multiversallogs | i wrote this song while i was drunk

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i wrote this song while i was drunk

Who: Jae and you.
What: Sorting his head out, getting back to work.
Where: Various places around town, including bar hopping and slice of life activities in Creekside, at work at the Vault, Anarchy 99, and the radio station, and at a temple in Brock Marsh.
When: Over the next week.
Notes: Would you like to bump into Jae somewhere? Note the location/vague timeline in your tag and it shall be so.
Warnings: Unpleasant thoughts about rape culture, drug use.

In the aftermath of attempting to help Megan and his encounter with Hilmi, Jae has a difficult time processing the series of events as things that happened to him - because things haven't happened to him. Things happened to Megan. Sure, if you hit a vanity with a sledgehammer, it's not just the glass that's cracked, but he's still not the fucking mirror; Jae's reeling from the turbulence. So is everyone else who knows (well, maybe not Sonja) and everyone else who will know - and more people will react to what Jae did, and so on, and so on, like ripples, because every time anyone does something violent or cruel, the whole of their world feels it. Society didn't become soulless overnight. It took a hundred million weeks like these and now, even when people feel the backlash, they don't seem realize it.

It's normal.

(It's horrible.)

Jae buys a couple of tabs at the Vault before his shift and rolls all the way through it. If there's one thing he appreciates about Baedal, it's that so much more is perfectly legal (or at least, perfectly unregulated), and the ecstasy (or space ecstasy) he can get is pure, none of this shit cut with coke or speed like he had to worry about back at home. It's a good night for everybody, which is fortunate; it's always good when he works whether or not he uses any enchantments, but this week, he's not even letting his subconscious do anything - he feels like there's a great gaping wound somewhere intangible inside him, and the stitches keep splitting. He just doesn't want to bleed anymore.

While he's been made one of the floor staff family with ease at the Vault, his experiences at Anarchy 99 have been more - well. It caters to dwarven metal. Still, there's a fair amount of enthusiasm for his style ("Just put some more INXS on it"), and when one of the waitresses asks him what happened that one night with Hilmi (because he hasn't come back), he just shrugs. Jae isn't sure if he should be feel fortunate that she's the only one who noticed they walked out back together, but while some of the girls liked Hilmi, some of them really didn't, and she decides to interpret that shrug as him having done everybody a favor. The notion of it makes him uneasy - but it's not like he can correct her and not lie, so he just stays quiet, and thinks about the same thing he thought about that night. That if somebody comes to arrest him, he'll just go. The notion of being locked up is like a suffocating nightmare at the end of a long and dark hallway on his head, but what's even more terrifying is the idea of becoming the kind of person who wouldn't take responsibility for doing something awful. (He'll ask Ilde for Sonja's number, he decides. He'd rather apologize to her than the police, and he knows enough about the military to know speaking to someone's commanding officer is as good as.)

Too much liquor, long nights, and investing in a pill cutter; Jae almost feels human again, losing himself in work. The radio station is a hilarious disaster, but he likes his boss, as much of a lunatic as she is. That he's at the bottom of the ladder again makes him feel like even more a child, stumbling over himself and his magic and his emotions as he is in this strange place. But there, it's not as bad. He hits the bar across the way from his flat in Creekside, he buys groceries and a new pair of sunglasses, and then he comes home ("home") and lays on the floor and stares up at the ceiling and pretends his head spins because he's been drinking too much.

He doesn't sleep for two nights, and then spends the third up and reading the book that appeared in the arrival room with him. It's the first time he touched it since he shoved it in the back of his closet when he moved in. The next evening, he goes to one of Shada's temples in Brock Marsh, and doesn't do anything beside sit quietly in the back.

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She hasn't explored Creekside yet, so that's where she heads, following the clean, crisp lines of the map in her mind.

It's a calmer, quieter neighbourhood than the one her motel is crammed in; the lines of cosy cottages and colourful storefronts remind her, vaguely, of the streets she lived on in Ohio.

The sheer diversity of this city, she thinks, outweighs even Gotham's.

And that's not even speaking to the people. She's watching them, too, as she wheels along the pavement. It's equal parts curiosity and security, really; her eskrima sticks lay on her lap, a comforting weight she can't really feel.

Creekside is mellow and Jae likes it like that; he's a city boy at heart no matter where he is on the planet, under normal circumstances, but Baedal is anything but normal. The laid back atmosphere just up-river from the coastline suits him and his desire to have a place to retreat to if necessary. (Once, the thought of Maybe when I've been here long enough to get used to it I'll move- flitted through his head, and it made a cold knot settled into his stomach. He doesn't want to be here long enough to be used to it.)

