about how awesome the woman was, not so much how she got the job."

Trying a new OCD format today; let me know if it works.

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Outside Devil's Nest, Monday Morning

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