[ Jesse's still adjusting to the weight of everything (that ditch, that glow-eyed kid lifting his van like it’s made of cardboard), but somehow, it’s not the strength that sticks with him. It’s what Jack said when they shook hands. I really like your tattoo. Like it actually meant something. He flexes his fingers on the wheel, glancing down at the abstract, tribal-style scorpion crawling up the back of his wrist. ] It's a Borneo scorpion. A symbol of protection, they said. [ He explains, not that it ever kept much danger off his back. But it meant something when he got it. Still does, even if it’s faded around the edges now. ]
Sucks you can’t keep one. But maybe we could, I dunno, draw one on? Marker or pen, or something. Not permanent, obviously, but it could still look badass.
[ His tone is easy, casual, but there's a thread of sincerity underneath it. The kind that slips out when he’s not thinking too hard. When someone surprises him by giving a damn. Jack talks about scaring people, about how even his family sometimes flinches. Jesse doesn’t push. He just nods a little, quiet for a beat. ]
Yeah. I get that. Some people go off, like, bad first impressions instead of stickin' around to find out more. But what I came to find is those just aren't your people, man.
[ He doesn’t elaborate. Some truths don’t need all the details spelled out. Jack starts fiddling with the radio, and Jesse half-expects something weird or churchy to come through the speakers. But what comes on instead is low, raw, and guitar-heavy. It's something with grit in the vocals and just enough soul to hit his chest. Jack lights up beside him, and Jesse follows suit, a little rough around the edges, a little used to putting up a front. He's always chastised for not taking things seriously enough, so being able to let loose a little bit is nice. ]
Your family’s got good taste. [ Jesse looks over at Jack briefly before looking back towards the road. ] So you got siblings? Or is it, uh, cousins and stuff?
[ It’s a simple question, but there’s something tentative behind it, like Jesse’s not just making conversation, but actually giving a shit. There's also the sensitive topic of his own family. The parents he doesn't get along with, the younger brother they accuse him of corrupting. He wants to understand this kid, though, who offered help without asking for a damn thing back. So, asking questions is a risk worth taking. The van rolls forward, tires humming steadily against the road, and for the first time in a while, Jesse doesn’t feel like the world’s trying to spit him out. ]
no subject
Sucks you can’t keep one. But maybe we could, I dunno, draw one on? Marker or pen, or something. Not permanent, obviously, but it could still look badass.
[ His tone is easy, casual, but there's a thread of sincerity underneath it. The kind that slips out when he’s not thinking too hard. When someone surprises him by giving a damn. Jack talks about scaring people, about how even his family sometimes flinches. Jesse doesn’t push. He just nods a little, quiet for a beat. ]
Yeah. I get that. Some people go off, like, bad first impressions instead of stickin' around to find out more. But what I came to find is those just aren't your people, man.
[ He doesn’t elaborate. Some truths don’t need all the details spelled out. Jack starts fiddling with the radio, and Jesse half-expects something weird or churchy to come through the speakers. But what comes on instead is low, raw, and guitar-heavy. It's something with grit in the vocals and just enough soul to hit his chest. Jack lights up beside him, and Jesse follows suit, a little rough around the edges, a little used to putting up a front. He's always chastised for not taking things seriously enough, so being able to let loose a little bit is nice. ]
Your family’s got good taste. [ Jesse looks over at Jack briefly before looking back towards the road. ] So you got siblings? Or is it, uh, cousins and stuff?
[ It’s a simple question, but there’s something tentative behind it, like Jesse’s not just making conversation, but actually giving a shit. There's also the sensitive topic of his own family. The parents he doesn't get along with, the younger brother they accuse him of corrupting. He wants to understand this kid, though, who offered help without asking for a damn thing back. So, asking questions is a risk worth taking. The van rolls forward, tires humming steadily against the road, and for the first time in a while, Jesse doesn’t feel like the world’s trying to spit him out. ]