He's coming out of a corner market, toting a brown paper bag stuffed full of groceries (onion and carrot tops poking up like fluffy green flags), when he spots Barbara. It's not the first time he's seen someone in Baedal in a wheelchair, so it's not the first time he thinks about what an absurdly unfair pain in the ass this must be for anyone who isn't able-bodied; he's tripped and nearly killed himself trying to deal with the cobblestone streets, even. What strikes him more than that, though, is recognizing her as the uncannily calm and collected woman he'd spoken to very briefly on the cohort network... during which he'd seen Ilde speaking about her world, and had freaked out bailed on the exchange. How smooth. (Cue internal chagrin.)

Nevertheless, he hoists his grocery bag against him with one arm, and raises his free hand in a greeting when he's near enough to not need to shout. "Hey."

Barbara turns her head, tensing slightly; after a moment she relaxes, as recognition dawns. She smiles, slowing down as she nears him.

"Hey there." It's nice to see him looking well; she was concerned, after that abrupt retreat.

She really needs to stop being concerned about everybody, but she resigns herself to the fact that it's probably not going to happen.

As she comes to a stop, "This your neighbourhood, or do you just like the market?"

"My apartment's a couple blocks that way," he says, nodding in the appropriate direction - his building is right up against the river. "But I do like the market."

It makes him feel a little better to buy small amounts of food at a time; he's still hoping he'll wake up back in London one day soon, and buying a months worth of groceries in the event that happens would be inconveniently wasteful. (...And completely harmless, given context, but this is just how his brain works.)

"-I'm sorry, I'm completely blanking on your name. I'm Jae."

Barbara follows his gaze, contemplating the spot. The view must be nice; peaceful.

She offers a wry smile. "Probably because I didn't give it." She offers a hand, sheathed in a dark wool glove. "Barbara."

"Barbara. It's nice to meet you." He shakes her hand, grip firm but not enough to be trying to prove anything; his body language is reserved, confident but quietly so, without any posturing. (You'd think that with everything going on lately, he'd lose the ability to hold himself with that much ease, but Jae's a better actor than that - when he collects himself, anyway.)

"Sightseeing?"

"You too." Their grips match, more or less, casually firm. Her dad always told her you could tell a lot about a man from his handshake. It's something she remembers when she wants to be seen a certain way, or when she wants to get a read on someone.

And, really, she always is.

"Basically. I'm used to knowing my city like the back of my hand. Figured I'd get to work on that." Her mouth tightens, slightly. Baedal isn't her city; she's leaving as soon as she can figure out how.

But then, she was leaving Gotham, too.

"Where are you from?"

That's a tricky question, Jae's discovered. But by now he's resigned himself to expect places and planets he's never heard of in response; it's actually sort of interesting.

He has to step out of the way of somebody on a bicycle, and he shifts the grocery bag in his arms again. The foot traffic isn't ridiculous, but there are still people out and about, so they're a bit of a rock in the middle of the stream, here. "I can show you around a bit if you want to come with me so I can put this away," he says, amiable.

"Gotham." Back in her world, that would often be enough; her city is fairly infamous, especially after No Man's Land. Here, well. "Big city in Jersey, if that means anything."

Barbara still envies that easy manoeuvrability, sometimes; fortunately, she's not quite in the path of the biker. With a wry but grateful smile, she nods. "I'd like that, thanks."

He shrugs, slightly apologetic - as he doesn't recognize it, no. "I'd been to New Jersey a lot as a kid though," he says, and begins walking, surreptitiously making sure he's not wandering around somewhere she can't. "For most of my stint as an American, I was in New York."

Ah, yee olden days of running away from home to explore or avoid or plain old escape; his first glimpses of independence were out there in those coastal states.

Barbara follows, gaze wandering meticulously as she listens. She's still, after all, learning the landscape.

"How long was that?"

It's a nice landscape; the structures are charming, having apparently appeared in the city as industrial pieces, have since been converted to a suburban, almost quaint feel. Old warehouses painted white and pale yellow, stained glass windows, flower boxes, wooden doors. And yet the atmosphere isn't stuffy, just quiet. The streets are narrow, clearly never designed for much more than horses.

He makes a thoughtful hum, perhaps counting in his head. "Six years?" Not quite six. "We lived in Hawaii for a while, too."

'We' did not, but Jae did, and extremely briefly - but he'd learned enough to fake it, and the passport and ID he had on him when he moved to the UK all reflected his status as a former resident of the big island. As an explanation: "My dad had a hard time pinning down work."

Edited 2012-01-24 23:54 (UTC)

It's oddly heartening to see. People working with that they've got, and turning it into whatever they like. There's...a resilience, here, an adaptability that Barbara can't help but admire and identify with.

