#maybe purple is the exception cus i see him doing that thing where someone your age shows you a pixel of kindness and you're head over heels

[nyankoizumi]

how it feels to chew five stickmen.                           stimulate your senses

[panaramic-art]

So what does vigilante mike looks like cus i can't see him in the picture and what up with runaway mike amnesia mike and medusa mike

Okay.. first off, i just want to say I love your enthusiasm, and genuinely, I appreciate your interest. I mean that, it's great that you love out aus so much. BUT.. I need you to calm down a little.. you are 99%of my ask box, and that would be SO COOL if it wasn't repeating questions a lot of the time. Typically, if I don't answer something, it's because I don't have an answer or because I'm busy and can't think of anything at the moment. Or, I'm out of spoons and just don't feel like answering anything in that moment!

Now though, you have been making it increasingly difficult to have the energy to answer anything because you send so many and it just burns me out, and i just cant answer anything. Sending repeat asks like you have with this, especially when I JUST posted what you're asking about it makes me not want to answer anything, even when this is something I would usually be jumping to explain! And it's even worse when you go off and spam my friends with the exact same questions. Again, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but this isn't okay. You can ask us questions, but there's a limit, and you shouldn't sent repeats over and over again, especially when it hasn't even been a day, or even 2 hours.

The last thing I want to do is have to block you, because AGAIN I love that you love my stuff. But both me and shadow have found asks that we've missed because your asks were piled on top of them. All I ask is for you to calm down a little.

Now, onto your question.

Vigilante Mike is in the upper right corner under phone guy. He's the one with the black and bright purple outfit and the toothy mask. He's from my my hero academia au where he believes he's quirkiness until he dies, and comes back a little stronger. His quirk is basically he becomes more zombie like with each death, getting stronger and more powerful, but also more rotten. There's more to it I think, but I can't remember off the top of my head.

Runaway is basically Mike, but if his parents divorced when he was very young, maybe 3 or 4. Evan wasn't born yet but Clara was pregnant with him, and she left with liz, leaving Mike with William. Well, William being William starts doing Remnant experiments on him (haven't really fleshed out why). He gets ghost like powers without dying, but ends up going mute in the process due to trauma. When he's 10, he escapes, running away. He basically becomes a raccoon that loves in Jeremy's trash lol. Think 11 from stranger things vibes.

Amnesia Mike is in the upper left corner. She's just someone I've been roleplaying with my friend, she won't really be going anywhere except for the occasional drawings or inspired oneshots.

Medusa Mike is just as it sounds, what if Mike's mom was a gorgon like Medusa instead of human. Then he goes through changes in puberty making him more snake like.

I hope this quells your curiosity a bit.

[thehobbitse]

Fanfic: Obsessions (Jake Peralta X OFC)

You can read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951162/chapters/42394373

Author’s note: Hii, sorry for the short chapter, I wanna skip to the ~interesting~ parts soon ;3 Also, I know it's cliché, but I'll name the chapters after songs. This is Daylight-Coldplay, is about the realization that you love someone (in this case she likes the person because it's too soon to love etc).

Chapter 2- Daylight

As soon as I got home, I ran to the shower, the water would help to clear my thoughts. Since I was young I loved to take a shower, I turned on the radio and problems disappeared. It's a shame that when we grow up, problems grow too, and it takes more than running water to solve them. It also did not help that I put "Greatest Hits- Britney Spears" (because ‘My loneliness is killing meee’)

What would I do the next morning? Should I talk to him? Ignore it? Oh if I had a close friend to ask for advice. As soon as I fell on the bed, I fell asleep, too tired to continue torturing myself.

The next morning I got up earlier than usual, if I got there early I would not run the risk of having to walk past Jake's desk and say good morning. I decided to ignore him and try to act normal until things got really back to normal. I took my usual coffee and milk, put the most imperceptible neutral-colored clothes I could find and ran to the bus stop near my building. I came some minutes early and used this extra time to pick a playlist. I love these little things, listening to music on the bus (or in the bath, or cooking, or cleaning the house or in any possible situation) made me happy. I would always get into these overly thinking moments, my mind certainly flies easily.

I arrived early, even earlier than Amy. Actually most people came later, probably because of yesterday's party. Rosa arrived at the usual time and I could tell she was happy because this time she actually greeted me. I really admired her, her strong will, her style. I had what I like to call a “friendship crush” on her.

The more the minutes passed, the more I became anxious, my hands were sweaty, each time the elevator doors opened, my heart skipped a bit. I was so tense that I did not even realize that Rosa was calling me.

"Moretti, are you alright?"

I turned to her with a loose smile "Yes, why?"

"You're kneading those files" well, I have this mania of when I'm thinking too much and I’m anxious, I squeeze everything I have in my hands without noticing.

"Yeah, I ... ah ... I need to go to the bathroom" I got up as fast as I could to avoid further comments.

Arriving in the bathroom I washed my hands and my face to try to calm myself down. ‘Breath in, breath out’ I mentally repeated to myself. I was going to make a ponytail when I spoted a purple bruise on the righ side of my neck, almost on the back. ‘Shit it must have been hidden behind my hair’

‘Shit shit shit shit’ I didn’t have anything to cover that up, as I looked the hickey, my mind started to wander again, to think about last night and all the things I felt when I was in Jake’s apartment. The way we kissed and the manner he touched me, and oh God, how I wanted to go to the end and see what he would do, but I didn’t, there are so many things that could (and certainly would!) go wrong. But I had to admit: he knew how to Kiss. “I shouldn’t be thinking about that”

“About what?” I heard Gina’s lazy voice comming from behind one of the bathroom boxes. Oh crap, did I say it out loud? And why didn’t I check if the bathroom was empty?

I soon let my hair down to cover the hickey, with luck she didn’t see it “About what I’m gonna have for lunch, it’s too soon yet”

She came closer to me with a threatening look “You have a secret, and I know all the secrets around here” she changed her look in a second and washed her hands

“No, I don’t. Now excuse me”

I left the bathroom and went to the living room, I know Gina is quite ‘dangerous’ and I had to keep the secret really secret. I heard that drinking water helps to calm the anxiety, so I went to the living room, while pouring water into a mug I heard footsteps and voices, I was with my back facing the door

“Man, I told you that woman was inocent” phew, it was Terry

“I shoudn’t have bet 20 dollars, her taste for fast food deceived me” maybe I was lucky because that was Charles....until he completed “Jake, what do you think?”

In fact I was lucky to be facing the sink because as soon as I heard that Jake was there, I spit some water. I turned myself to face them. “Hi there” I said with a very forced smile

Fun fact: I never saw anyone so hungover like Jake: he had deep circles under his eyes, his hair was matted and his clothes rumpled as if he had overslept and came to work in a hurry and I never saw him before with a grumpy expression like the one he wore that day

“Careful there” said Boyle with a playful smile. I passed some water in my mug to carry it back to my desk.

“Good morning Sargent, Charles, Jake” I said while leaving the room, my stare low because I wasn’t able to look him in the eyes without feeling shame.

The rest of the day followed quiet, I watched the people from behind my computer, Amy was shinning with joy, showing off her big engagement ring, I heard Charles complaining about having trouble to find a girlfriend, Jake was incredibly silent, Gina was bragging about something she achieved on twitter. Sargent Jeffords showed us some pictures of her little girls (precisely 56 photos of them sleeping). I thought things were going back to normal really easily. That’s when my look met with Jake’s and we instantly lowered our eyes, my face burning with embarrassment. Was he looking at me purposely? Hm maybe it was my imagination.

I lifted my head as if nothing had happened, grabbed my cellphone to (pretend to) check the messages and raised my eyes once again, he wasn’t at his desk anymore.

Rosa got up from her chair and muttered a direct command “Follow me”, she led me into the copier room and closed the door “You need to talk to him”

“With whom?” I asked, it was impossibe for her to know-

“With Jake, it’s weird and you are colleagues, it may affect your work” shit shit shit, how does she know? “You took him home last night, you’re barely talking to each other and you have a hickey” she responded as if she read my mind and crossed her arms

I immediatly placed my hand on top of the hickey, widening my eyes “Nothing happened. I mean. Kinda. But I stopped it because he was so drunk and I didn’t want to be just a backup girl cus’ I know he likes Amy” I realized I shouldn’t have said the last part “Oops, that wasn’t supposed to come out”

“Don’t worry, everyone knows that except Amy. Talk to him” she told me sternly and headed to the doo

“...Rosa” I pleaded raising my eyebrows like a puppy face, she appeared to be touched by it -but because of what she said next. Rosa doesn’t show any emotion unless she wants to-

“Jake is a nice guy, he’ll understand. You don’t have to be afraid, Gina and Charles used to make out, and now they’re fine”

“What are you suggesting?” I asked, did she meant that me and Jake could.....? Well it didn’t matter because she just raised an eyebrown and gave me a smirk while lefting the room

I waited ‘till the end of our shift, I wanted to talk to Jake alone. As he waited for the elevator, I looked nervously to Rosa and she returned with a nod to where Jake was and gave me a look that meant ‘I will drag you to him if necessary’. There was no other way, and she was right, this situation could harm our work. So I grabbed my purse and headed to the elevator too.

The problem is that I wanted to be alone with him to spare more awkward situations and Scully was heading to the elevator too. I looked at Rosa again and she understood what was happening.

