Jessica and Namor| Roomies
Sep. 4th, 2014 08:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-jessicajones.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logs Today at Xavier's, Jessica Jones meets Namor Mazur. Sarcasm to follow.
Something here was not right.
Namor paused in the doorway hesitantly. He was shirtless and still a little wet from the shower; towel casually draped across one shower, gym bag in one hand. He frowned a well-practiced frown that might accompany an tick of the eye in someone with less fine control over his disdain, but the Marques de McKenzie was well-practiced in irritation.
The room was off. It was still clean, but the the spartan, barely lived-in atmosphere he had honed and cultivated over the past six months had minor touches of things-moved and new additions. It was almost aspiring to feel lived-in.
The youth’s frown ebbed a little as he remembered an administrative email from the past week, and the pieces fell into place.
“Hello.” This was a broad, projected-statement that was less of a question and more of a statement of arrival.
Jessica heard the click of the door from her position floating above her bed. She had been hovering there for a good hour dozing in and out, but the sound of the door had sparked both her curiosity and the end of her lethargy. She lowered herself slowly and landed without a sound. She moved toward the door and opened it. Her dull brown eyes widened as she took on the man standing in the next room. He was shirtless and was carrying a bag of some kind. Based on the fact that the man was in the suite in such a state, Jessica figured that this must be his royal highness himself: Namor.
‘Alright Jess, time to wear your ovaries on the outside and say hi.’ She ran her hand through her luxurious locks and opened the door. It was introduction time.
His posture remained imperiously unshakable as Jessica emerged, but his eyes searched the woman appraisingly. “Miss Jones,” and a beat, “I apologize for my absence lately. I trust that you’ve settled in adequately?”
Jessica took in the man in front of her. He was attractive, that much was obvious, and he spoke in a way that Jessica supposed was the product of being raised as part of royalty. Still, his polite tones were appreciated, especially since she was always a bit apprehensive about meeting new people.
“It’s nice to meet you, ummm, is there some sort of title I should be using? I mean, I don’t really want to step on other people’s toes. As for me, I wouldn’t mind if you just used ‘Jessica.’ To be honest, I haven’t really noticed your absence. It’s been such a whirlwind, getting used to this place. Still, I guess I have to thank you for your apology anyways. I’ve been settling in fine. This place sure is, well, ritzy. Not like home at all. Still, I think I could come to think of it that way, in time.” She rattled off, offering her hand to Namor as she did so. ‘Way to go Jessica, he’s going to think you’re fucking loony. Well, Matt and Lorna didn’t seem to mind, so maybe he won’t either.’ She thought.
Namor barely blinked at her rambling, but gave Jessica a long look at her comment about “ritzy.” He set the gym bag on the ground and cupped his hands in rest behind his back. “Formally I am the Marqués de McKenzie, Heir Apparent to the Dukedom of Thakkar. ‘Your Grace’ will suffice.”
He shifted his weight as the silence punctuated any growing awkwardness. “I know that many here consider the mansion to be home, but I do not. As such, we should consider setting ground rules for the suite.”
Jessica cringed internally. Shed been around dead people less stiff than this guy.
“Riiiiggghhhttt…rules, okay. Why don’t you start? I have the tiniest inkling that whatever I’d say is going to be covered by you anyway.” Jessica replied as she drew out her notebook and flipped to a blank page. She swiftly scribbled a small note before gesturing for Namor to continue. ‘Note to self, thank Lorna for warning me beforehand.’
“My expectations are simple,” he continued untaunted by the jibe. It was natural Jessica should look to her betters for guidance, afterall. “You clean up your own messes, and I will clean up mine. My room is my space, and I will happily respect your boundaries in turn.”
“Fair enough. Don’t really see myself messing up my own space. And, strangely, I have no desire to root through your unmentionables. We should be good in the woods on those fronts. Anything else?” She asked as she floated up from the floor and into a lotus position. That feeling of awkwardness and discomfort from awhile ago? It had undergone a full metamorphosis into annoyance. What was with royals being such sour grapes anyways? ‘You’d think they’d be nice you know, to inspire loyalty or whatever.’ She thought. ‘Not that I’m not a stone cold bitch sometimes, but at least I’ve got passion. I could use this guy’s cool attitude as an air conditioner. Geezus.’ She thought.
The sarcasm failed to dent Namor’s superiority, or he merely decided to pay no heed to it. Either way, his reaction to Jessica’s acceptance was not underscored by scorn, but instead mild confusion. He squinted his eyes accusingly, and crossed his arms across his chest. “This seems too easy,” he replied flatly.