"My dad, too. My first dad. He always managed to find something in Ohio, though." Her voice is quieter, when she speaks of him. "What kind of work did he do?"

"Medical doctor," he says. "He was never certain what field he wanted to study permanently. He goes around overhauling emergency room operations now."

Jae doesn't know if that's true. It's what his father wanted to do, eventually. He hopes he ended up doing it; he was brilliant about it.

"Yours?" He catches the way she clarifies first dad, so he's cognizant she may not want to answer. They're going down a street now that's one lane over from the river, close to his building.

Barbara nods, admiration clear in her expression; she's always respected doctors, almost as much as cops - well. Good cops.

She smiles, soft and wistful. "Accountant. He loved numbers. I think he enjoyed being a forensic accountant the most - runs in the family, I guess."

"What's a forensic accountant?" To be fair, it's not in the usual community college job rotations.

"It's this one," he says, of the apartment building - gray concrete on the outside, but it looks well-kept, with nicely painted doors and windowframes; a few of the windows have flower boxes, up the face of it, and there's no fuss about getting in on wheels, thanks to the simple former-warehouse design.

The elevator lobby is sparse, sporting a single green fern sitting on a stand against the wall, though Jae takes a brief detour to a door and places a small box of something that looks like it might be specialty candy in a receptacle marked 'Manager Drop Box'.

"They help police investigate fraud, money laundering, that kind of thing."

Barbara glances up as he points it out, giving the place a typically thorough once-over. It's - well, it's nice. It's the kind of place you could feel comfortable and relaxed in without too much effort.

Well, she could have once.

She smiles faintly as he drops his package. "Guessing you like the manager?"

"Huh." That makes sense. "Sounds really interesting." Like paper trail detectives... even if it brings to mind stuff like Why is the FBI bothering with copyright infringements, but oh well.

Back over by the elevator, he pings the button and laughs. "Yeah, he's a real sweetheart, uh.." The door opens and he lets Barbara go in first; being an old warehouse it's one of the big freight ones, making the area unusually accessible compared to most other Baedal architecture. "He really looks after the tenants. I appreciate it."

Which is true - the super is one of the kindest people Jae's met. His guilt over using a sympathetic spell to get free rent has only increased now that he's beginning to realize how his magic works; the guy wouldn't be letting Jae freeload if he didn't want to somewhere deep inside, and Jae's come to understand that this man would let the entire city stay rent free if he could. So yeah, rent now comes with miscellaneous other stuff, courtesy of Jae's conscience.

She nods, grinning up at him. "I used to bug him until he let me see his work." Not that it took much persuasion, really; he felt guilty whenever he left her alone, even when it didn't make sense, so he tried to make up for it.

Barbara enters the elevator and quickly wheels to the side, making room for Jay. "It's always nice to meet people who...genuinely care." She's seen enough apathy to last her a lifetime. Sometimes it wears her down more than cruelty does.

"What do you do?" He expects her to say something outlandish, at this point. Half the people he's spoken to do completely insane things; he feels mundane, despite being a D-list celebrity at home.

Jae nods, happy about his landlord, all things considered. (It makes him remember that CiD broadcast about the Militia, and how the guy had checked on every single one of them.) When they get off the elevator, it's not too far down the hall to the door of his apartment, and he deftly unlocks it and pushes it open, and - well. It's got character.

"Home sweet home," he says wryly, of the black-and-white tile floor that expands out from the entryway, leading to wood paneling and murals.

"Freelance tech stuff, mostly." It's not entirely a lie; she does supplement her less than legitimate income with more sanctioned work, when she has the time. "And I work as a consultant at some companies." Not always officially, exactly.

Her eyes widen when the door opens, and she grins at the sight. Her first thought is that Dinah would love it, and it makes the smile ache a little.

"I like it."

"Definitely smarter than me, then," he tells her with a grin, and goes to put his groceries away in the nearby kitchen (which is in a glass box, yes, the design of his flat is absurd).

"I'm shocked it was empty." From the looks of the things he's bought - vegetables, pasta, some kind of meat product freshly butchered and wrapped in brown paper, eggs, etc - he cooks for himself, and the kitchen itself is orderly and clean. "But the second bathroom is supposedly a death trap..."

"Nah, just talented in the way of machines." She always was; when she was little she'd take things apart to see how they worked. Her parents didn't tend to appreciate it, considering she had less success putting them back together.

At first.

"Well, if you have any unwelcome company you can direct them in there." Always looking on the bright side, is Barbara.

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i wrote this song while i was drunk

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