“Hey Scully” she called him and as soon as he turned himself, she was already near him and she punched his stomach “The next time you eat my stuff it will be worse than a punch”

I didn’t know she would do THAT, but it worked and as the doors were closing I heard Scully saying between coughs “But it was Hitchcock”

‘Well, now I’m here’ I thought, ‘How do I say it?”, I was so nervous and my hands were sweaty again, I thought so much about it that I didn’t realised the time I lost when the doors opened again. He just gave me a short ‘Bye’ and headed to the parking lot (the exit I take is different because I don’t have a car, you know). ‘Now or never, but maybe tomorrow’ I was about to leave when I remembered something: my first Kiss. Why? Well because I was so nervous, but I liked the boy and waited too long since I always wanted to make these things with people I really liked. I gave a second though and gained courage to do it. And I never regretted it

Talking to Jake was the right thing to do and maybe it wouldn’t be so hard ‘Jake is a nice guy’ Rosa’s voice played in my head. So I turned around and ran to the parking lot, I had this good fortune because he was almost getting into his car.

“Jake!” I yelled, now coming closer to where he was “Ca...can we talk? About yesterday”  He stopped beside his car, I felt like he was relieved somehow. ‘Now I’m here......................What do I say????’

“Aaahn I’m...sorry(?)” It came out sounding more as a question than a statement

“Hey, you don’t have to feel bad about anything, it’s your right to say no and-“ he started to say. Wait, did he think I didn’t want to make out with him even if I rubbed my hips and moaned and ohmygodthememories, he was so sweet to think that way, my heart melted. Jake was truly a nice guy.

“Jake it’s not that I didn’t want to....” I cocked my eyebrows as to indicate that I refered to the words I was too shy to say. He frowned and then relaxed his face, the processes of understanding what I was saying going through his visage. It was so cute. I continued “The reason I did not go ahead it’s because first: you were so drunk I didn’t feel it was right.... and second because...” I trailed off

“What?” he asked coming closer, interested in what I had to say

“Because I know you like Amy, and if I’m gonna do these things I wanna be sure the person is thinking about me in the moment” I burtled and as I registered what I just said, blood rushed to my cheeks.

He appeared torn for a moment, then he said “Look, that’s okay... let’s just forget it”

I gave him a semi smile and nodded with my head “See ya’ tomorrow”

That night Ihad trouble falling asleep, something was bothering me. A thought came to me and I slipped my hand under my pants waistband ‘We can’t do it but nobody said anything about thinking it’. And for Lord’s sake, that nigh I slept very well.

[iknownothingihearnothing]

Game of Thrones 8.4 “The Last of the Starks”

I. Am. MAD.

This...this week’s offering right here is an example of an episode I loved and loathed in equal measure. There were lovely moments of--

And then...then there were even more ones of--

Y’all know what I’m talking about. From Brienne’s heartbroken face to that motherfucking Northern stubbornness, to Missandei’s capture and death, to Jon still not knowing enough (he’s so naive), to Euron shooting poor Rhaegal out of the sky, to JON BEING A HORRIBLE WOLF-DADDY!

He just ABANDONED Ghost! Without even a pat goodbye! Even if he had to leave him, he could’ve at least spared a frigging goodbye. Yeah yeah budget blah blah. You couldn’t get an actual big, white, fluffy dog for the few seconds needed for Jon Snow to bid his wolfy buddy who RISKED HIS LIFE for him a proper farewell?! 

I pet my dog and call him a good boy when he gets the ball and goes poop outside. You couldn’t spare more than a “laters, brah” nod to your poor puppy?!

LOOK HOW SAD HE IS!

I want to hug him and kiss him and snuggle him and tell him he’s the goodest boi in the North. Pawning him off to Tormund to live Beyond the Not Wall where he knows no one, what’s the matter with you, Jogon of House Snowaryen?! 

Dany may be leaning a biiiiiit too far into her House Targaryen roots but at least she is a dedicated pet owner. We know she loves her...scale...babies? They have spines, right? Spine babies? Fire babies. 

Ugh, let’s get into this week’s slice of sadness. 

The episode opens with a massive funeral for those that died in the Battle of Winterfell. Including Jorah, Lyanna, Theon, Mr. Edd, and Beric, who is now definitely out of lives.

Dany, crying, leans over Jorah’s prone body, kisses his forehead, and whispers something we’ll never know into his ear.

At least, we’ll never know unless either Emilia or Iain decide to spill the deets. Iain Glen said in a post-ep interview with Entertainment Weekly that it was “something definitely profound”. But who knows, he could be bullshitting us and she actually said “I like muffins” or something and he had to lay there pretending to be dead.

On second thought, she’s English. So perhaps she prefers crumpets. 

Sansa is sniffling over Theon’s body and places a House Stark pin in his shirt. Jon is looking out at this sea of corpses like--

There is no more Ol’ Nighty to bring them back.

Or so we’re led to believe. 

The camera pans across the mourners and we catch a glimpse of our favorite furry friend.

He’s such a good, loyal doggo. Wolfo? Direwolfo. 

Oh Jon I am so MAD AT YOU!

Saving my rage for a bit further down. Barely.

Jon gives a farewell speech about all their dead--they defended the realms of men, no one will ever see their like again, etc. etc.--and then some of the mourners who knew the dead best are given flaming branches in order to set the bodies alight. In the North, they burn their dead. I guess cus the ground is forever frozen and one day someone from House Whyrevr said fuck it and lit his dead grandma on fire. 

Afterwards, they have a joint funeral/”glad we’re alive” party because of course they do. Kinda reminiscent of our shiva except people are sitting on chairs. At the head table, Jon is looking awkwardly at Dany--apparently, that whole “we’re technically related and oh you have a better claim to the throne than me” stuff has lingered beyond fighting for their lives. Damn. Not even surviving Team Undead’s invasion could get them out of that business. 

Elsewhere, Gendry asks the Hound if he’s seen Arya. Does Robert’s bastard have a wee more on his mind than all the death? Like, say, his wee-wee?

Some things never change, no matter what century it is.

Gendry tries to stutter that it’s not about that but the Hound knows it is. Gendry’s alive and the dead are not. Might as well take ASS-vantage of it.

Eh? Eh?

Srsly, this is like the worst party in the history of Westeros. Uh, aside from the Red Wedding (but not the Purple one, #ByeJoflecia). They just buried burnt a heap of their dead, two of their hosts are keeping a huge secret from everyone (and being super weird around each other because of it), and Dany’s endlessly fighting against that frigging Northern hardheadedness. It’s not GREAT, Bob.

Speaking of that famous Northern jackassery, Dany sees an opportunity to crack that stubborn ice as Gendry crosses the party hall. Calling him over, she at first inquires about his parentage, asks him if he knows that Robert Baratheon kinda had her whole family killed and wanted to slaughter her as an infant. Gendry’s like “Whoa, did not know that he was my daddy until after he was dead” and Dany’s all “Yep he dead and so are Renly and Stannis so who’s Lord of Storm’s End?” and no one knows.

This is Dany’s chance to make good.

Not only did Gendry survive the battle, he got laid and made a lord!

You go, Glenn Coco, Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End!

Ser Davos, the onion knight (lol) leads the room in a toast to Gendry, the newest Lord on the block.

Don’t be fooled cus he’s now a Lord, he’s still he’s still Gendry from the Forge.

Tyrion remarks that now Gendry will forever be loyal to her and Dany says that he is not the only one that is clever.

Sansa, hearing this, looks at her like bats just sprouted from her head and flew out her ears while her eyes turned red as she chuckled evilly. 

Oh, come on! This is what people in powerful positions on the show do. That’s how they secure allies without, you know, marrying their allies. You want someone’s loyalty, do something for them. Dany’s not the first one to try that. And it’s not like she had Drogon Dracarys the hell out of one of Gendry’s enemies to secure that loyalty. She made him a damn Lord. 

The Starks are annoying me this season. Except when Arya laid the smacketh down on Ol’ Nighty. 

In another corner, Jaime and Brienne are celebrating by gettin’ crunk. She offers a halfassed excuse but Jaime’s all “Dude, we defeated a horde of zombies. Drink up!” and she does, giving him this look:

Bow chicka wowowwwwwwwwwwwwww chicka chicka boom.

Not that I can blame her. Aside from all that incestin’, Jaime’s a fine slice of Kingslayer pie.

Ser Davos of House Onion and Tyrion are talking about Melisandre, who last episode took off her necklace and aged into evaporation. Davos tells Tyrion that he swore to Melisandre he would kill her next time he saw her but he never got the chance, as she did it to herself. Or the Lord of Light took her. Or whatever. They don’t like him much. They fight his war and then he fucks off. 

Tyrion crosses the room to BranBot, who is reading in his wheelchair, which Tyrion calls a clever invention. I keep forgetting that wheelchairs aren’t really a thing in Westeros. 

BranBot, as animated as he’s programmed to be, delights in telling Tyrion that it is reminiscent of the one Daeron Targaryen made for his nephew over a hundred years ago. Just your regular episodic reminder that BranBot is...BranBot. 

Tyrion says BranBot’s BranVision will come in handy as the Lord of Winterfell, which he technically is as Ned Stark’s last surviving “trueborn” son. But BranBot doesn’t want it. BranBot doesn’t really want anything or anyone. He totally just doesn’t care, man.

