not_that_spike (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_that_spike) wrote2008-07-24 07:52 pm
not_that_spike) wrote2008-07-24 07:52 pm
(no subject)
"Okay, check it out." He's never been big on the whole shut your eyes and don't open them until I say so thing. For one, it's annoying as hell and for another, who can stand it anyhow? But still, this was kind of worth a little bit of surprise.
In Beth's arms, Junior's eyes go wide and she lets out a perfect "ooh." As if in all her year and a half of wisdom, she remembers this place? He doubts it; they've been to a hell of a lot of places in her short lifetime and not all by choice. But this place is kind of cool: it's far enough outside Paris so not very many people just happen by but they can still be in the city in just under twenty minutes at a leisurely walking pace. One thing he's noticed on this trip is that it's the cities where people have congregated, and out of necessity. When half a planet's population just drops dead, it leaves a lot of empty space. Outskirts that used to be convenient when everyone drove are now considered too far out, a pain in the ass, dangerous. Even with bicycles, people want to be where other people are and he kind of can't blame them. There's safety in numbers: call it a tribal mentality or whatever, but the human population as a whole has reverted back to that in a lot of ways.
One bounty hunter displaced in time and space happens to think that's just about perfect: it means he's got fifteen or twenty minutes of space between him and most visitors and if he's here, he can take off that cloak and just be himself. Spend some quality time with his woman and their little aijou and not have to worry about someone knocking at the door to take a census or any of that shit. And this place... well, it's pretty cool. Like a lot of once-valuable (and now largely useless) properties outside Paris it's built of stone, which keeps it warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It's all on one floor which means no stairs to navigate with a sleeping Junior, and almost all of the windows are still intact. The setup's cozy too: there's a working kitchen, two bedrooms right next to each other, living room or parlor or whatever the fuck the French call those salles, and a bathroom.
With a working toilet.
They passed by this place on their trek into Paris however long ago it was -- months now -- and he took notice of it then but never figured they'd be sticking around long-term enough to warrant a return trip. But now that it looks like they'll be here for a while, why the hell not? They have to live somewhere, and he'd just as soon it be a place where he can actually take off the damn cloak once in a while.
"I may just be a humble bounty hunter, ma'am, but I think I'm going in for a new career as a real estate agent." There's even a yard -- overgrown and its stone walls in need of a bunch of repair work -- where they could grow... uh... tobacco. Yeah, that's it. And fly off into the sunset in their personal spacecraft-built-for-three some day. "What do you think? Too far from the bright city lights?"
Shit, he could even smoke here... if he could get his hands on any cigs.
In Beth's arms, Junior's eyes go wide and she lets out a perfect "ooh." As if in all her year and a half of wisdom, she remembers this place? He doubts it; they've been to a hell of a lot of places in her short lifetime and not all by choice. But this place is kind of cool: it's far enough outside Paris so not very many people just happen by but they can still be in the city in just under twenty minutes at a leisurely walking pace. One thing he's noticed on this trip is that it's the cities where people have congregated, and out of necessity. When half a planet's population just drops dead, it leaves a lot of empty space. Outskirts that used to be convenient when everyone drove are now considered too far out, a pain in the ass, dangerous. Even with bicycles, people want to be where other people are and he kind of can't blame them. There's safety in numbers: call it a tribal mentality or whatever, but the human population as a whole has reverted back to that in a lot of ways.
One bounty hunter displaced in time and space happens to think that's just about perfect: it means he's got fifteen or twenty minutes of space between him and most visitors and if he's here, he can take off that cloak and just be himself. Spend some quality time with his woman and their little aijou and not have to worry about someone knocking at the door to take a census or any of that shit. And this place... well, it's pretty cool. Like a lot of once-valuable (and now largely useless) properties outside Paris it's built of stone, which keeps it warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It's all on one floor which means no stairs to navigate with a sleeping Junior, and almost all of the windows are still intact. The setup's cozy too: there's a working kitchen, two bedrooms right next to each other, living room or parlor or whatever the fuck the French call those salles, and a bathroom.
With a working toilet.
