[ Her laugh startles him a little. Not in a bad way. Just in the way that reminds him it's possible--that someone can find something about him funny without it being cruel. She touches her mouth like she's trying to hide it, and he smiles. She says he's not dead, and he wants to believe her. Maybe because the way she says it feels like a fact. He considers asking her how she knows, but the moment comes and goes.
He leans back against the van with a slow shift of weight, the dilapidated hunk of metal creaking behind him like it's got something to say. Then she grins and tosses out the beer pong line, bold and casual like she's done it a hundred times. His eyes widen with surprise as her words hit him sideways--the kind of challenge that carries no venom, just energy. And fuck, it's been a long time since someone talked to him like this. Like he's just some guy. Like he could just have fun and take a load off instead of scrambling to do damage control or to stay afloat every five seconds. He's not used to it. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it's starting to dawn on him that maybe he can finally stop running here. He huffs a breath through his nose, lips quirking into something that's more smirk than smile. ]
You talk a lotta game for someone who hasn't even seen the pool yet.
[ Jesse tips his head, studying her with exaggerated thoughtfulness, like he's weighing the odds. ]
Alright, alright. How 'bout this: if I win, you owe me a drink. A good one. Somethin' with a dumb little umbrella or a name like "Cosmic Punch". You know. Resort-type shit. [ There's a beat, like considering the alternative is an afterthought. ] And if by some miracle you win, I'll be nice and let you pick the terms.
[ His voice is easy, even, but there's a glint in his eyes that says he means it. That he's not just tossing it out to kill time. That he's paying attention. That maybe, under all the shit and haze, he's still the kind of guy who wants to believe in a little give-and-take, even if he's not sure how anymore. Somewhere beneath all the chaos is a guy who just wants to have fun and make some connections. He wasn't in a position to do that back home, but maybe here he can have a fresh start. He shoves himself off the van, straightening up and dusting his hands off like he's getting ready to kick some Beer Pong ass. ]
no subject
He leans back against the van with a slow shift of weight, the dilapidated hunk of metal creaking behind him like it's got something to say. Then she grins and tosses out the beer pong line, bold and casual like she's done it a hundred times. His eyes widen with surprise as her words hit him sideways--the kind of challenge that carries no venom, just energy. And fuck, it's been a long time since someone talked to him like this. Like he's just some guy. Like he could just have fun and take a load off instead of scrambling to do damage control or to stay afloat every five seconds. He's not used to it. He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it's starting to dawn on him that maybe he can finally stop running here. He huffs a breath through his nose, lips quirking into something that's more smirk than smile. ]
You talk a lotta game for someone who hasn't even seen the pool yet.
[ Jesse tips his head, studying her with exaggerated thoughtfulness, like he's weighing the odds. ]
Alright, alright. How 'bout this: if I win, you owe me a drink. A good one. Somethin' with a dumb little umbrella or a name like "Cosmic Punch". You know. Resort-type shit. [ There's a beat, like considering the alternative is an afterthought. ] And if by some miracle you win, I'll be nice and let you pick the terms.
[ His voice is easy, even, but there's a glint in his eyes that says he means it. That he's not just tossing it out to kill time. That he's paying attention. That maybe, under all the shit and haze, he's still the kind of guy who wants to believe in a little give-and-take, even if he's not sure how anymore. Somewhere beneath all the chaos is a guy who just wants to have fun and make some connections. He wasn't in a position to do that back home, but maybe here he can have a fresh start. He shoves himself off the van, straightening up and dusting his hands off like he's getting ready to kick some Beer Pong ass. ]
Sound fair?