Tyrion envies BranBot’s ability to not give a shit and and BranBot tells him not to because--

Yes, yes. You’re an “old soul”, BranBot. BranBot calls himself a grandpa in a teenager’s body. He forgets what generation he is and refers to people his own age as “you youngins”. He constantly crows that he is a “proud introvert” who’d rather be reading. We KNOW, BranBot!

Tormund leads a toast (with his awesome tusk cup) to the Dragon Queen and everyone cheers so maybe Dany’s making headway. She herself turns her own toast to Arya, the hero of the Battle of Winterfell. 

Jaime, Brienne, Tyrion, and Pod are playing a Westerosi version of Never Have I Ever with wine and Tormund, a bit drunk off his red ass, is going on and on about how awesome Jon is. Meanwhile, Dany is listening and though she toasts him she knows that she will always be an outsider to these people and they fucking love Jon.

Also, this happened:

“May I have your name?”

“Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons.”

“Okay, that’s Daniellris Shoehorn, the Sunburnt, Keen of Mean Girls, Bean of the Sandals and the Thirsty Hen, Call Sweetie of the Eight Assed Bee, Brother of Wagons. Is that correct?”

“Ugh. Just write Dany.”

“Okay, Fannie.”

The PTB at HBO have since digitally removed The Cup from the episode but wah bro I think they should have kept it in. That’s hilarious. I want to live in a world where Starbucks exists on Game of Thrones. And it survived the battle. Of course House Styrbycks is right around the corner from Winterfell, conveniently situated at the heart of the town square. 

And you better believe there’s a ride-thru for the horseman on the go.

I enjoy how HBO came out with a statement that Dany ordered herbal tea. I can see Dany ordering herbal tea.

In warmer climes, though, she’s definitely a dragon fruit smoothie girl.

Aside: Liam Cunningham recently went on Conan and gifted him The Cup:

He swore it was the actual cup. How is that even possible?! Wouldn’t someone have tossed it after all this time? And the fact that it was still around had to signal to someone on set that a) trolol a person in Consistency fucked up and at least one dude on GoT knew it before the ep aired and b) that Emilia’s discarded latte appearing in a scene would be gold. 

I want to believe it’s legit. I want to believe so hard that it’s the real Cup and that all these circumstances came together to land the Cup in Liam’s hand all this time later. I want to, and so I shall.

(Yes, I know it is not the real Cup but shh I want to BELIEVE!)

So, Dany is watching everyone have fun and be close with each other, especially how everyone seems to love Jon here, and she’s feeling even more like an outsider (and not a bit insecure about her claim to the throne) and she gets up and leaves. Varys starts to follow her with his watchful Varys eyes.

Jaime, Brienne, Podrick, and Tyrion are still playing their game and getting increasingly drunker doing so. Drunker and more giggly. Everything’s all well and good until Tyrion suddenly sits up, looks Brienne in the eye, and accuses her of being a--dun dun dun--virgin. Pod nonchalantly sips his wine.

Brienne clambers out of her seat and mutters that she has to piss. Tormund, also drunk as a skunk, stumbles to their table, celebrating, and asks--

Well? Who did shit in Tormund’s pants?!

It’s kinda awks because Tormund is into Brienne but Brienne has feelings for Jaime and when did GoT become a teen soap opera? It’s like The North 00000 up in here.

Tyrion pours more wine into Tormund’s tusk as Jaime follows Brienne out.

Dramz. Will they? Won’t they? Stay tuned next week!

No, they totally will right now. 

But first, Tormund is going to bitch.

I was cheering for Tormund to win his Big Woman, I really was. But then Jaime showed up and their chemistry just...reignited. 

Tormund expresses sadness until a Northern lady volunteers to take up his time. The Hound continues to drown his sorrows--tho idk what he’s sad about, he’s alive--ignoring even the prospect of sexytimes until Sansa, finally able to make eye contact with the Hound, shares his table. It was a long time ago when she couldn’t even look at him, back when she was just a little bird. But now she’s a dark phoenix (see what I did there? Because Sophie Turner is starring in Dark Phoenix!) risen from the ashes, having had her revenge against her latest torturer/husband, Ramsay Bolton via his own hounds.

None of if would’ve happened if Sansa had left K.L. with the Hound way back when. But Sansa gently squeezes his hand and says that without Ramsay, Littlefinger, and all those assholes, she’d still be that same naive little bird.

Anyone else get the vibe that David and D.B. are kinda...trying to justify what Ramsay did to Sansa here? Just an itty bit? All that’s missing is Sansa belting out Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter”. 

Outside, Arya is practicing her archery skillz when Gendry, the new Lord of Storm’s End, is imbued with way too much enthusiasm after being dubbed by Dany and legit blurts out a proposal to his one night stand right then and there.

Ugh. I can’t wait until my shitty copy of Phhotoshop arrives. Until then I have to use paint shop. Look at those corners! They are making me itch.

Anyway, Arya obvs rejects Gendry’s proposal and it’s d’awww. Gendry is like that guy you hook up with once because he’s hot and afterwards, he won’t stop calling you and texting you and trying to add you as a Facebook friend and messaging you on Twitter suggesting that you fly to Michigan to meet his parents for Thanksgiving. This is something I know nothing about.

Ah, now we’ve circled back to the Jaime and Brienne Show!

That’s if he’s not still obsessed with his siiiiiiiiissssterrrr (she’s a psycho!)

Brienne’s throwing more wood onto yet another hearth (there are a lot of hearths in Winterfell) when Jaime knocks on her door and unceremoniously proclaims that she did not drink when Tyrion accused her of being a V to the gin. He pours her some Dornish red and mutters about it being hot in here; Brienne has learned in the North to always keep a fire going. Jaime has learned in the North that he hates the fucking North. Brienne counters that it grew on her.

Jaime wonders if Tormund Giantsbane also grew on her. He seemed quite sad when she left.

He wants the V-card and the V.

Jaime chuckles awkwardly and begins to pull at the collar of his shirt because “it’s bloody hot in here”. Brienne watches him warily for a second until she gets annoyed and unties the garment herself.

You see where this is going.

First time for Jaime, too. He’s never slept with a knight before.

Has he ever slept with anyone who isn’t his sister before?

Shows how much he cares about Brienne. Letting someone in who isn’t Cersei. That’s a good, non-incestuous step forward, Jaime.

It’s a big moment for Brienne, too, aside from the obvious. She’s had a thing for Jaime for years. This is like that guy you’ve been secretly pining for suddenly realizing he’s totally into it.

In the next scene, Dany confronts a “slightly drunk” Jon, who did not know Ser Jorah very well, but he is pretty sure that if he would’ve chosen a way to die, it would have been protecting Dany. Dany knows Jorah loved her, but she couldn’t love him back--not the way he deserved, not the way she loves Jon.

They kiss and it’s like before Jon ever found out he’s also Aegon until--

“Does Westeros have any support groups for this? Maybe I should ask Ser Jaime.”

Jon wishes that Dany had never told them that they were related and I’m sitting here like--

He would’ve figured it out sooner or later, right? I mean, if he knew he was half Targaryen and all and Rhaegar was his daddy. I understand math is hard but...

Dany tries to forget and sometimes almost succeeds until tonight when she saw all those people gathered around him, looking at him like I’m The Hero! People have looked at her like that before, lots of people, but not here, not on this side of the Narrow Sea. She begs him not to tell anyone of his Targaryen lineage, to swear Samwell and BranBot to secrecy, so that things could go back to how they were before between them. 

But Jon must tell Sansa and Arya because family and nobility and Starkism and all that. And we all know Sansa no likey Dany, despite the fact that HER ARMIES SAVED YOUR NORTHERN ASS.

She begs him some more and he promises that she is his Queen and they can all live together. And they can, if Jon keeps his trap shut.

In Brienne’s quarters, if the animal pelts are a rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’!

Warm enough in there now, Brienne? 

In the War Room--damn, don’t we all aspire to have a War Room?--our favorites are gathered around the Great Table or whatever with a map of Westeros in the center and some old timey Checkers pieces standing in for the two sides’ respective armies. Obvs, the Battle of Winterfell has depleted Dany and Jon’s forces greatly, but they still have enough to wage hell on Cersei. Yara has taken back the Iron Islands in her name, and the Prince of Dorne pledges his support. Still, Cersei has the Golden Company led by Guyliner Greyjoy and the Lannister Army fresh and ready to fight. 

Dany is not appeased. No matter how many noble people declare their fealty to her, while Cersei still sits on the Iron Throne, she can still call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon, Tyrion, and Varys reassure her with talk of dragons and the people of K.L. having rebelled against their King before. Sansa adds that she wants to give the armies time to recuperate, which is also--

--since they just fought Team Undead and all. But Dany wants to hit up K.L. NOW NOW NOW because the longer they wait, the stronger her enemies become. Or something.

Someone’s starting to lean a wee too far into her Targ roots. It’s just common sense, Dany. Take a chill pill.

But Jon sticks up for his GF. Very sternly, he swears the North will honor its commitments and allegiance to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and blah blah blah. 

Dany appears smug.

Silently, Arya and Sansa trade glances like--

Tyrion narrates that Jon will lead the remaining forces up the Kingsroad while a smaller group of them will take a fleet to Dragonstone while the Queen will follow on...dragonback.

Jaime will remain at Winterfell as a guest. 

The camera ticks to Brienne’s expression at the mention of her former crush and new lovah’s name:

She’s trying to outwardly remain passive, but inside--

She’s getting laid and she’s not dead. Those are good times in Westeros.