They passed by this place on their trek into Paris however long ago it was -- months now -- and he took notice of it then but never figured they'd be sticking around long-term enough to warrant a return trip. But now that it looks like they'll be here for a while, why the hell not? They have to live somewhere, and he'd just as soon it be a place where he can actually take off the damn cloak once in a while.
"I may just be a humble bounty hunter, ma'am, but I think I'm going in for a new career as a real estate agent." There's even a yard -- overgrown and its stone walls in need of a bunch of repair work -- where they could grow... uh... tobacco. Yeah, that's it. And fly off into the sunset in their personal spacecraft-built-for-three some day. "What do you think? Too far from the bright city lights?"
Shit, he could even smoke here... if he could get his hands on any cigs.
no subject
Yeah, she gets a kiss too. He may be a hell of a stubborn S.O.B., but deep down inside there's this part of him that just about no one gets to see. Jet saw it... maybe once or twice. Faye never did. Julia... well, she was a different story altogether. But Beth? She gets to know all about it, all about all of him.
"Kiss," says Junior with a little bit of delight. "Now peek-a-boo?"
He knew she was smart. "Soon, toughest kickboxer in the west. Soon." He kind of wonders how long it'll be until he can make the walk from here to downtown Paris or downtown to here without the cloak. He hopes that happens soon too. But first he's going to finish this cigarette, damn it, because it's been so long since he was able to just stand around and smoke one. He's... not a selfless person. He's never been a selfless person: there's a hell of a good personal reason behind all the things he does. Sometimes, over the course of the years, it's been no fear of death making all his decisions, or maybe even a little bit of a death wish doing it for him. Sometimes it's been apathy. Sometimes it's been wondering if it was all just a big fucking dream, and the more things he does, the more chance he has of waking up and figuring it out.
So yeah, staying out here with Beth and Junior instead of crawling through that small door and back into the bar isn't something he's doing out of the goodness of his heart; there are plenty of people who'll say he doesn't have any of that. The truth is he's here because it's where he wants to be. Because he's already lost the one person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world, and he had to lose her three fucking times and it never got any easier and... he's not doing it again. In fact, he'll do pretty much anything to keep from losing Beth.
When the cigarette's done and ground out underfoot, he nods to Junior. "Now it's time, cowgirl. Ready?" He gives his own Beth one more kiss -- on the lips this time -- before putting on that cloak again. That whole concept of things being both blessing and curse flits through his mind and threatens to lodge there before he reminds himself his favorite deadly sin is the sin of overanalysis.
"Spi all gone." Junior's pronouncement would be a lot more solemn if it wasn't followed by a huge yawn and the telltale heavy eyelids indicating it's probably nap time. It's just one of those things he'd convinced himself he'd never ever know about, but now takes as a matter of course.
"If it wouldn't look ridiculous, Slim, I'd push the carriage back."
At least they have a carriage.
no subject
Maybe there is a little bit of pride in her voice. She can't help it. As far as she's been concerned, it's never really been her place to be proud of Spike.
But she is anyway.
"It's okay," she directs to where Spike disappeared, slinging the straps of the diaper bag over her shoulder and letting little Beth nestle her head in the crook of her neck. "I don't mind pushing the carriage. But if we ever want people to think this house is haunted, I'm leaving the work to you."
no subject
Beneath the cloak, there's a huge fucking grin on his face. He runs a little checklist in his mind: get locks for the door, fix those broken windows, get clean linens. Hell, get cleaning supplies and fuck if he knows why that sounds like it might be fun for a change, but anything beside living in this cloak is going to be fun for a change.
What he's most looking forward to are quiet evenings here with Beth and Junior... and nights with Beth again when the little one's asleep. Yeah, that'll be nice: it's been a long time since he hasn't had to sleep with one eye open, listening for stray sounds that mean cover the fuck up and be quiet.
Yeah. He's looking forward to nights just like that. This place isn't Venus and it's not the House of Arch, but they'll make it theirs. As they step outside and shut the door behind them, Junior's eyes close hard and he decides what the hell, no one can see him anyway: he leans over and kisses both Beths invisibly, then falls into step next to Slim for the walk back to the city.
He's pretty sure Hero will be interested in hearing about what they found in that closet.