maskormenacelogs | ocean ward and somber, slumber sleeping.

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ocean ward and somber, slumber sleeping.

WHO: rick bradbury & jenny quantum.
WHERE: residence #006.
WHEN: backdated to february 18th, night.
WHAT: things happened one year ago, today.
WARNINGS: jenny's potty mouth!

[ as far as anyone can tell, jenny quantum is over the incident in southwest phoenicia that had her bleeding slowly to death in the icy waves of a remote ocean, cradled in the arms of the man that killed her. maybe she learned to let it go, after all those months in prison. being behind bars had given her plenty of time to think, to turn the events over in her mind-- over and over and over again. she'd smoked a lot of cigarettes.

but if she's over it, it's hard to explain why she's in rick bradbury's house this late at night, curled up on the open windowsill and exhaling wisps of cancerous smoke out into the cool air.

it's late enough that most of the house's residents seem to be asleep, but after a little while, the little white monster named terror comes sniffing from the bedrooms. there's a moment of stillness as girl and dog eye each other from across the living room.

then the barking starts. ]

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[ the heavy thump of footsteps and the sound of awkward shuffling heralds bradbury's coming to investigate the din, operating on autopilot as he shuffles into the hallway. he may look only half-awake, dressed in hotdog-patterned pajamas, but he's sharp and alert. even if it could just be terror making a fuss out of nothing, he's never really felt at ease with living in a house he doesn't already know inside and out, and he sleeps light these days.

tonight, though, he was already awake for reasons that have nothing to do with fussy dogs.

he doesn't turn on the lights as he looks around for whatever's caught , wanting to preserve his night vision. it makes it easy to spot the anomaly in the living room's shadowy tableau, the cherry of the cigarette glowing in the windowframe like some kind of fucked-up north star. a fitting beacon for the twenty-first century. ]

Hey, Jenny. [ he crouches down in the hallway to call terror over to his arms before he wakes anyone else up, trying to calm him down. ]

[ the footsteps are too heavy to be terry's, so she almost knows for certain who it is that she just provoked the dog into waking up. maybe that's why she casually glances away, tilting her head so she can exhale another mouthful of curling smoke outside into the night.

her answer comes nonchalantly, as if it were perfectly normal for her to teleport herself in to someone else's house on a whim: ]

Hi, Rick. [ finally, she looks over at him. ] Isn't it past your fucking bedtime?

I'm pretty sure it's past yours, too. [ he eyes the cigarette, critically. ]

Put that out before you come in. [ he gives terror a final pat on the head before releasing him; the dog stays a few moments to glance between the two of them like he isn't sure whether he should stay or not, still winding his way around bradbury's legs when the man straightens up. ]

You hungry?

[ she makes a little bit of a face at him-- but that's mostly for show. she takes one last, long drag off her cigarette before casually putting it out on the windowsill, smothering it before she flicks it outside. she even pauses to toe off her sneakers, leaving them by the window before she hops down onto the floor, wandering over to bradbury. ]

I could eat. [ she puts her hands idly in her pockets. ] You offering?

Yeah, but don't get your hopes up. All we've got is mac n'cheese and day-old pizza. [ the healthier options tend to get no leftovers if only because bradbury pointedly makes sure there aren't any.

it's a little weird to be having this conversation when there's so much else on his mind, and so much else they could talk about -- but he doesn't really want to talk about those either. ]

[ mac n'chesse and day-old pizza. sounds like a teenager's culinary dream. she lets herself into the kitchen, helping herself to a seat-- on the dining table, instead of at it. apparently she has no issue with planting herself on people's furniture however she likes. ]

I've been eating prison food for a fucking year. Could be worse. [ her response comes as dry as ever. ] Sounds like a shitty diet for growing boys though. Better step up your dad game, Rick.

