Post by Baby Jenks on Apr 11, 2016 19:43:49 GMT -5
"Hey - you up? Jenks?"
She glances around, but no one seems to be looking her way. Typical. Staring down into the big bowl of chocolate ice cream, studded with nuts and marshmallow, she digs out another bite.
"Jenks? Jenks. Hey - Baby Jenks. Baaaaabyyyy Jeeeeennnksss. HEY. JENKS."
The sharpening tone brings her head up again, the man across from her creasing his heavy brow. "Something the matter?" Philadelphia English accent cutting through the café chatter, he reaches a hand across the table to shake her arm.
"HEY. JENKS!! WAKE UP!!!"
A hand grabs her shoulder, shaking it roughly - her spoon clattering to the patio with an obnoxious little tinkle of silverware. Her fist flies through the air and connects - with something hard and wooden?
Opening her eyes, she sees a pair of weedy eyes peering at her from behind the safety of an overturned kitchen chair, the little sneak holding it like a lion tamer might.
Smart of him.
"The fuck, man. It's - wait, what time is it?"
"This is your 8pm wake up call, princess! Time to get up."
"I was eating rocky road ice cream with Rocky Balboa. You ruined it."
"He'll thank me later."
Carrying on a conversation to herself in a mocking, mumbling undertone, she hauls herself upright.
"Come work with me", she said. "It'll be great." she said. "I like eating the placenta of demon fetuses." she probably said to herself instead of asking for hot cocoa or some shit.
"Dude, what? You goin' crazy like big sissy?"
"I will straight up fucking cut you, Rodric."
The bloodshot, baby shit green-brown eyes above the rim of the chair narrow. "Fuck you. I told you - the name is fuckin' Sketch."
"Mkay, Fuckin' Sketch, best get the Fuckin' Fuck out of my Fuckin' Way."
"Such LANGUAGE for a lady."
"Who you callin' a lady, prettyboy? Get out so I can change."
"Ain't nothin' I wanna see anyway, you probably got a dick the way you act."
Rodric drops the chair in her way and skitters out of her room, slamming the door shut behind him. Jenks briefly considers yanking a leg off that chair and giving him a reason to find a good proctologist, but the commanding thought stops her:
"Not on the list."
Rummaging around in the duffle bag jammed under her cot, she pulls out a pair of jeans. Outside of a brownish-reddish stain splattered lightly across one cuff, they seemed okay... except...
"Says things'll be great, don't even have a place to do laundry..."
Wrinkling her nose, she does the deed - one sniff check of the crotch later and they're being zipped up, her last clean tee going under a nondescript olive green hoodie.
"Tells me to come work with her, she's got a place for me... doesn't tell me it's a shit hole above a bad curry restaurant."
Jamming 2-day old socks (bit stiff, but not holding shape on their own) into her favorite Docs, she sets the chair back near the equally rickety table, beer bottles clanking together at the impact. Slinging her smaller but no less "I got this from an Army surplus store and probably didn't pay for it" bag over her shoulder, she grabs her smokes and stuffs some paper money in her front pocket, heading out the door.
Jenks thuds down the back (read: only) stairs leading from her apartment, winding around the corner walls of what she knew was the restaurant below. And maybe another apartment, unless she had the shittiest water heater in the known universe. The ideas of an equally tiny rat's nest of an apartment being wedged into the building seemed just as plausible as her having a two gallon water heater. Kicking a few pizza boxes out of her way before losing her patience and flinging them into the trash bags lining the stairwell (YOU try paying for dump fees every time you gotta throw away your trash) to deal with later, she pushes through the door to the outside, locking it behind her.
"What took you so long? Had to adjust the fellas?"
"Get bent, Rodric."
"I TOLD you, it's -" His voice falters at her black glare.
"Y'ain't on the list, Rodric, not today..." His expression clears, going startled as Jenks puts her hand flat on his chest, slamming him into the grimy wall behind. "...but I can pencil you in."
She releases him, popping one earbud into place and looping the other over her ear, a guitar intro followed by Maynard's raspy vocals adding a soundtrack to her day.
"Today? You know it's nighttime, right?"
"Yes. That's what they call it when it goes all dark like this. But this? This is when I work."
Striding off through the dark, she grimaces as her music is interrupted by the jarring notes of ringstone-style Metallica. A swipe of her finger and the call opens, Rodric watching with poorly disguised interest.
"Hello?"
*silence*
"A tag match? Who?"
*silence followed by a burst of laughter*
"Razor Blade?"
*silence*
"Yeah, I know there was a whole 'nother name in there, but Razor Blade? Really? C'mon. I've worked the streets -" Jenks pauses to shoot Rodric a deathglare at his snickering. "- long enough to know that the badder the name, the easier the mark. Then we've got... who again?"
*silence*
"Terrance 'The Real Thing' Brown? Yeah, I saw his performance. Terrance looks pretty legit, I'll give you that, but between you and me what chance have they got?"
*silence*
"That's about what I thought, too."
*silence, Rodric's ratty sneakers scraping at the wet, uneven asphalt*
"Yeah. Later."
Sketch fidgets for a moment before chasing after her as the music resumes with her strides.
"What'd she say?"
"What else is she gonna say?"
"Bloodshed?"
