Once bitten, twice shy

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

[Late Monday morning]
[May 3rd, Day 337]
[The Miskatonic Café]


It gets harder to leave every time I wake up in Verdi’s bed, though this morning that was partly because one ankle was still mostly tied to the bedpost. I had it untied by the time she came out of the shower, although it took quite a bit of kissing to convince her she shouldn’t tie me right back up. I managed it in the end, though, and she let me have my turn in the shower.

After I finished and was collecting my clothes, she did say she wouldn’t mind having me hang around the Tavern until I had to go to work, and someday I might, but today I made my excuses and got dress and went down the stairs. Until things are worked out all the way with Ri, I’m holding myself to having fun with Verdi once in a while, but not anything that’d look like I’ve just exchanged living with her for living with Ri.

It’s a nice day, but the sun seems just a little too bright, what with amount of drink I had last night and the sleep I didn't, so I duck into the café for some coffee to clear my head. Sitting down feels a little better than walking, though not by much. Almost regret how used Verdi’s gotten to my belt. Oh, goddess. And smile into my mug. Might take my time here, and then go see about something I’m planning for Ri before work.


[OPEN to Iago]
[CLOSED]

Comments

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

Since Lucien and I last spoke, I've been turning over our conversation and the advice that he gave me. With that in mind, I plan on visiting Verdi tonight to get my job back. I doubt she's replaced me so quickly but on the off chance she has, I already have my tale prepared. It's a good one as well and close enough to a smidgen of the truth that I'll likely not need to explain too much. I hope.

I've not seen or spoken to my love since the day at the General Store and my heart aches from want of her company and conversation. I miss her dry comments and quiet laughter, and especially the warmth of her sweet body next to mine. It's not to be, not for a while yet and I sigh before distracting myself with the business of ordering lunch instead. One for here and two to go, I say before glancing around to casually scan the cafe.

Lunch is in full swing, the mouth-watering smell of food mixed with the occasional whiff of perfume here and there. I'm about to turn back to the waitress when I spy Jarmyn sitting two tables away. I could speak to him but what would I have to say? Too little or too much, I think. I'm so caught up in my musings that without realizing it, I've unintentionally made eye contact with him. Well, fuck. I give him a brief nod before returning my attention to the waitress and adding a side dish to my order.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I’m almost done with my first cup and the café is starting to fill up around me. Well enough. I love the sounds of a busy restaurant just as long as no one’s yelling, and I’ll be happy to sit back and keep drinking coffee until it looks like Tulzcha needs my table for customers paying more than I am.

I’m just watching the people and figuring out how much coffee I can actually afford to drink when I see him come in. Not swaggering quite like he was the last time I had cause to look at him closely, but there’s no mistaking that ass or the way he fills out a shirt. His hair’s not bad, either, though he could grow it out some. Still think Iago’s a fine-looking man, though I can’t really find it in myself to be turned on very much.

It takes him a while to notice me: he looks distracted and not particularly happy. When he does, though, he holds my gaze for a little while and then nods shortly before he looks back at the waitress. Not overjoyed to see me, that much is clear. Figured that’d be the case. But I can’t really tell what he’s thinking, and that makes me wonder. I’m still a bit curious about the man.

Start thinking hard about whether I have anything that needs saying to him. I guess I can think of a couple things, and some things I want to say, besides, questions I wouldn’t mind having answered. Mostly I want to see what he’ll do about me, whether he’ll look me in the eye again, or be seen with me in public. Not like Glass can kick either one of us out again.

I wait until the waitress leaves to collect my mug, wincing a little as I stand up to make my way the short distance to his table. Put one hand on the back of the chair opposite his, but don’t pull it out. “Can I join you for a minute?” Try to say it plainly, not like I’m after picking a fight. I think if he wanted to hit me, he’d have done it before now, and I have less than no interest in hitting him in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

As the pretty blonde waitress leaves with my order, I'm glancing past her to see Jarmyn rise and make his way over to me. It's vaguely possible he might have misunderstood my gaze to mean more than it did. Who knows? Whatever the case may be, he's standing across from me, waiting on my reply.

My first thought is to be rude as hell, taking all my recent frustrations out on him but that would ruin my lunch. That's not counting the possibilities of an ugly scene as well. It sucks greatly that that the notion's not as unappealing as I wish it would be. Ah well. There's always time to contemplate that sort of mayhem later but for the moment, I decide to curb the impulse instead.