Don't worry, I make sure they eat all their vegetables. [ he rolls his eyes as he pushes the food into the microwave and turns it on, finding a sort of mundane comfort in the machine's dull drone. not that it's loud enough to give him an excuse not to talk to jenny.

he turns to get a proper look at her now that she's under the light, taking absentminded note of the little changes a month of living in another universe will do to you. she looks like she could use some of those vegetables herself, honestly, but maybe that's just a jenny thing. ]

[ she does look older. it's something in her face, even more than the fact that her limbs and her hair have both gotten longer. she's becoming a young woman gradually enough. soon, she'll stop aging entirely.

the clips holding her hair back might be familiar to him. there's not much she has left of their previous universe, but. ]

Right. [ her hands are a little restless. she probably wants a cigarette. bluntly, she calls out the obvious: ] This is fucking awkward.

Just a little, yeah. [ he shrugs, but when he catches sight of what she's wearing, he can't help smiling a little, as inappropriate to the occasion as it is. he doesn't call her out on it, though -- she doesn't exactly seem fond on anything that might draw attention to the sentimentality she denies having.

kids grow up so fast. he can't catch a glimpse of her tattoo like this, but he's willing to bet it doesn't read registered. ]

You holding up all right?

[ she catches that little smile, but she doesn't know the reason for it. it makes her eye him with something between curiosity and skepticism as he moves around the kitchen. if he'd asked her, she probably would have denied any sentimental reason for keeping the clips. she would have claimed they meant nothing to her-- which, to someone who knew her as well as rick bradbury, would have betrayed the opposite truth. ]

I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?

[ of course she'd say that. to deflect, her voice takes on a distinctly sarcastic edge: ]

How's your old wrinkly ass? You do something cute for Valentine's Day? Pick up any local babes?

Well, since you didn't go to all the trouble of setting me up with a date this time, what do you think?

[ humor is always something that's a bit of a hit or miss with jenny -- the banter's never as easy as it is with terry. it's like skipping through a minefield and hoping you don't get blown sky-high. ]

Besides, I'm a little old for that kind of stuff. You're the one who should be having fun.

Is that a fucking dig at the Christmas present I so very fucking gracious set up for you? Because you definitely needed a hot date or something. Don't even try and tell me no-- I already figured how deep in denial you are.

[ she says all this dismissively, waving her hand at him a bit. absently, she toys around with one of the chairs she's so conveniently not sitting on, putting her feet against the seat and tipping it back and forth on its legs, making a game of preventing the chair from falling completely over. ]

Besides, who the hell says I haven't been having fun?

Most people would just send a card. [ but then again, she isn't most people and they both know that already. as per her wishes, or perhaps more accurately her demands, he doesn't protest her assessment of his love life, or lack thereof.

he also refrains from the instinctive retort that comes to mind, like the lack of countries in chaos and terry pulled into drunken shenanigans making it difficult to tell what she's been up to. ]

So what have you been up to? [ the microwave beeps, and he moves on autopilot, putting the plate of slightly sight pizza and pasta in front of her while he rummages for a fork. ]

[ the truthful answer is that she hasn't really been up to much. she's been an awful housemate, purposefully-- that's a start. but besides that, she's been surprisingly well-behaved. she can't run to the carrier, and she has yet to see how well this universe tolerates her powers, so. despite making a show of telling captain holiday to basically fuck himself, she hasn't actually caused anyone any trouble.

honestly, the answers she comes up with in her head for his questions are made up of surprisingly ordinary things. ]

Well. [ she picks up the plate of pizza, giving the chair a brief reprieve so she can set it on her lap. ] I went on a date, I guess.

[ he doesn't laugh, although he cracks a smile, maybe thinking about what a date with jenny quantum might be likely to involve. swearing, he imagines. and probably a lot of her pushing the other person around. he still vaguely remembers jenny all but bullying larsa into taking her out, what feels like a lifetime ago.

before, of course, she'd decide to go ahead and take over another country. he wonders, absently, why it is that he seems to care more about her after he's killed her, instead of before. ]

It's either a date or it isn't. [ he pauses, considering what reasons she might have for being vague on the specifics. ] How was it?

