Camme & Jay - Wee hours of Wendsday Morning

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

Running into Jay early in the morning Cammie tries to impart some 'wisdom' which isn't well received.

They wouldn't go away. That was the problem. That was what set him in a foul mood from the point that he opened the door of his suite. The metal wings were out without even a faint desire to have them there in the first place and no matter what he did, how hard he willed it, they wouldn't go back in. Instead, they stuck out like a pair of guardians behind his black sweater and Jay pulled up his hoodie so he wouldn't had to look at anyone. This time of night, he half expected to see Kurt or some other insomniac up, but no one else.

Pausing outside of the door, his yellow eyes searched down the hallway, listening quietly. He wasn't sure which one of the doors was Garrison, or if he was in the staff dorms. He wanted to find out, wanted to just talk to him but instead turned, black converse squeaking against the floor and made his way down the hallway, heading for the kitchen.

Cammie had raided the fridge again. And had also gone and raided Lil's fridge, though she hadn't told the other woman yet. An invite to do so was an open one to Cammie. So she had. But she had her arms full of what would be making a very special sandwich.

She almost dropped some of the mystery meat and turned around, picked it up and walked forward without really looking up and almost walked into a kid. With wings. Made out of metal. That was new. It must be the kid that Dr. Grey had written about.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Nothin'," he said in a flat tone, side stepping her in one careful swift movement that dodged her even if she had almost smacked into him. He was very aware of his surroundings and the people within his circle of personal space. He understood why Kevin maintained his space. But where Kevin didn't want to hurt people, Jay was very much inclined to hurt them.

He got to the fridge and opened it, the light inside slightly blinding from the dimmed lights in the kitchen. A black gloved hand reached out, picking up the OJ and going to fetch a glass. He wasn't surprised he didn't feel the cold of the container, despite the fact that the gloves were cut off at the first joints of the fingers and poured himself some orange juice, ignoring the other body in the kitchen.

He moved in a way that reminded Cammie of someone who was looking for a fight. She knew the stance because it was one she used often enough. There was a grace to it she never had though. When Cammie was in the mood to fight, she in the mood to break things in a way that had nothing to do with grace.

"Yeah, nothing. Think you could be more tense?" she asked, making her sandwich of mystery and death. Well, death only in the way that the meat was well, well past dead. To her it smelled good. "I mean, you look like you might still be able to bend your spine."

After the first drink, he could smell the meat, the foul smell of something gone bad and tried to ignore it, instead focusing on the orange juice that he set down on the counter. His back was not quite to her, no, he would never leave his back exposed, but he wanted to. It was a normal reaction to do that to people you didn't want to talk to. But normal and instinct had two sets of very different rules.

"Ah don't have a spine," he said. Not a real spine anyways, but she didn't care from the way she spoke and he didn't care to tell her. Instead, Jay returned to the fridge, wanting something, craving anything but finding nothing and he wasn't exactly a cook.

Cammie went about putting the sandwich on some bread and started to add hot mustard she had found, "Funny, you don't look spineless. Just pissed off. Now I know I don't know what happened to you but carrying it around like that isn't going to fix a damn thing. I'd say 'trust me I know.' But it pisses me off when people do that to me, so yeah."

"Yeah," he agreed, though it wasn't really an agreement. He didn't get into it specifically what he was relating to with her and it could be that he was just saying yes, just to get her to stop talking to him. But then he spoke again. "Ah ain't pissed off. This is just how Ah am." New person with no knowledge of who he had been before. There was no reason for him to try and explain that either.

"Yeah right," Cammie said, shaking the mustard bottle and consequently got it buried in it. Hmm, Tabasco could fix this. She fetched that, "It doesn't sit right on you. Don't think you can BS me just 'cause I'm new. Doesn't work that way."

"Whatever," he replied, settling on some steaks in the freezer and threw them into the fridge to thaw out the next day. So much for eating today. "This is how Ah am now," he explained a little more clearly, but it didn't lack the annoyance that was in his voice.

"Yeah. And now is a big, dark nothing," Cammie said, sucking some Tabasco off her fingers. "Been there, done that. It gets old. Not that it doesn't feel like the end of everything. Oooh, that's good," she muttered the last in reference to her food. "But it's not. The end, that is. So, you might as well start dealing with it." She didn't have any idea of what happened, but she knew the stance, the expressions, everything. She had been there, done that. Well, the mental anguish part. She didn't want to know the why, it wasn't her business. But she also felt compelled to say something when standing next to a wall of teenaged emo.

Grabbing a Coke, he put the orange juice away but left his glass on the counter. A vanilla yogurt was selected and he grabbed a spoon, tuning out Cammie's all knowing ramble on what it was like to be whatever she was talking about. It was almost like listening to Logan, except he felt that he and Logan had a lot more in common than whatever Miss New Girl thought she had.

And he had a lot more respect for Logan than he new for newer people. "Go fuck yourself." There. He dealt with it and headed out of the kitchen.

The cheerful reply that drifted out behind him was, "Sure! It's a lot more fun than sulking."