I gesture to his chair, nodding briefly as I reply in a neutral tone, "I suppose so." I light a smoke while considering which topic to bring up before asking evenly, "How's your roommate?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

”I suppose so,” he says, his tone as careful as mine. I pull the chair out and slide in carefully, glad of the coffee cup to occupy my hands. No use in letting him see me fidget. I sit back in such a way as to put the least amount of pressure on the fewest bruises, considering him.

He lights up and asks after…I guess he means Verite. Going to take it as that, anyway, because I don’t want to talk about Tarquin. Don’t much want to talk about me and Ri, but I did set out to be polite. “I moved out.” The sentence comes out kind of short-sounding. Wonder if I should say she’s my girlfriend, if she’d thank me for it. But I wouldn’t call Verdi my girlfriend. “We’re…starting over, I guess. Long story.”

Not that any of this is any of Iago’s business. But the reason I was staying at the salon in the first place maybe is. And that brings me to one of the things I wanted to say to him. It takes me a minute to think of words to put around it, though. “Should say thank you for whatever you said to Glass that made her give me my rent back, after. I’m sure it took some doing.” Also sure she wouldn’t have done it of her own accord. “And…I’m sorry for my part in all this, the trouble it’s caused you.” Though it’s not like it hasn’t caused me just as much.

I look down at my mug, which is mostly empty. There, I’ve said my piece, or most of it, so if he gets angry I can just go.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"I moved out. We’re…starting over, I guess. Long story."

I knew he was living with a young blonde man but I hadn't realized they were involved. I was under the impression that he was single but truly, I don't recall asking specifics the last time we spoke. No matter as his living situation is over and begun again in the space of one sentence. I have my own complications and can't concern myself with his enough to ask for clarification. Keeping a firm rein on my sarcasm, I nod again and evenly offer, "Good luck with that."

He looks uncomfortable. Our situation was a bit awkward at our last meeting but certainly not enough to warrant this reaction. He solves the mystery for me as he says, "Should say thank you for whatever you said to Glass that made her give me my rent back, after. I’m sure it took some doing."

None of what he's just said makes sense to me. I'm confused and check my smoke to make sure it's tobacco and not anything else. Only paper and tobacco. Scowling slightly, I say, "You're welcome..? I'm a bit fuzzy on the details." I guess he's moved out of his apartment. I wasn't aware of that but it's not as though I'd been paying attention either. Apparently, I made Glass do something as well. As if. My scowl fades and I manage a brief half-grin before asking, "When did she get around to doing that?"

"And…I’m sorry for my part in all this, the trouble it’s caused you."

I narrow my eyes, suddenly ready to hiss my displeasure at him. Nearly biting my own tongue, I stop myself. What good would it do me? Not a damn thing as it won't bring back Milady Glass. I take a few long drags, quiet as the waitress places my order in front of me. "Yes, me too." Let him take it as he wants and I continue pleasantly, "You knew I was married. Did you believe that my wife wouldn't notice, or that she wouldn't care?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I can see him holding himself back, hear it in his voice. He’s trying hard not to be spiteful, I’m sure of that. Also pretty sure he’s truly confused over the matter of the rent. But this man is a cardshark and a bartender and a rake, and I know he could look me in the eye and lie to me without showing anything.

I think hard about what he’s said as his food arrives, both glad for the chance to marshal my thoughts and not wanting to speak in front of the waitress. When she’s gone, I set my mug down and look him in the eye, just even, no challenge. “I imagine it was shortly after Glass told me I wasn’t welcome under her roof. You’d know better than I would. It was every cent I’d ever given her for rent, left for me at the ‘Boy, and I can’t imagine she’d have done it unless someone convinced her to. Thought that was you.” But maybe it wasn’t. Don’t think it was Miao, either. Well, I have the money, so I’m not going to think too hard about why and wherefores.

There, that’s the matter of the money. But he put a second question to me, which is pretty plain in my mind, but maybe a little muddled in his. “And as for the matter of what we did in the first place, you and me, yeah, I did know you were married. Sat down with you when you told me to knowing, and went upstairs when you told me to knowing. Followed all your orders, knelt and crawled and took my shirt off for you, knowing you were married, though I’ll admit it wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” And that’s as much of a concession as I’ll make.

I stop a minute, making a show of searching for the words, of acting tired and confused and very, very not angry. “I guess…I’d have thought you knew a little better about the married part, and what Glass would stand for and what she wouldn’t. Didn’t expect you’d tell me to do anything that’d get you in trouble, I guess.” I want to tell him he’s the one who married her, not me. But I know that would anger him, and so I don’t.

