fear, pain, or lullabies {Jesse}

[Jahel Yosef]

«Jahel Retta Yosef
male; thirty-two years

A small dog scurried through the house, nose pressed to the floor - a tiny black form with tan paws, claws clicking on the bare kitchen tiles. Curiously it wound between chairs, pausing once to sniff at a minuscule crumb and licking it up with a long pink tongue. He paused to look up at the counter; whining briefly, he put his paws up on the wooden surface, muzzle extended towards a plate of goodies piled high above him.

The door banged open. The dog swung its head around swiftly, tongue licking its chops, nervous; upon seeing who it was (or smelling – seeing as it was a dog) he quickly skittered away. Any dog with half a brain would have realized by now that Jahel was not a friendly face. Even some of the slower ones, like Ein, had gotten more than a hint.

Jahel watched the small dachshund flee with a decidedly peeved expression on his face. It was lucky it had the good sense to abandon ship – so to speak – because Jahel was not in his usual mood today. He was off; he was disturbed; his ‘social’ meter was cracked and it was beginning to reveal some of the real man underneath, which wasn’t as pretty a sight as his outside. There was a hint of aggression underneath his normally cool blue eyes. Occasionally they shifted to the left, as though he were constantly in idle and distracted thought, then forwards again. Each end was slightly narrowed, his lips pressed thin.

He took a sweet from the plate Frederick was ogling at and stuffed it carelessly in his mouth. A moment later one would find him resting on one of the expensive satin couches, the television turned on to some program like Project Runway or whatever he liked to watch. But Jahel was silent, his eyes distant, still unfocused. Sometimes his lips moved, and a cord of muscle would move in his throat.

In a corner of the room the dachshund stayed hidden under the coffee table, watching tentatively from behind one of the wooden legs.

[Jesse Adams]

Unlike a certain man skulking around the compound, Jesse was, for once, not ‘off’. He was having a good day. And after the shit that had gone down recently (fights with Jake, freak outs in Max’s office, and that encounter with Willow by the lake...), he was glad for it. He’d been studying in his room for most of the day, with only Gambit for company, though Lala had ventured up with treats for him. And speaking of the twins, he was looking forward to a lesson in gunplay later in the afternoon. Normally, studying wouldn’t elicit such a gleeful response from the sullen teenager, but when you were studying history’s finest moments (the holocaust, for example), and learning how to apply those same theories in today’s world, it was good. He was also taking a liking to learning German, only because everything you said sounded so angry.

He grinned and he walked down the stairs, Gambit trailing after him like the ever faithful animal he was. Jesse rubbed the dog’s ear before wandering into the kitchen. Lala’s treats had tided him over for a little while, but he was hungry again. Gabriel had said he was growing. He didn’t know if that was true or not, but he was hungry. He eyed up the rest of the sweet things and took two, promising Gambit a little corner of one. Once he had his food, he padded over to the common room, the massive Mastiff mix still following him.

When he first saw someone in the room, he paused. Jake had been avoiding him for the most part, since Gabriel’s blow up at him. Served the bastard right. But upon a closer look, he realized it was Jahel, not Jake.

Jahel was... odd. Jesse had never been sure about him. Though Gabriel kept him safe by simply making an example of Jake, and warning against threatening his protégé, Jesse knew he wasn’t everyone’s favourite in the compound. And he could deal with that. As long as the top dog liked him well enough, he was content. So, he stole into the room and settled on a different couch, keeping a healthy distance between himself and the older man. Gambit jumped up to curl by Jesse’s feet, which made the blond boy smile before tossing a look to Jahel. “... Project Runway? Y’ looking for a new designer for your prom dress, Jahel?” And you wonder why you aren’t the favourite. Shame on you, Jesse. Just because he was Gabriel’s favourite didn’t really give him the right to poke at the other members. But he did it anyway. Bastard.

[Jahel Yosef]

«Jahel Retta Yosef
male; thirty-two years

Jahel blinked, then looked up at Jesse with curiously sharp eyes. He did not seem baited enough to give Jesse a retort, but he did give him a smooth smile and a flash of his white teeth. ”Well, if it isn’t Jesse Adams.” In his current state of mind, one could almost see the forked tongue slide out between his lips. ”You smell like a dog.”

In Jahel’s terms this was almost as bad of an insult as if he’d beat his father and raped his mother.

But other than that he seemed friendly enough. Jahel lapsed into a tone one would think appropriate for conversing with children, a friendly kind with just a tinge of a patronizing one. He stretched his shoulder (the one Levi had thought was missing) and gave him another sideways glance, looking over and observing the attitude Jesse seemed to constantly wear. ”So,” he began (resisting a ‘how’s the weather up there’ joke); ”I hear you’ve been doing pretty good with the scraps Jake left. Which is…odd, at your age, but – I can hardly condemn it.” He shrugged. ”You’re well-off considering how young you are. Someone should give you a medal.”

By all accounts he seemed genuine. There wasn’t much sarcasm to it and his tone remained fairly neutral. He only glanced quickly at Gambit curled up at Jesse’s feet, then back up at the boy.

As he waited for his answer, he wondered if Jesse really planned to stop where he was. Probably; the young rarely recognize good opportunity even when it lays in their hands, waiting to be grasped.

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]