“Look, Namor, as much as I’d really like to, I’m not here to start a fight after being here for all of five minutes. You don’t touch my stuff, I don’t touch your stuff, seems like an easy enough thing to me. I’m sure that if we run into one another, it’ll be an awkward stare down for all of five seconds before we go our respective ways. I mean, you’re royalty, you should be used to getting what you want, right? That attitude of yours probably helps too. I mean, people probably agree just to get away from you. Don’t worry though, I’ve got quite the tolerance.” Jessica replied with a wink. Her recipe was simple: a pinch of explanation, a dash of reality, and a cup of honesty. Delicious. “Any questions?” She asked as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger casually.
He narrowed his eyes accusingly. “You use as many words as possible to arrive at a simple point. However,” and he swept an arm imperiously, “Your summary is correct if a bit crude. My previous roommate had the latter, but the former is marginally refreshing."
Jessica cringed at the Royal's observation. It was time to put another check into the "people who knew she was a motormouth" category.
"Good. Then we understand each other. Just because I'm apparently a masochist, I have to ask. You kinda seem like you don't want to be here. If so, then why ARE you here?" Jessica asked, her annoyance and anger at the situation dying down a bit. She readied her notepad and well used pencil as she prepared for his answer.
"I assure you that there will not be a test later. Regardless, I have a responsibility to be here."
"Hey, you can use sarcasm. Wow, look at you!" She joked, half teasing. "As for the pen and paper, that's just my investigative mind rearing it's head. If I write it down, I won't forget. Some...things happened and writing things down helps me keep my memory sharp." She added, voice a bit bitter. Her eyes and mouth were suddenly far too dry and she swiftly attempted to wet both of them. She wasn't going to let herself think of that. Not now. She was far more curious about the man in front of her. She stretched out, laying on the air and "supporting" herself with her elbows. "Responsibilities. Got it."She continued, punctuating her words with the scratch of her pencil.
Namor stared at her like she had grown a third head. "I would never demean myself in such a way." He shifted the bag still in his hands contemplatively, as if weighing the options of escape. He wasn't the type to get curious. "I regret whatever may have happened to you, but I feel as though we have covered everything that needs to be said. We can readdress these rules in the future if need be." This was punctuated with a "Miss Jones" that positively dripped with haughty superiority.
Jessica flipped her notebook closed and floated down toward the floor. She nodded.
"Fair enough. Have a good one, Namor. Also, be careful if you decide to get down from your fucking high horse. We wouldn't want you getting hurt." She threw over her shoulder as she whipped around, her hair swinging behind her. She stalked toward her room, the door closing with an air of finality behind her.
The noble, now alone, raised an eyebrow in self-possessed bewilderment. As if proof that he has been spending too much time around Clint and Susan, he commented "Score a small victory for no holes being punched through walls" to the empty common area. It did not provide a clever quip in retort.
Something here was not right.
Namor paused in the doorway hesitantly. He was shirtless and still a little wet from the shower; towel casually draped across one shower, gym bag in one hand. He frowned a well-practiced frown that might accompany an tick of the eye in someone with less fine control over his disdain, but the Marques de McKenzie was well-practiced in irritation.
The room was off. It was still clean, but the the spartan, barely lived-in atmosphere he had honed and cultivated over the past six months had minor touches of things-moved and new additions. It was almost aspiring to feel lived-in.
The youth’s frown ebbed a little as he remembered an administrative email from the past week, and the pieces fell into place.
“Hello.” This was a broad, projected-statement that was less of a question and more of a statement of arrival.
Jessica heard the click of the door from her position floating above her bed. She had been hovering there for a good hour dozing in and out, but the sound of the door had sparked both her curiosity and the end of her lethargy. She lowered herself slowly and landed without a sound. She moved toward the door and opened it. Her dull brown eyes widened as she took on the man standing in the next room. He was shirtless and was carrying a bag of some kind. Based on the fact that the man was in the suite in such a state, Jessica figured that this must be his royal highness himself: Namor.
‘Alright Jess, time to wear your ovaries on the outside and say hi.’ She ran her hand through her luxurious locks and opened the door. It was introduction time.
His posture remained imperiously unshakable as Jessica emerged, but his eyes searched the woman appraisingly. “Miss Jones,” and a beat, “I apologize for my absence lately. I trust that you’ve settled in adequately?”
Jessica took in the man in front of her. He was attractive, that much was obvious, and he spoke in a way that Jessica supposed was the product of being raised as part of royalty. Still, his polite tones were appreciated, especially since she was always a bit apprehensive about meeting new people.
“It’s nice to meet you, ummm, is there some sort of title I should be using? I mean, I don’t really want to step on other people’s toes. As for me, I wouldn’t mind if you just used ‘Jessica.’ To be honest, I haven’t really noticed your absence. It’s been such a whirlwind, getting used to this place. Still, I guess I have to thank you for your apology anyways. I’ve been settling in fine. This place sure is, well, ritzy. Not like home at all. Still, I think I could come to think of it that way, in time.” She rattled off, offering her hand to Namor as she did so. ‘Way to go Jessica, he’s going to think you’re fucking loony. Well, Matt and Lorna didn’t seem to mind, so maybe he won’t either.’ She thought.