[ she shrugs noncommittally, lifting the pizza to her mouth to take a bite before she can be bothered to elaborate: ]

It was okay. [ a lukewarm review, on the surface. but she had enjoyed it, which was all the more reason to act like she hadn't enjoyed it too much. she doesn't want to seem too much like a normal teenage girl-- even though that part of her definitely exists. ] Karkat's kind of a weirdo, so.

[ it's safe to say that she likes him. ]

Dating might be a fun way to burn time while I plan my next diabolical takeover.

[ karkat, karkat... the name vaguely rings a bell, but he can't associate with it a face in his mind, given the amount of time since they last spoke, so he shrugs it off and smirks at her. because yeah, he can read in between the lines enough to recognize that she probably wouldn't be giving him the time of day if she didn't think he was worth it. ]

Hey, go easy on him. [ though he imagines she'll just take that as incitement to bully him further. then his face grows serious again, and he leans against the edge of the counter, tipping his head to try and see if he can catch a glimpse of her tattoo. ]

Did you ever register? [ he just about knows the answer he can expect, but at least he can say he asked. ]

[ it's true-- going easy isn't something jenny quantum usually does with anybody, no matter how much she likes them. maybe the concept of her is still too big for the real, physical girl. there's still too much to live up to, too much power and responsibility. she can't always see what's there in front of her. maybe that's why the rift between her and what friends she once had is so wide now.

she takes another bite of pizza before responding to the question they both already know the answer to: ]

No. Holiday can fuck off. He's not my dad.

[ no one tells jenny quantum what to do. ]

Registration looks like it's treating you real nice though. It's cozy. You could almost pretend a family lives here, if you wanted.

[ 'not my dad' seems to be the perpetual refrain jenny invokes whenever she doesn't want to do something, and bradbury can't help the way the corner of his lip finds itself tugging up, just a touch. some things never change. ]

Why not? Wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen around here. Hell, we've even got the pool for it. [ he nods vaguely in the direction of the backyard, before growing quiet and thoughtful again. ]

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but might as well enjoy it while I can. [ his finger scratches at the tattoo on his wrist, absently. ] Never know when the world might end again.

[ right. there's always a megadisaster lurking around the corner. at least jenny has had the good grace to avoid causing one herself-- so far. for now, she seems content to eat pizza, like a normal teenager. ]

Yeah. Enjoy it while you can. [ surprisingly, that doesn't come out as mockingly as it could. ] With this group, it's just a matter of fucking time anyway. So, better get your fill of playing daddy, because it's not gonna last.

[ it didn't last before. ]

[ those sorts of comments are just about par for the course for jenny, so he's learned to shrug them off -- mostly. they still sting a little, but by now he's decided that they don't necessarily come from a place of malice.

knowing that and knowing he should keep his mouth shut doesn't stop him from blurting out what comes next: ]

Yeah, well I figure it's always either one thing or the other. Either dads get tired of looking after their kids, or kids get tired of getting looked after. [ he glances at her, bundle of skinny limbs and teenage resentment that she is, and raises a brow. ]

[ it's hard to tell if she's disappointed that he hardly flinches at her comments, but she lets it go without pointing it out. maybe bradbury's skin is thicker now, or maybe he's just used to her. she isn't sure how healthy the latter would be.

dryly, she responds as she picks at her pasta a bit, playing with her food like her parents probably taught her not to: ]

Yeah? Let me know when you get tired.

[ either one's a terrifying prospect, for sure. ]

Don't hold your breath. I'm pretty sure you're gonna outlive me anyway. [ he watches her play with her food, considering commenting on it before he simply moves away, getting the fridge open again and pouring two glasses of orange juice out, carrying them over to where she's sitting and placing one firmly on the counter. ]

Here. Growing spirits of the century need their vitamin C too.

Gee, thanks, Dad.