Dany completes the conference and Arya demands a word with Jon. Outside, Jon is like “We’d all be DEAD if not for her” which is again DUH and Sansa snides “Arya’s the one that killed the Night King”. Arya wouldn’t have had the chance to kill the Night King without Dany’s armies because they’d all be DEAD. Seven Hells, you people are ridiculous. “We don’t trust her, ShE’s nOt OnE oF Us.” That is an absurd reason not to trust someone. I’m from New Jersey. It’d be like me about to be murdered and refusing help from someone because they’re from Florida. Don’t trust her because of her personality not because of where she is from.

And then, like a naive idiot, Jon actually thinks because he swore them to secrecy, Sansa and Arya will for sure totally keep his true lineage behind zipped lips.

This here was one of the scenes that made me roll my eyes so hard, they almost got stuck.

From that, thankfully, GoT moves on to one of my favorite scenes of the episode. Jaime and Tyrion sitting there over drinks gossiping like yentas. Jaime’s giving his younger brother all the deets vis-a-vis his liaison with Brienne. When Tyrion doesn’t say anything snide, Jaime is visibly uncomfortable, and Tyrion claims he’s happy Jaime is happy. 

And--

Tyrion has been waiting for ages to make tall person jokes.

He also wants to know what she’s like “down there”. Jaime calls him a dog.

But then Bronn shows up, finally after Creepy Qyburn hired him to kill Cersei’s “traitorous brothers”, a bit drunk off his ass, brandishing that crossbow. After he smacks Tyrion in the nose, he tells them that Cersei offered him Riverrun, but he knows the Queen is fucked after seeing Dany’s dragons, even with their depleted forces. And Cersei can’t pay up if she’s dead, so...

So Tyrion counters the offer. Highgarden for Riverrun. Bronn would be made Lord of the Reach. It’s certainly open now that House Tyrell has been decimated (RIP Olenna, you ultimate badass). Jaime blanches. How could Tyrion just give him Highgarden? Well hell, it’s better than being dead. 

Jaime doesn’t think Bronn will seriously kill them. Jaime is wrong.

Jaime scoffs Highgarden will never belong to a cuttrhoat but Bronn laughs pish-posh. Isn’t that how all the great Houses started? Kill a few hundred, they make you a Lord. Kill a few thousand, they make you a King?

Tyrion gives Bronn-y his word he’l give him Highgarden as long as they take King’s Landing. Bronn opts out of leading the fight, but wishes the brothers luck with a casual “Don’t die”.

The Hound yells “FFS!” when he meets up with Arya on the Kingsroad. Yep, they’re both goin’ Kings Landing way. Nope, Arya doesn’t really care to hang around, even if she is the hero after knifing that horned fucker. Yes, she probably will abandon the Hound again if he gets hurt.

They both have “unfinished business”. Arya to scratch Cersei off her infamous Kill List. The Hound, presumably, to finally fulfill our fantasy of Clegane Bowl!

Elsewhere, Dany is getting ready to leave the fucking frozen North, petting her dragons. And on this show, that is not a euphemism. One of them, presumably Rhaegal, takes flight.

While Drogon remains with her, that mama’s boy.

On the bridge, Sansa is watching Drogon and Rhaegal lift off, trying to shoot them down with her eyes.

Before he leaves, Tyrion tries to convince her one more time that Daenerys is it, or at least a way better option than Cersei, and he believes in her, her people love her, Jon loves her, etc, and he’d totes appreciate it if they were at least allies, and he turns to leave as the camera pans close on Sansa’s face; she calls him back to spilleth the beans..eth.

Did I win?

As Jon is loading up his Horshon Wagon, Tormund jokes that he’s not riding the dragon down south. Jon laughs that Rhaegal needs a break; he doesn’t need Jon weighing him down.

Tormund says that he has had enough of “the south” and plans to take the Free Folk back Beyond the Not Wall through Castle Black. It’s not home, not where they belong. Or, suddenly, where Ghost belongs either after EIGHT YEARS.

Yeah, this is where I RAGE.

Jon insists the North is no place for a direwolf and asks Tormund to take Ghost with him back Beyond the Not Wall, where he knows no one, will be lonely, and have to contend with even colder weather than what he’s used to. Tormund tells Jon that he has the “real” North running through his veins and “maybe” they’ll meet again before he departs and Jon goes to HUG EVERYONE. 

ALMOST.

RAGE! RAGE AGAINST THE JONCHINE!

I know, I know working with the CGI wolves is ExPeNsIvE, blah blah. I DON’T CARE. There are dragons that spit actual fire on this show. Y’all couldn’t substitute a real big, white, fluffy doggie so Jon could bid his furry friend a real goodbye?! This was the saddest scene in GoT history. Forget Ned’s beheading or even the Red Wedding. This right here is inhuman.

The episode’s director, David Nutter, tried to defend himself, weakly, by insisting he thought this way was more powerful. He obviously does not own dogs. Or any pets of any kind. He did not anticipate how much we all love our furry friends. As soon as the episode aired, Twitter lit up with #GhostDeservedBetter. Poor Ghostie. He lost an ear for you! You’re leaving forever. I snuggle my dogs when I just leave to go to the bathroom. I shall honor Ghost here, First of His Name, Protector of the Realms of Men, the One Eared and the White Furred, Warden of the North. Or at least Warden of the Woof. 

I had to watch this portion a few times to get the right screenshots so now I must go snuggle my own doggies. And tell them they are my own little direwoofies and I will never ever leave them. Especially for King’s Landing.

Jon “I’m the worst Wolf Daddy in Westeros” Snow rides off and Sam, Gilly, Tormund, and Ghost watch him go, even after his owner slighted him, because he is the goodest boi on the continent.

On the way to Dragonstone, Tyrion has immediately spilled to Varys because let’s be honest: Jon’s true parentage was always going to stay a secret for about, meh, an hour? And now eight people know--Jon, Dany, Sansa, Arya, Tyrion, Varys, Sam, and BranBot. Which makes it less a secret and more info. If the internetz had existed back then, the whole of Twitter would’ve known within fifteen minutes. #JongonSnowgaryen would trend worldwide. Westeroswide? 

I need to start following The_Mastr. 

People like Jon. They follow Jon (even tho he’s a terrible pet owner). If this were to get out, Dany would lose the North--Winterfell and the Vale. Sansa would see to that. 

Tyrion suggests marrying them and they could rule together. They love each other, but Varys ain’t so sure Jon could ever see beyond that whole “she’s his aunt” thing. And Dany doesn’t like to have her authority questioned. Then Tyrion cheerfully suggests that Cersei could end up killing them all anyway and that would solve their problems.

And then Guyliner Greyjoy comes out of nowhere and motherfucking shoots down Rhaegal!

I literally gasped “NOOOOOOOOO!” out loud when this happened. My animal-loving heart can only take so much, Game of Thrones. There’s a fan theory that technically we didn’t see Rhaegal die and two somethings appeared in the sky in the trailer for the next episode so he could come back with a vengeance. Please come back with a vengeance, Rhaegal. 

Dany is furious that Captain Maybelline shot her baby and orders Drogon to make a beeline for him. But afraid for her other baby’s life, she turns at the last minute. Euron, annoyed that he only took down one dragon, instead aims for the boat carrying Team Daenerys, which explodes under the force of multiple scorpion arrows. 

All of them swim to shore--all of them, except one. Just before the arrows flew, Grey Worm ordered Missandei to seek refuge on the skiff, and, when we shift to the castle gates, we see Cersei presiding over thousands of innocents who will be caught in the crossfire of war between her and Dany, her child (which she tells Captain Maybellne is his), and a captured Missandei.

In the War Room at Dragonstone--every Great House has a War Room, it seems--our merry band is presiding over a map of King’s Landing where Varys looks Dany in the eye and begs her not to attack the castle. They have Missandei, they killed Rhaegal, yes, but thousands of innocents are held inside the Red Keep, which is Cersei’s modus operandi. Varys pleads with her not to destroy the city she came to save but Dany believes she has a destiny to rid the world of tyrants, and she will fulfill it, no matter the cost.

That sounds vaguely culty, Dany. It wasn’t that long ago you were doing all you could to avoid a battle inside King’s Landing, cus you didn’t wanna destroy the city and the people you were gonna rule over. What happened? Don’t go all Aerys on us.

Tyrion suggests offering Cersei her life in exchange for the throne to avoid carnage. Dany knows Cersei will never go for it, but it’s good for PR, anyway. The people will know that Daenerys Stormborn tried to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused.

Take it back a few, Dany. Just a few, mkay?

At the hearth--there is always a hearth chat going on, and Dragonstone is no exception--Tyrion and Varys are having A Talk. Varys has served many tyrants, and they all talk about destiny and stuff. But, Tyrion negates, Dany has walked through fire and made dragons and lived, maybe she really is destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms. 

Varys considers How To Solve A Problem Like Jon Snow. Who may not be a problem so much as a solution. Who would make a better ruler, Jon or Dany? Varys knows Jon doesn’t wanna rule, which is partly why he bent the knee, but maybe a good ruler would be someone who doesn’t want to rule at all.

And Jon’s a dude, which, in ye olden times, was important. Also why he’s got a tighter claim to the throne than Dany does. They’re talking treason right now. Tyrion accuses Varys of abandoning all of the kings he served under. Varys reaffirms that he will always serve what’s best for the realm and the people, thousands of whom will die if the wrong person sits on the throne. 