"Bloodshed. Now kindly fuck off - time for the Darkness to get to work."
She glances around, but no one seems to be looking her way. Typical. Staring down into the big bowl of chocolate ice cream, studded with nuts and marshmallow, she digs out another bite.
"Jenks? Jenks. Hey - Baby Jenks. Baaaaabyyyy Jeeeeennnksss. HEY. JENKS."
The sharpening tone brings her head up again, the man across from her creasing his heavy brow. "Something the matter?" Philadelphia English accent cutting through the café chatter, he reaches a hand across the table to shake her arm.
"HEY. JENKS!! WAKE UP!!!"
A hand grabs her shoulder, shaking it roughly - her spoon clattering to the patio with an obnoxious little tinkle of silverware. Her fist flies through the air and connects - with something hard and wooden?
Opening her eyes, she sees a pair of weedy eyes peering at her from behind the safety of an overturned kitchen chair, the little sneak holding it like a lion tamer might.
Smart of him.
"The fuck, man. It's - wait, what time is it?"
"This is your 8pm wake up call, princess! Time to get up."
"I was eating rocky road ice cream with Rocky Balboa. You ruined it."
"He'll thank me later."
Carrying on a conversation to herself in a mocking, mumbling undertone, she hauls herself upright.
"Come work with me", she said. "It'll be great." she said. "I like eating the placenta of demon fetuses." she probably said to herself instead of asking for hot cocoa or some shit.
"Dude, what? You goin' crazy like big sissy?"
"I will straight up fucking cut you, Rodric."
The bloodshot, baby shit green-brown eyes above the rim of the chair narrow. "Fuck you. I told you - the name is fuckin' Sketch."
"Mkay, Fuckin' Sketch, best get the Fuckin' Fuck out of my Fuckin' Way."
"Such LANGUAGE for a lady."
"Who you callin' a lady, prettyboy? Get out so I can change."
"Ain't nothin' I wanna see anyway, you probably got a dick the way you act."
Rodric drops the chair in her way and skitters out of her room, slamming the door shut behind him. Jenks briefly considers yanking a leg off that chair and giving him a reason to find a good proctologist, but the commanding thought stops her:
"Not on the list."
Rummaging around in the duffle bag jammed under her cot, she pulls out a pair of jeans. Outside of a brownish-reddish stain splattered lightly across one cuff, they seemed okay... except...
"Says things'll be great, don't even have a place to do laundry..."
Wrinkling her nose, she does the deed - one sniff check of the crotch later and they're being zipped up, her last clean tee going under a nondescript olive green hoodie.
"Tells me to come work with her, she's got a place for me... doesn't tell me it's a shit hole above a bad curry restaurant."
Jamming 2-day old socks (bit stiff, but not holding shape on their own) into her favorite Docs, she sets the chair back near the equally rickety table, beer bottles clanking together at the impact. Slinging her smaller but no less "I got this from an Army surplus store and probably didn't pay for it" bag over her shoulder, she grabs her smokes and stuffs some paper money in her front pocket, heading out the door.
Jenks thuds down the back (read: only) stairs leading from her apartment, winding around the corner walls of what she knew was the restaurant below. And maybe another apartment, unless she had the shittiest water heater in the known universe. The ideas of an equally tiny rat's nest of an apartment being wedged into the building seemed just as plausible as her having a two gallon water heater. Kicking a few pizza boxes out of her way before losing her patience and flinging them into the trash bags lining the stairwell (YOU try paying for dump fees every time you gotta throw away your trash) to deal with later, she pushes through the door to the outside, locking it behind her.
"What took you so long? Had to adjust the fellas?"
"Get bent, Rodric."
"I TOLD you, it's -" His voice falters at her black glare.
"Y'ain't on the list, Rodric, not today..." His expression clears, going startled as Jenks puts her hand flat on his chest, slamming him into the grimy wall behind. "...but I can pencil you in."
She releases him, popping one earbud into place and looping the other over her ear, a guitar intro followed by Maynard's raspy vocals adding a soundtrack to her day.
"Today? You know it's nighttime, right?"
"Yes. That's what they call it when it goes all dark like this. But this? This is when I work."
Striding off through the dark, she grimaces as her music is interrupted by the jarring notes of ringstone-style Metallica. A swipe of her finger and the call opens, Rodric watching with poorly disguised interest.
"Hello?"
*silence*
"A tag match? Who?"
*silence followed by a burst of laughter*
"Razor Blade?"
*silence*
"Yeah, I know there was a whole 'nother name in there, but Razor Blade? Really? C'mon. I've worked the streets -" Jenks pauses to shoot Rodric a deathglare at his snickering. "- long enough to know that the badder the name, the easier the mark. Then we've got... who again?"
*silence*
"Terrance 'The Real Thing' Brown? Yeah, I saw his performance. Terrance looks pretty legit, I'll give you that, but between you and me what chance have they got?"
*silence*
"That's about what I thought, too."
*silence, Rodric's ratty sneakers scraping at the wet, uneven asphalt*
"Yeah. Later."
Sketch fidgets for a moment before chasing after her as the music resumes with her strides.
"What'd she say?"
"What else is she gonna say?"
"Bloodshed?"
"Bloodshed. Now kindly fuck off - time for the Darkness to get to work."