[ it's mocking-- and completely different from the way she'd called him the same thing a year ago, bleeding out in salt water. but she still accepts the orange juice, picking it up and drinking a little to wash down her pizza and pasta. ]

Too bad vitamins don't make a girl more bullet proof.

[ he tenses, when she says it, because there it is -- what he's been waiting for all evening, from the moment he realized who was sitting in his window. she's never expressed a desire for revenge, despite the bitter, caustic words she left him with when she came back.

there's nothing normal about it, when he thinks about it. but then again, jenny isn't normal -- and neither is he, not anymore.

so he lets it go in a soft, drawn-out sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. ]

Must not be the right kind of vitamins.

[ her face doesn't give much away-- no hints as to whether or not she'd been joking with him in that way of hers, or if she was even over it enough after all this time to joke about it. she just takes another bite of pizza, letting his answer linger between them before she speaks up again: ]

You like it, huh. Having people to take care of. Terry, and the others. What's it do for you, Rick? Make you feel useful? Needed?

Edited 2014-03-08 23:01 (UTC)

[ it feels like she's asked him this question before -- differently, maybe -- but bradbury honestly can't be sure, and neither can he remember what he might have answered the first time. He gives the question its due consideration instead, sipping thoughtfully at his orange juice, and he nods. ]

It makes me happy. I'd like to think it makes 'em happy too. [ he shrugs. ] Could just be wishful thinking, though.

[ it's a favorite soft spot of hers, one she won't let go of easily. maybe because she'd felt betrayed by father figures so many times before. maybe because she truthfully wants to understand why he makes so many sacrifices for fuck-ups like her and terry.

jenny sets her plate aside, digging into her pockets for her pack of cigarettes. ]

You should figure out how to be selfish before someone fucks you up too bad for you to get over it, Rick.

[ he'd tease her for being worried about him, in her own gruff way, but he's not so sure that's safe ground. then again, with jenny quantum, there really isn't any such thing.

fortunately, the movement of her hands provides a convenient distraction, and he sighs a little, hip nudging him off the counter so he can place his hand on it instead. it's the tableau for a sitcom, a grown man in pajamas with his arms akimbo scowling at a surly teenager, except they don't have an audience or canned laughter to go with it. ]

Hey. Not in the house.

[ it's something she hasn't fully acknowledged again yet-- that she still cares. maybe she even cares more than before. and it isn't necessarily a good thing. all her suppressed feelings, the violence that hums in her vein, and that power... if anything ever really hurt rick bradbury, it's impossible to say what she would do. something terrible.

you could never tell that by looking at her now. she glances at him only briefly when he chides her, rolling her eyes and proceeding to tap out a cigarette, which she presses unlit to her mouth as she tucks her pack away. ]

You're still not my fucking boss. [ the cigarette bobs as her mouth forms the mocking words. ] Maybe you should just stop trying.

[ he can't help huffing a little in exasperation. the temptation to reach out and tug the cigarette from her mouth is great, but it's a little too juvenile even for him; he'll wait until it looks like she's actually lighting it up before he does anything. ]

My house, my rules. [ he shrugs, lightly. ] That ain't bossing you around, that's just manners.

[ since clearly, her parents hadn't done the best job of drumming it into her... and hadn't been the best frame of reference, either. ]

[ jenny doesn't make him wait long. soon enough, she's doing that thing-- the one where she snaps her fingers to bring up a spark to light her cigarette with. it's true that her manners are terrible, though not for apollo's lack of trying. she'd just turned out to take the worst of both her fathers-- midnighter's roughness and apollo's passive aggression. ]

You know I don't have any fucking manners.

[ she shrugs. ]

Is that what you wanna talk about, my fucking manners?

[ he does grab for the cigarette then, aiming to tug it away from her lips with the tips of his fingers, though he's not so sure how successful such a gambit is likely to be. ]

You're asking me? I'm not the one showing up in people's windows and scaring the crap out of their dogs. What do you wanna talk about?

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ocean ward and somber, slumber sleeping.

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