Tyrion asks what happens to Dany and Varys gives him a look like “What do you think?” 

At Winterfell, the Northerners are rebuilding while Sansa and Brienne are being all secret-like, talking in whispers and glancing at Jaime. He follows them, having the creeping sensation that they’re talking about something that pertains to him. When he asks what’s up, Brienne tells him that they just got word of Guyliner Greyjoy’s ambush on Dany’s ships, Rhaegal’s death, and Missandei’s capture. 

And another for Jaime Reacting to Bad News screenshots:

BUT what exactly is he reacting to? That Cersei is going to die or that he isn’t going to do it himself?

That night, Jaime is watching Brienne sleep, then creeps outside to pack up his mighty steed to head back to the capital. Too bad Brienne wakes up and catches him. The city is going to be destroyed, they all know this. And Jaime doesn’t have to die alongside Cersei.

Jaime doesn’t think he’s a good man. He pushed a boy out of a window and crippled him for life (which led to him becoming BranBot) for Cersei. He strangled his cousin to get back to Cersei. He would’ve killed every man, woman, and child in Riverrun to get back to Cersei. She’s a monster. And so is Jaime.

And then he leaves and Brienne is heartsick and her POOR FACE. 

THIS EPISODE IS KILLING ME.

But--and I know a lot of other people think this, too--after I wrung my hands a bit, I thought about this moment. I think Jaime’s going back to K.L. to off Cersei himself, leaving Brienne to believe he left because he thinks he doesn’t deserve her. It still SUCKS but it’s less sucky than thinking he’d rather have his twin sister’s V. 

In said capital, the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki forces, along with Dany and her merry men, are lined up outside the gates. Cersei, Pirate von D, and Cersei’s ever lurking zombie Mountain are on the battlements with a chained Missandei. The camera sweeps to show both sides and when did King’s Landing get so FLAT?

Isn’t King’s Landing supposed to be all lush and hilly? What has Cersei done to the place?! This is Dubrovnik, ffs!

Creepy Qyburn comes out of the gates and Tyrion goes to meet him, Hand to Hand. Queen Daenerys demands Cersei’s unconditional surrender and the return of Missandei, unharmed. Queen Cersei demands Daenerys’ unconditional surrender. It’s a stalemate and they’re not getting anywhere so Tyrion tries to appeal to Creepy Qyburn’s logic. They have a chance to prevent bloodshed. To not cause the screams of thousands of children as hellfire is rained down upon them. It’s not a pleasant sound, Qyburn agrees. Alas, he still goes on about Cersei being the one true Queen so Tyrion pushes past him to speak to his sister himself.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are all--

Dany also thinks this is not a good idea.

Some of the Lannister army up on the battlements with Cersei and Co get their bows and arrows ready but as Tyrion approaches, Cersei waves them off with a smug smile. Calling up to her, Tyrion says he knows Cersei doesn’t care about the people of the Seven Kingdoms; they hate her and the feeling’s mutual. 

He mentions her children, her unborn child. How she loved them more than life itself. And just because her reign is over doesn’t mean her life has to end, her her child has to die. 

Just for a moment, one moment, it appears as if his words are getting to her. Cersei takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. Lena’s acting in this instance is superb. And then, she crosses to Missandei as Dany and Grey Worm race toward the gate in alarm, and murmurs “If you have any last words, now is the time”.

Missandei’s last word?

With her last word, Missandei is telling Dany to fuck it all and burn King’s Landing to the ground.

Cersei gives zombie Mountain the nod to take off Missandei’s head, and poor Grey Worm can’t watch as the undead monster kills his girlfriend.

Dany shakes, turns, and walks away as Cersei smiles triumphantly.

The Mother of Dragons is so done fucking around, y’all.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh this episode was a ride. I wanted to wring SO many necks. Jon Snow, how does it feel to be the villain of the internet? Jaime, you best be headin’ back to K.L. to kill Cersei. Don’t you be breaking Brienne’s heart for nothing. Burn it all down, Dany! #Cleganebowl!

I am EXCITE for the penultimate ep. So EXCITE!

[breathingfiredragons]

Stick Around, Kid

“It ain’t like that, Jack!” Bruiser said, more forcefully this time. “Don’t shout about things you don’t understand. It ain’t just ’bout some kid who beat you up. Brooklyn’s one of the most powerful cities in the world. We need to be on Colon’s good side. If he wants the kid, he can have the kid. We ain’t gonna stand in his way.” “Colon’s got no claim to the kid! The kid ain’t a newsie, and he ain’t from Brooklyn,” spat Jack. “Colon don’t even need to know he exists!” ~~ Where Jack brings a sick beggar boy back with him, and is unprepared to deal with the consequences that has. Prequel to 'In Sickness and in Doubt'. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/11965272 ) (to clarify, as his name is never mentioned, the 'kid' is Crutchie, and this is before he got his limp).

“Christmas mobs cause massive fight in department store! Vicious fightin’!” shouted Jack, waving his paper high in the air. “You heard it here, folks!” an elderly woman bought from him, dropping an extra coin in his hand and murmuring something about the holidays.

People were always more generous during this time of year. Something about the guilt and temporary bout of religion made them give more. Not that he minded - it was nice to have a treat now and then. Besides just getting a treat, now that he was older he’d have to contribute to the Christmas dinner that Bruiser and the rest of the guys put together for the little kids. A few extra coins here and there piling up for a month, and sometimes they could even afford a goosegoose.

Of course, people’s occasional kindness was balanced out by the horrible weather. It was cold and dreary, wet and miserable. Jack could barely feel his fingers, even in the oversized jacket that he’d dug out of some rich person’s trash. It had stopped snowing for a bit, but the roads were still covered a few feet deep. He could barely walk without dragging his feet and taking comically large footsteps.

By sheer luck, he managed to sell all of his papers before dark. God was real after all. Less lucky was the fact that he’d nearly managed to wander into Brooklyn while selling. He technically was still in Manhattan, but only for a few more blocks. Any further and Bruiser would somehow find out and have Jack’s head (Bruiser was real big on territories and who could sell where, for reasons that Jack didn’t quite understand yet).

Unsure of how he’d even ended up as far as almost-Brooklyn, Jack grudgingly made his way towards the bunks. He needed to stop wandering and find a specific spot to sell. Or at least that’s what Bruiser kept saying. Bruiser was really fond of giving Jack advice that Jack was less fond of following. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to follow it so much as he just forgot. Often.

It had started to snow again, and Jack swore. With his luck, there would be a blizzard and he’d be trapped outside again. Bruiser had told him not to go so far away, so he wouldn’t look for very long. It would be entirely Jack’s fault.

Not that he’d get lost. He was fully capable of ignoring a little snow.

“Penny for change?” a small voice croaked out from what had seemed to be a large pile of snow at the corner of an alleyway. “Can anyone spare a penny?”

As he turned around the corner, he found the source of the voice. A small boy, all skin and bones jutting out at odd angles, with blond hair and a dirt covered face. He was shaking, and a large purple bruise covered his left eye. “How old are you, kid?” Jack asked.

The kid looked relieved that Jack was actually talking to him. “Thirteen.”

Oh. So not as young as Jack thought. Only a year younger than him, if he was telling the truth. The kid could pass as ten if they put him in bigger clothes, maybe he could take him back…

Before Jack could say another word, he felt his feet be ripped out from under him as he fell backwards into the snow. “Wha-” a sharp pain bloomed in his jaw, while something else dug into his chest. Before he could so much as raise his hands in defense, he’d been robbed of his hat and the coins in his pocket, and the kid was running down the street.

“Come back here!” launching to his feet, he darted after the boy.

The kid wasn’t very fast, but he clearly knew the area well. He’d dart down an alley and appear twenty feet further.

He took a turn down the block, and then they were in Brooklyn. Jack stuttered to a stop for a moment, before shaking his head and continuing. He’d get his earnings back, boundaries be damned.

The kid dove into another alley, and this time he didn’t emerge.

Swearing, Jack kicked the wall before heading back home.

“You got robbed?” Bruiser repeated. “Who did it?” Jack mumbled a response and Bruiser grabbed his chin, twisting it so he could better look at the already bruised skin. “Can’t understand you, kid, speak up. Who hit ya?”

“Some beggar kid,” spat Jack. “I woulda caught him, but he went into Brooklyn. Knew the land well enough to lose me.”

Bruiser paced back and forth for a while, taking his hat off and twisting it between his hands. “Was he a newsie?”

“I don’ think so. Looked like he was near dead, freezin’ to death on the streets,” said Jack.

“You lost to a near dead beggar on the streets?”

Jack flushed with embarrassment, and dug his shoe into the ground. “He was a damn good fighter. Had me pinned down and robbed before I could even blink.”

Bruiser was silent for a while, leaning up against the wall. “Listen, kid, here’s what you’re going to do. You hearin’ me? Gotta listen carefully. Don’ tell anyone about this. I’ll lend you money for tonight’s rent, but ’side from that you gotta tell everyone you sold today. Got it?”

Jack nodded silently, holding back the burning question on his tongue: why?