I don’t want a fight with him, not here, not in the state I’m in, not ever, but if it comes to that, maybe I can convince him to take it into the alley.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"I imagine it was shortly after Glass told me I wasn’t welcome under her roof. You’d know better than I would. It was every cent I’d ever given her for rent, left for me at the ‘Boy, and I can’t imagine she’d have done it unless someone convinced her to. Thought that was you."

He tells me two things that I didn't know, about Glass no less and I'm vaguely pleased as I reply, "Actually, I was unaware that Glass had sent you packing. As such, that bit of financial mercy was something she chose to do."

Why didn't she say anything to me? And while returning his money was an obvious kindness, I'm curious to know if Milady Glass views it the same way. Was it a kindness, or a dismissal? It's food for thought and I consider his notion that I helped him before adding, "I couldn't influence anything that I didn't know about. Can't take credit for that one."

I listen quietly as he answers my question. He's defensive and quickly shifts most, if not all of the blame to me. If I didn't agree with him, I'd argue but as it stands right now, I'd rather eat my lunch instead. Doesn't mean I'm not interested in hearing a bit more of what passes for his side. He lays it all out and I begin to eat, silent except for the random scrap of my fork across my plate.

When he's said his piece, I give him a thoughtful look. "Perhaps you're right about my part in all this and perhaps that drops you off-the-hook for most of the blame. Arguing with you doesn't better my current situation so it's of no use." Not today anyway. I poke at my food before giving him a serious look. "We can't be friends though. I have enough on my plate for the moment."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I watch him carefully when he says he didn’t know about what Glass did, and I think he’s telling the truth. Going to keep thinking about that, though.

He lets me get through everything I have to say about that night, just looking thoughtful and sad. Even comes out and says he won’t argue with me. Which of course makes me feel just wretched, though I still stand by everything I laid out. I watch him eat a minute, which is more than a little awkward, and then he looks up and pins me with his eyes. And that does hurt, him saying outright we can’t be friends. Guess I should have expected it, though. Try to think of something to say that might help. “Shouldn’t hit you when you’re down, I’m sorry. It’s just that the gossip going around’s pinning most of this right on me.” Surely he must have heard some of it, even if he didn’t spread it. “Not saying I was unwilling in what we did, or blind, or that it was all your doing, just… didn’t expect things to go this wrong because of it, for either of us.”

If I thought he’d shake my hand I’d offer it to him, or kneel and touch his shoe if we were standing. As it is… “I need some more coffee, ‘cause your boss kept me up half the night.” And manage sort of a smile. “Can I get you some?”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

We're not meant to be friends and I tell him so. He apologizes again and I nod before waving it off. It is what it is. His comment about gossip has me curious and I say, "I haven't heard any thing regarding you from random gossipers but perhaps I haven't been paying enough attention." It's true and it has me thinking that I've been out of the loop for longer than I'd like.

I catch the bit about "...didn’t expect things to go this wrong because of it, for either of us." Apparently he's an optimistic sort and I shrug as I say, "I suppose you know better now and so do I. Avoiding myself and Lucien will likely help the rumors to quiet down. Town's small though. Expect it to get worse before it gets better." I poke at my food again, glancing up when he offers to get coffee and mentions my boss.

I nod in agreement, smiling a bit. "Coffee sounds good. As for my boss keeping you up, I have to ask who you believe my boss is." Does he believe it's Verdi? Are they fucking and I didn't notice that either? Well damn. Questions and more questions and I casually add, "And if it's Verdi, you're going to need something stronger than coffee. I suggest espresso instead."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Not quite sure what to say when he says he hasn’t heard any gossip. I’m not about to suggest that that might be because most of the gossip’s probably coming from his lady wife, who can’t stand me or keep her mouth shut. “You don’t drink at the Whitechapel,” I finally offer. “Or come much to the ‘Boy.” And those are both true enough. “Word is I propositioned you, and you wouldn’t have it. No one’s yet called me whore to my face, but I’d rather it didn’t come to that.” And leave it at that. No use getting angry at him over it. Maybe he’s right that it’ll get worse. I’m going to do my best to keep both jobs and weather things out. Not going to get any help from him over it.

He will take coffee with me, which is sort of like friendship, here and now. Something friends do, anyway. And things are calm and civil enough now. This will not end with us spitting at each other in the street. Wonder if he’s spoken to Lucien about that. I lift my hand to get the waitress’s attention. “Verdi, yeah.” And can’t help grinning, because when you get right down to it, I got laid last night and he didn’t. Imagine he’s not had anything but his own hand for comfort in a while, and will for a good while more. But throwing that up in his face just now won’t help anything.