Namor barely blinked at her rambling, but gave Jessica a long look at her comment about “ritzy.” He set the gym bag on the ground and cupped his hands in rest behind his back. “Formally I am the Marqués de McKenzie, Heir Apparent to the Dukedom of Thakkar. ‘Your Grace’ will suffice.”
He shifted his weight as the silence punctuated any growing awkwardness. “I know that many here consider the mansion to be home, but I do not. As such, we should consider setting ground rules for the suite.”
Jessica cringed internally. Shed been around dead people less stiff than this guy.
“Riiiiggghhhttt…rules, okay. Why don’t you start? I have the tiniest inkling that whatever I’d say is going to be covered by you anyway.” Jessica replied as she drew out her notebook and flipped to a blank page. She swiftly scribbled a small note before gesturing for Namor to continue. ‘Note to self, thank Lorna for warning me beforehand.’
“My expectations are simple,” he continued untaunted by the jibe. It was natural Jessica should look to her betters for guidance, afterall. “You clean up your own messes, and I will clean up mine. My room is my space, and I will happily respect your boundaries in turn.”
“Fair enough. Don’t really see myself messing up my own space. And, strangely, I have no desire to root through your unmentionables. We should be good in the woods on those fronts. Anything else?” She asked as she floated up from the floor and into a lotus position. That feeling of awkwardness and discomfort from awhile ago? It had undergone a full metamorphosis into annoyance. What was with royals being such sour grapes anyways? ‘You’d think they’d be nice you know, to inspire loyalty or whatever.’ She thought. ‘Not that I’m not a stone cold bitch sometimes, but at least I’ve got passion. I could use this guy’s cool attitude as an air conditioner. Geezus.’ She thought.
The sarcasm failed to dent Namor’s superiority, or he merely decided to pay no heed to it. Either way, his reaction to Jessica’s acceptance was not underscored by scorn, but instead mild confusion. He squinted his eyes accusingly, and crossed his arms across his chest. “This seems too easy,” he replied flatly.
“Look, Namor, as much as I’d really like to, I’m not here to start a fight after being here for all of five minutes. You don’t touch my stuff, I don’t touch your stuff, seems like an easy enough thing to me. I’m sure that if we run into one another, it’ll be an awkward stare down for all of five seconds before we go our respective ways. I mean, you’re royalty, you should be used to getting what you want, right? That attitude of yours probably helps too. I mean, people probably agree just to get away from you. Don’t worry though, I’ve got quite the tolerance.” Jessica replied with a wink. Her recipe was simple: a pinch of explanation, a dash of reality, and a cup of honesty. Delicious. “Any questions?” She asked as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger casually.
He narrowed his eyes accusingly. “You use as many words as possible to arrive at a simple point. However,” and he swept an arm imperiously, “Your summary is correct if a bit crude. My previous roommate had the latter, but the former is marginally refreshing."
Jessica cringed at the Royal's observation. It was time to put another check into the "people who knew she was a motormouth" category.
"Good. Then we understand each other. Just because I'm apparently a masochist, I have to ask. You kinda seem like you don't want to be here. If so, then why ARE you here?" Jessica asked, her annoyance and anger at the situation dying down a bit. She readied her notepad and well used pencil as she prepared for his answer.
"I assure you that there will not be a test later. Regardless, I have a responsibility to be here."
"Hey, you can use sarcasm. Wow, look at you!" She joked, half teasing. "As for the pen and paper, that's just my investigative mind rearing it's head. If I write it down, I won't forget. Some...things happened and writing things down helps me keep my memory sharp." She added, voice a bit bitter. Her eyes and mouth were suddenly far too dry and she swiftly attempted to wet both of them. She wasn't going to let herself think of that. Not now. She was far more curious about the man in front of her. She stretched out, laying on the air and "supporting" herself with her elbows. "Responsibilities. Got it."She continued, punctuating her words with the scratch of her pencil.
Namor stared at her like she had grown a third head. "I would never demean myself in such a way." He shifted the bag still in his hands contemplatively, as if weighing the options of escape. He wasn't the type to get curious. "I regret whatever may have happened to you, but I feel as though we have covered everything that needs to be said. We can readdress these rules in the future if need be." This was punctuated with a "Miss Jones" that positively dripped with haughty superiority.
Jessica flipped her notebook closed and floated down toward the floor. She nodded.
"Fair enough. Have a good one, Namor. Also, be careful if you decide to get down from your fucking high horse. We wouldn't want you getting hurt." She threw over her shoulder as she whipped around, her hair swinging behind her. She stalked toward her room, the door closing with an air of finality behind her.
The noble, now alone, raised an eyebrow in self-possessed bewilderment. As if proof that he has been spending too much time around Clint and Susan, he commented "Score a small victory for no holes being punched through walls" to the empty common area. It did not provide a clever quip in retort.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}