“I ain’t gonna find you a new hat. Ask ’round, see if anyone has extra. Maybe Kloppmann does. That’s your problem,” again, Bruiser paused. Jack wondered if maybe he was done, maybe he’d get off without a scolding, when Bruiser spoke again. “The Brooklyn kid who robbed you...if you see him again, let him be. Don’ go lookin’ for a fight. But if he tries to steal from you again…don’t let him take anything. I don’t wanna hear about you losin’ to anymore street rats, you understand?”

Jack nodded silently. Tell people he sold. Get his own hat. Leave the Brooklyn kid alone. Don’t lose any more fights. Easy enough.

Except.

“You don’t want me fightin’ the Brooklyn kid ’cus of Colon, right? But we don’t know he’s a newsie. So what does it matter?”

Sighing, Bruiser ran his hands through his hair. “Just in case. Colon ain’t taken to kindly to other people who rough up his own. If the kid’s one of Colon’s, we don’ want anything that happens to him on our hands. Get it?”

Mind whirring, Jack nodded. “I got it.”

The next day when he went out to sell, Jack tried to backtrack to where he’d sold the day before. It was even colder now, and barely anyone was on the streets. The people on the streets weren’t likely to stop and buy the paper. At least he had a purpose, something to keep his mind off of the fact that he couldn’t feel his toes or his fingers, and that the new kid, Race, had lent him an extra hat that was a few sizes too small.

“Pape! Government scandal shakes the nation! Read it here, folks!” the actual story was about some secretary who’d had an affair with another woman, and was on the back page, but they didn’t need to know that.

The day drug on. It only seemed to get colder. Barely anyone bought from him, and those that did tipped lousily. The possibly Brooklyn kid didn’t show, and he didn’t have any of his few regulars over here. All in all, it was an epic failure.

Deciding to call it quits early, Jack stuffed his last few papers into his shoes for extra warmth and shoved his hands into his pocket. He’d heard a story once about a girl who had to sell matches in the cold, and she died after lighting them all in an effort to preserve her warmth. Still, before she died she was transported to the most wonderful places, full of food and heat.

Jack felt a little bit like that. But instead of fantastical feasts, he got newspapers in his shoes.

Suddenly pausing, Jack rotated to face an alleyway. Maybe he’d heard something, or maybe it was something he saw in the corner of his eye. But all he knew was now he was walking into the shady alleyway with his hands squeezed into fists, praying he wasn’t about to get jumped. “Hello?”

Something mumbled to his right, but all he could see was snow.

“Hello?” he tried again. “Is someone there?”

Underneath a decent amount of snow, completely still save for his fluttering eyelids, was the boy from yesterday.

If possible, he looked even worse. His lips were chapped and bloody, and his skin had taken on a translucent tone. He looked like Jack could easily snap him in half.

“Jesus Christ!” Jack quickly bent down so he was at level with him, and brushed off the snow that had accumulated. “Are you alive? Can you hear me?”

When the kid didn’t respond, Jack pulled him out from the drift. He was disturbingly light.

Bruiser said to leave well enough alone, but if he left him out here in the cold like this, he’d probably die…

Scooping him up with ease, Jack stood up and made for the lodging house. He’d barely made it ten feet before the boy’s eyes opened. “No!” he was probably trying to scream, but his voice was so hoarse it barely made any noise. He wrestled his way out of Jack’s grasp and fell to the ground.

“Kid! What the hell! I’s trying to help you!” Jack grabbed at the kid, only for him to take a swing at Jack.

“I ain’t goin’ back! You can’t make me!” the kid crawled as quick as he could, but he wasn’t getting far.

“I’s not taking you back to...where ever you’s running from!” Jack didn’t try to grab the kid again, instead bending down to his level. “You’s gotta trust me, or you’ll freeze out here tonight. You ain’t lookin’ too well.”

“You...Snyder didn’t send you?” said the kid apprehensively.

Jack felt his blood run cold. “Snyder? As in the Refuge? Never. Look, kid, I don’t wanna hurt you. You’s sick, and all I’s gonna do is take you back to the other newsies. Can you tell me your name?” the kid remained silent, staring at the ground. “Look, kid, I need something to call you.”

“No, you don’t. What’s your name?” asked the kid.

“Jack. Jack Kelly,” Jack offered a hand, which the kid took with wide eyes.

“Jack Kelly? You’re the Jack Kelly? Holy shit! I-I’s heard all about you!” the kid seemed to be filled with a whole new energy. “You’s the one who escaped from the Refuge on Teddy Roosevelt's carriage!”

Jack felt his face burn, and he self consciously rubbed the back of his neck. “You’s...you’s heard about that? Is they still talkin’ about that at the Refuge?”

“Is they still talkin’ about that? Of course they’s still talkin’ about that! You’s a livin’ legend!” suddenly the kid doubled over in a fit of coughing, and Jack noticed red spots on his shirt when he finished.

“How about you come back with me to the lodgin’ house. We can talk more there,” Jack tugged at the kid’s arm, and he followed reluctantly. They walked a bit in silence until he finally said: “So how did you escape the refuge? Don’t tell me the spider just let you go.”

The kid seemed to be a lot more tired now. His burst of energy was over, and he was just trudging alongside Jack again. “Tied a sheet to the bed, tossed the end out the window, and took off like a shot. He ain’t even noticed I was missin’ until I reached Brooklyn,” he paused, looking back up at Jack. “I know it ain’t as epic as your story but...I’s not there anymore.”

“Place is awful. Damn it straight to hell,” muttered Jack.

“One day Snyder’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him. One day Snyder’s gonna die, and he’s gonna go to hell and pay his dues,” the kid was nodding eagerly, like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

How the kid could so quickly bounce from grey and tired to eager and hopeful was beyond Jack. It almost hurt him to have to set him straight.

“You’s so sure about that? Hate to be the one to break it to you…” Jack bit his lip, trailing off. “Ah, never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

“What? You gotta tell me. Can’t just start a conversation like that without finishing!” the kid pulled on Jack’s jacket.

“It ain’t a good thing, kid. I was just gonna say that bad people don’ usually get what they deserve. Nah, they get fancy parties and all the food they’d ever eat,” Jack put an arm around the kid, pulling him closer as he tried to ignore the waves of heat he could feel coming off the kid in spite of the cold. “Bad people usually end up with happily ever after. But at least we can make a penny off of them!” he tried to end with a smile, but the kid didn’t share it. Rather, he looked like he was deep in thought.

They walked in silence again for a while, until Jack turned a corner and could see the lodging house in the distance. By this point, the kid had returned to a more reclusive mood, barely responding to Jack’s attempts at starting conversation. Now and then he’d flash Jack a smile, and by God if it wasn’t the brightest smile that Jack had ever seen. He looked like he had sunshine itself trapped in there. It was hard to tell that the sick boy who he was taking back with him was the same boy who’d beaten Jack up the other day and given him the shiner that had developed on his eye.

“We’re almost there, kiddo, hang on,” Jack murmured.

“I’s fine! It’s nothin’. I’s walked twice this distance before, and didn’t even break a sweat!” he bragged.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” nodded Jack.

Race must’ve seen him coming, basically dragging the kid at this point, because he ran out to meet them halfway. “What’s goin’ on? Who’s the kid?”

“I ain’t a kid! I’s thirteen!” protested the kid. Race looked back and forth from him and Jack, looking excited.

“Is he gonna die? He looks like he’s gonna die,” Race said all too eagerly.

“Jesus Christ, Race, he ain’t gonna die. If y’wanna help so bad, go get Bruiser,” Jack waved his free hand. Race scrambled back to the lodging house, yelling a ‘sure thing’ behind him.

“Didn’t realize you had so much authority here,” the kid commented.

“Not really,” said Jack. “Just more than Race. I’s been here longer than him.”

“How long has y’been here?” asked the kid.

“Since I left the Refuge. So what, maybe...I dunno, four years? I came here when I was ten, and them older guys like Bruiser were all over me. Little kids sell better. I’s been trained since then to be the best at what I do,” Jack puffed out his chest proudly, smirking towards the younger boy.

“Yeah, right,” he laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. They stopped walking entirely as he hacked up what seemed to be his lungs into his sleeves, spotting red again.

“Jesus, kid, you’s really sick,” noted Jack. “You aren’t contagious, are you?”

The kid shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. I’s-I’s always sick like this. Ain’t ever died before.”

Not that Jack wanted this kid to die, but he kind of hoped he hadn’t done all this work practically carrying him here for nothing.

Bruiser was waiting for them right outside the lodging house. He studied the kid carefully, trying to place him. He could be one of Colon’s, and if he was they’d need to send him back as soon as he was well.

The kid flashed a smile towards Bruiser, the same award winning smile from earlier, but it’s marred by the fact that blood stains his teeth. “This is the guy?” confirmed Bruiser, all business.

“Yes, sir,” Jack nodded. Old habits die hard.

“Take him to Poet, she’ll fix him up quick enough. Then come meet me in my office,” Bruiser said.

Poet was one of the only girls who stuck around. Sure, there were always a few here and there that would stay with them for a few months, but none of them were eager to live with boys permanently. Except Poet. With mousy brown hair, copper eyes, and dull freckles, Jack didn’t personally think she was much of a looker. But who knows, Bruiser certainly did.

“So you’re the homeless bum who managed to beat up our Jack,” Poet said as she looked over the kid.

“Poet!” Jack flushed. “You can’t-”

“Oh, shush,” she stuck a hand out to the kid’s forehead. “Shit, you’s hot as hell. How long you been sick?”

“Sometimes I think that I’s never not sick,” he grumbled. Poet raised her eyebrows, so he continued on: “Maybe a week or so? I’s been coughing for a lot longer than that, though.”

“How long you’ve been coughing? Do you remember?” he shook his head. “Alright. I’m gonna go find my book,” Poet had a book full of medical advice that she loved to flip through whenever she was ‘treating’ somebody. Always kept it hidden in her bunk so nobody else could look at it. Said that it made her feel important. “You stay here.”

Which left Jack alone with the kid again.

The kid was covered in grime and soot. He’d clearly been living on the streets for a while, and been in a few fights. He had faded bruises all over his arms and his face. Which is probably why he knew how to fight so well, and how he took Jack out so quickly.

“Here,” said Jack suddenly, grabbing a pail of water and a cloth from Poet’s station. “Clean yourself off, you look like death.”

“Thanks.”

Jack stood there again for another moment, until he remembered Bruiser’s orders to meet him after dropping the kid off with Poet. “You good here? Bruiser wants to see me…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! Go ahead. Do whatever you need,” said the kid.

“Of course. Thanks,” Jack internally cursed a bit. Why did he thank the kid? The kid needed to thank him. He saved that kid’s life!

Maybe.

“So I says leave well enough alone, and you brings him back to the lodgin’ house,” summed up Bruiser. “That sound about right?”

Jack nodded sheepishly.

“Glad we got that cleared up. Lemme know if you need another reminder of you’s bein’ stupid. Next is what we’s gonna do with him. Has he told y’if he’s from Brooklyn?” Bruiser asked.

“He ’scaped from the Refuge, that’s all I got outta him. Dunno if it was Brooklyn before that, or…” he trailed off.

“It’d look pretty good for us if he was Brooklyn. We send him back to Colon all healed up and he owes us one,” Bruiser looked pretty proud of himself for thinking that one up. “Yeah. It’d be pretty great to have Colon owe us one for once.”

“Sure would, but I don’t think he’s a newsie,” said Jack.

Bruiser’s face dropped. “Oh. That’s shit. Still, I’ll send word to Colon, see if he wants to claim him.”

“Claim him? What, like he’s some item being bartered away?” Jack said ferociously.

“It ain’t like that, kid-”

“Like hell it ain’t like that! You can’t treat him like he’s just-just an item!”

“It ain’t like that, Jack!” Bruiser said, more forcefully this time. “Don’t shout about things you don’t understand. It ain’t just ’bout some kid who beat you up. Brooklyn’s one of the most powerful cities in the world. We need to be on Colon’s good side. If he wants the kid, he can have the kid. We ain’t gonna stand in his way.”

“Colon’s got no claim to the kid! The kid ain’t a newsie, and he ain’t from Brooklyn,” spat Jack. “Colon don’t even need to know he exists!” with that, Jack stormed out of the room, ignoring Bruiser’s shouts and the fact that he may have just lost everything he’d taken so long to gain.

So stuck in his head, Jack didn’t notice as he ran straight into the kid in question. “Sorry!” the kid shouted as he fell to the floor. “I’s just-” he swallowed. “I’s just trying to find you. And I found ya. Hello,” he gave an awkward wave.

Jack studied him carefully. He was probably eavesdropping, knowing they were talking about him.

There was no reason for him to be treated any differently than any of their other recruits. Except for the fact that he was possibly from Brooklyn. If he was from the Bronx, or Woodstock, it wouldn’t be an issue.

It’s like the kid read his mind. “I ain’t from Brooklyn, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just happened to-” he broke off, coughing viciously into his arm. He was still spotting blood. “Happened to be in the area. Like you.”

Jack didn’t respond to that. Instead, he just said: “You should get some rest. Don’t want to go through all of this trouble to have you dying on me.”

The kid nodded, and started making his way back to where Poet was.

“So what’s the deal with the new guy?” Race asked, appearing from out of the blue as soon as Jack entered the room. “Is he gonna die?”

“Why don’t you ask Poet?” replied Jack dryly.

“Can’t find her anywhere. If you ask me, that’s a sure sign that he ain’t doin’ so hot. Not if she ain’t leavin’ his bedside,” reasoned Race.

“Why you so obsessed with death, kid?”

“I ain’t obsessed. But it’s interestin’. I overheard Bruiser talkin’ to someone about sending a letter over to Colon,” Jack’s eyes narrowed, with Race clearly noticed, as he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “We’s startin’ a game of poker, wanna join?”

“That depends, you improved your poker face anymore?” Jack smiled.

“Hey! I tell ya, I gotta list of who owes me money a half mile long!” insisted Race, punching Jack in the arm.

“Yeah, and a list of who you owe three times that,” said Jack. The pair made their way to the table, and he tried his best to put the new kid out of his mind. Most likely he’d go to Colon, and they’d part ways as unlikely friends.

“Colon doesn’t want him,” Bruiser said, lighting his cigarette. “Says he ain’t one of his. Poet says he’s gonna be better real soon. You need to talk to him, see if he’s gonna stay with us.”

“Why me?” asked Jack.

“You’s the one who brought him in. You’s gotta take responsibility for what’s yours,” Bruiser shrugged. “You think I got to where I am by lettin’ other people do my work for me? Nah. Jack, you ain’t an idiot. You gotta know that I want you in charge of Manhattan when I’s gone,” Jack hadn’t dared to hope that that’s why Bruiser liked him so much. Why he wanted to spend so much time with him. “And when it comes to shit like this? You’s gotta take life by the balls and do things yourself. That kid out there beat the shit outta you, Jackie. Trust me when I say he’s someone you want with you.”

Jack nodded, his heart swelling. Bruiser thought that he would make a good leader. That he could handle Manhattan.

Here’s the thing - when Jack showed up at the newsies’ door demanding a job and rent to last him the night, Bruiser was the one who covered for him then. It was Bruiser who trusted him enough to give him some of his pay without barely speaking to him. It was Bruiser who taught Jack everything that he knew. It was Bruiser that Jack sold with until he was good enough to sell on his own. The first time that Jack got into a fist fight with the Delanceys, Bruiser was the one who patted him on the back and stitched him up, telling him where to aim next time.

Bruiser was the closest thing that Jack had to family, and his believing in Jack meant the world to him.

Jack ran through the lodging house at top speed, not stopping to answer questions, opting to instead just shout “I’s in a good mood, that’s all” behind him as he ran. By the time he reached the room where the kid was staying, he was out of breath with the biggest smile on his face.

“Hey, kid-” he stopped. The kid was asleep on a cot, buried under a few measly excuses for blankets.

“Don’t bother him,” Poet whispered from the doorway. “He hasn’t been doing so hot. Just now starting to make his way to recovery,” Poet always sounded different than others when she talked. Jack had always chalked it up to her being a girl - the newsies were mostly guys - but now that he thought about it, she sounded more like the richer folks they sold to. Her accent had always been different, but right now she sounded like she was talking slower, carefully choosing how her words would sound. “Why don’t you come out here with me, Jackie?”

Poet and Bruiser had always had a bit of a thing. They’d flirt on and off, hang out together. They’d even kissed a few times, maybe done more than that. They were best friends. When Bruiser got stabbed by some asshole on the streets (who was never identified) Poet stayed by his side until he made a complete recovery. It was the only time Jack had seen her yell at the younger kids. She usually reserved that anger for the bums on the street who made lewd comments and groped her.

“What’s with ya, Poet? You seem upset,” said Jack.

“I ain’t - I’m not upset. Just thinking, that’s all,” she corrected. “What’s got you so excited to speak to the kid?”

“Bruiser sent me. Told me to ask if the kid’s plannin’ on staying with us or goin’ back to the streets,” Jack said.

“Well, I hope he’s planning on staying longer. He’ll be up and moving soon, but if he goes back out there he’ll probably die,” Poet said it so nonchalantly, Jack had to do a double take to process what she said.

“Die? He ain’t just - just gotta cold or somethin’?” well, he was coughing up blood.

Poet almost looked excited. “I figure it’s either Bronchitis or Pneumonia. They’re very similar, you know. Hard to differentiate with my book. But either way, he’s likely to die if he goes out in the cold again so soon. Add onto the fact that he’s extremely underweight and starving...let’s just say it would be best for him to stay here.”

Jack smiled. The kid seemed pretty cool, when he wasn’t beating Jack up. Had some sense of humor, and despite his going to the Refuge the kid had the brightest smile Jack’d ever seen. Bright enough to light up an entire room. Sure, he beat the crap out of him when they met, but could Jack really blame him for that? He’d do the same, in that position. “Good. I’s glad to hear that.”

“I can tell,” Poet replied, twisting the ends of her hair.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Hm?”

“You’s all distracted. Staring at nothin’, twistin’ your hair,” Jack motioned with his hands. “Is it a girly thing I ain’t gonna understand?”

Poet chuckled. “No, no, it’s just-” she was interrupted by a groaning in the kid’s room. “Shit, I should-”

“Nah, it’s alright. I’s gotta talk to him, anyways. Go find Bruiser and tell him what’s eating you,” Jack liked to pride himself on knowing his friends well. If Poet was upset about something, she wasn’t going to talk to Jack about it. No, the only person she’d even consider discussing it with would be Bruiser.

And off she went.

The kid was sitting up on his cot. “Jack!”

“Kid! Good to see you’re not dead!” that was always a pleasant start to a conversation.

“Yeah, I’d like to think so,” the kid smirked.

“You feelin’ better?”

“Yeah! Ain’t coughed up any blood today, so...that’s a bonus. Poet tells me that I’s gonna make a full recovery.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard. She says it’s best you stay here for a few days and then...it’s up to you.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“You think...you think you’s gonna stay here?”

“Is I allowed? I’d hate to be the one to intrude on your living situation, and I ain’t got no money to pay for rent. I ain’t got a job.”

“Well you wanna live here, you gotta be a newsie.”

“A newsie?”

“Yeah. Y’know, we sell the papes. Screamin’ on every corner of the street-”

“Yeah, I know what a newsie is.”

“Ah. So how about it? Trade you’s life of crime for a hat and a stack of papes just itchin’ to be sold?” Jack had sat down on the cot beside the kid. There was half a foot between them, close enough where he could feel the kid’s still lingering body heat coming off him in waves.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Jack spit into his hand, and stuck it out. Without hesitation, the kid did the same.

“We’s gotta call you somethin’. What’s your name, kid?” the kid was silent, messing with the end of his shirt again. “Don’t wanna tell me? That’s fine. We could come up with a nickname for you. Like Race. His nickname’s Racetrack, because he’s always betting on the races. It’s like he’s gotta nickname for a nickname!” Jack laughed, and the kid let out a weak chuckle. “So how’s ’bout it? Got any ideas?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t worry, I’s got plenty,” Jack scooted back a bit so he could get full view of the kid’s appearance. His hair was sticking up in a thousand different ways, and his arms had indentations from the blankets. His collarbones were jutting out sharply, and his legs were wrapped around each other. “How’s...Scruffy?”

“Scruffy?!”

“Yeah! You look’s kind of scruffy. With you’s hair, and...I dunno, it just fits.”

“There’s no way you’re calling me Scruffy.”

“Fine. What’re your hobbies?” asked Jack.

“Excuse me?”

“Hobbies! What are they? Like...Poet likes to write, so we call her Poet. Bruiser likes to fight, so we call him Bruiser. You’ve got any hobbies?” Jack poked the kid’s arm.

“Not really. Unless lying on the street and starvin’ is a hobby,” the kid joked.

“Nah. Maybe...Scrappy?” he shook his head. “Scabber?” nope. “Burner?” nope. “Jesus, kid, why you gotta be so damn picky?”

“We’s talkin’ about more than just a name,” the kid wrapped an arm around Jack and stretched another in front of them like there was a magnificent view. “We’s talkin’ about my legacy. When they tell stories about me, I don’t want them talkin’ about no Scrappy! Nah, it has to be something epic. Something that fits.”

“Well you ain’t got any hobbies, you ain’t got any particularly defining physical features, except them ears,” the kid laughed. “Unless you got a better idea, I guess we’s gonna have to keep callin’ you kid, for now.”

“Kid’ll have to do.”

“I’s not upset, Poet,” Bruiser was saying.

“You look upset. I was just telling you because-” Poet sounded strained.

“I gets it, Poet. I’s-I’s happy for you,” Bruiser did not sound happy.

Jack and the kid were sitting on their bunk bed, trying very much to not eavesdrop on the loud conversation that was happening through the door by them. The kid was on the top bunk, almost folded in on himself. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his arms were wrapped tightly around him. Jack was on the bottom, hugging his pillow.

“Thanks. I just...I’m leaving tomorrow night. I won’t be back,” she said.

“Never?” Bruiser asked.

“They live in California, it’s not like I could come back for a day,” there was a decent amount of silence now. Enough for Jack to wonder if the conversation was over, or if they’d moved on to...other activities.

“I’s...I’s tryin’ to understand, but I can’t get it. You ain’t-you ain’t gonna be able to get an education! Sorry, Poet, it ain’t gonna happen!”

“What the hell, Bruiser?”

“You ever hear ’bout a woman doctor?”

“Bruiser, maybe if you ever read the papes you sell so well you’d know we’ve got one right here in New York. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell,” said Poet. “I didn’t come here to ask your permission. I came here to say goodbye. If this is how you’s gonna be, I’s just gonna leave,” Poet sounded like she was crying.

Bruiser sighed. There was more silence.

“Maybe it’s just time. I’s been thinkin’ as well...I’s 23. That’s pretty damn old to still be sellin’ papes. I could goes with you, get a job out west...how hard could it be?” Jack felt his heart all but stop. He had to shove his fist into his mouth to keep his cries from escaping. Bruiser was leaving? Like it was nothing, he’d just drop everything and go to California.

He’d talked about Jack being in charge one day. Jack didn’t think that it would be so soon. There were so many people who were older than him, more experienced.

If Bruiser left, if Poet left...Jack would be all on his own.

“Bruiser...I can’t ask you to give this up, to leave all of your family behind,” Poet said.

“Poet...you’s my family. I ain’t need anything else but that,” tears were streaming down Jack’s face. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air, space, something.

Scrambling up from his bed, Jack raced to the window, tossing it open. The fresh air wasn’t enough, he need more. He needed to escape.

There was a fire escape outside the window. Jack looked behind him to make sure nobody was following him, and then climbed out the window onto the landing of the fire escape.

The cold was bitter, numbing Jack’s skin already. He was regretting his decision a bit, but adrenaline was pumping and he couldn’t stop now. The ladder to the roof was icy, and he kept having to brush off snow with his bare hands. By the time he got to the top, he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

It was dusk. The sun cast an orange hue throughout the city, and illuminated the silhouettes of nearby buildings. Snow dusted everything, shaping the world around him. It glistened like diamonds, covering all the darkness and dirt that Jack knew what there. Despite the freezing temperature, it looked soft enough to the point where Jack could just fall into it and be safe. Like it could embrace and surround him, and never leave him.

“Jack?” a voice called from the ladder, startling Jack from his thoughts. It was the kid. He was struggling up, both due to the snow as well as the blankets filling his arms. “Jack, it’s pretty cold up here. You could use one of these.”

Jack silently took the blanket from the kid, wrapping it around himself and trying to massage some warmth back into his hands.

“It’s a lovely view, ain’t it?” commented the kid. “I’s never gonna get tired of it. The skyline, with the sun and the snow…”

Yeah, it was beautiful. Another day he might’ve drawn it from the window. Maybe one day he’d come up to the roof himself to paint it.

“When I’s…when I’s a kid, way younger, I used to have a roof like this. Small apartment, barely ’nough room for the three of us. But it hadda roof that put everything else to shame. I’s go up there, and sit. Like a-a penthouse. A penthouse in the sky,” the kid sighed. “Course it ain’t gonna last forever, nothin’ does. Soon enough my ma she-she died alongside what was gonna be my little sister. Things kept changin’ and-and soon enough I never see that roof again,” Jack could feel his sideways glance.

“You shouldn’t be up here, you’ll catch your death,” muttered Jack. “Last thing we need is you’s getting sick again.”

“I feels fine, Jack,” the kid scooted closer to him. “Do you wanna...wanna talk about anything?”

Jack was silent.

“I don’t wanna push or nothin’, but you seemed awful upset about what Bruiser said. You seem awful upset. You says...you says you’ve been here a while?”

“Yeah,” that’s one way to put it. “They’s my family. Only family I got that eva’ gave a damn. And now they’s just-they’s just up and leavin’ like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like I don’t matter at all to them. Not enough to keep them here,” Jack scoffed. “Y’know, Bruiser talked to me ’bout maybe having me be in his shoes one day. I thought-I thought he’s meaning in a year or so. Turns out he’s talkin’ around a week.”

“Y’know what, Jack, lemme tell you something. You’s gonna be just fine. You’s gonna do a great job, no matter what. I just gotta feelin’,” smiled the kid.

“It ain’t just that. Bruiser, Poet...they’s my family. They picked me up when I was nothin’, and took me to where I am now. I loves them more than I loves my own flesh and blood. How’s I supposed to live without them? How’s I supposed to go on knowing they ain’t cared enough to stay with me? I hate them,” Jack spat.

“No, you don’t. You’s angry at them for leaving you. For movin’ on. I can’t say I’s blamin’ you, Jack-” the kid coughed into his elbow, struggling for breath. Jack pulled him a bit closer.

“Kid, they’s the only family I got,” whispered Jack.

“You’s gonna make more family. Besides, you got all’a these boys here who’s your family. You says that you loves them. Prove it. Let ’em move on,” the kid squeezed Jack’s hand.

“You thinks you could do the same thing, if it was someone you cared about? If your family wanted to leave you behind and never see you again, would you let ’em?” asked Jack.

“I hope I could. But I’s pretty selfish. I think you’s better at lettin’ people go than I am,” he shrugged.

“I gotta be,” Jack looked over to where the kid was huddled. Now that he’d started to calm down a bit, he realized just how excruciatingly cold it was. And the kid was still skin and bones, just barely at the point of recovery. Feeling that familiar maternal instinct that was buried somewhere deep inside him kick in, Jack said, “C’mon, kid, let’s get you inside before I’m haulin’ your body around again.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “I’s meaning it, though. You’s gotta family here. You’s not gonna be alone when Bruiser and Poet leave.”

“Yeah, alright kid.”

“Charlie.”

“Hm?”

“My name’s...I’s Charlie.”

“Oh. Well...it’s nice to meetcha, Charlie.”

Jack smiled.