“Seen a bit of her lately. She’s a hell of a woman,” I tell him, once the coffee’s ordered. “And…a bit more than just a woman.” And I watch him close to see if he knows what she really is. I’d bet money that they’ve fucked, but even then he still might not know exactly what she is.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"You don’t drink at the Whitechapel. Or come much to the ‘Boy." I shake my head and he continues, repeating the salacious rumor he's heard. Technically, it's true but it's hair-splitting at this point, and even though I passed on the sex, it doesn't help. Not much anyway. Still glad I passed though. There's very little chance of recovering a relationship after that sort of trouble and I'm in enough hot water as it is.

He confirms that he was with Verdandi and grins smugly about it. I hope she puts him through a damn wall. One of my eyebrows arch as he mentions her being "...a bit more than just a woman." Ah, he knows then. I'm curious about how much and it lights a spark of wicked amusement in me.

I return his grin and say, "Truly, and there were quite a few times when I was certain she wasn't a woman at all. She's full of all sorts of intriguing surprises." Obviously pleased, I lean forward and lower my tone as I ask, "Has she shown you the basement yet?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He has nothing to answer the rumors with, but I expected as much. Didn’t expect outrage or righteous indignation, either. A man in his position can afford to ignore those kinds of rumors.

The way he smirks at me and raises a brow tells me he does know there’s more to Verdi than meets the eye, and that he’s maybe experienced it. And that’s something kindred, though it’s me in her bed now, and I’ll see it stays that way. “Surprised the hell out of me,” I agree. “How strong she is and how much she likes my…tastes.” And he’ll know what I mean by that, for all he didn’t like them himself. “Likes being…taken care of, too. Worshipped, I guess.” I’m a little wary of saying that to him, but if he does know what she is, then he knows that’s what she deserves. That I would fight him over.

He leans forward, his voice as quiet as mine, and asks has she shown me the basement. I shake my head. “It’s where she does the brewing and distilling, right? There something down there I should know about?” Can’t imagine it’s like Wanda’s basement, but maybe Verdi’s got an altar down there, or a spring, or something.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"Surprised the hell out of me. How strong she is and how much she likes my...tastes." I'm familiar with both and I nod, interested despite my misgivings, as he continues, "Likes being...taken care of, too. Worshipped, I guess."

Both of my eyebrows go up at that. That clinches it for me and I chuckle before saying, "You have the right of it, especially considering her particular nature. She loves a good brawl so I'm not surprised that you two get along so well." I smirk, adding, "She'll tell you otherwise but she likes a little blood now and then." I wink at him, recalling that no blood was a rule of his. We'll see how that works out for him.

I ask if he's been shown the basement and he shakes his head before asking, "It’s where she does the brewing and distilling, right? There something down there I should know about?"

I grin, pleased to have piqued his curiosity. "The larger equipment is down there but that's not all--" I pause, purposely holding back what I know. "Truly, I shouldn't ruin the surprise." Grinning slyly, I continue, "Verdi leading the tour is half the thrill anyway. I saw a side of her that some would call shocking and my heart was racing the whole time." Am I misleading him? Perhaps, but the notion that he'd enjoy it, is a possibility as well.

I stir two spoons of sugar into my coffee and my grin's the devil's own as I casually add, "I'd tell you but frankly, I don't see why I should. I don't owe you anything and I doubt you have something I want." My grin sharpens briefly as I suggest, "Unless you have something new to offer or perhaps, a forfeit of some sort."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I take in what Iago’s telling me, trying to ignore the way he’s smirking at me as he does. Thinking about Verdi and blood makes me remember the stains on her thighs. Maybe she didn’t mean to give me anything, and maybe it didn’t mean anything to her, but still, that was her blood. If she wants mine, she can have it. Owe her that, but not going to say as much to Iago.

His smirk widens when I ask after the basement and he spins a tale, not giving me much in the way of an answer. So they fucked down there, and maybe she did something he’d never had done before. Well enough. Or maybe she has something hidden down there, something only goddesses might have, though I can’t for the life of me think what that might be. Guess I don’t know that much about goddesses. Maybe Verdi can change shape or something.

The waitress comes back with our coffee, and I think hard about just stepping back over to the tavern and putting the question to Verdi myself. And then I look up to see that cat’s grin all over Iago’s face. Think I could make a case for him owing me a fair bit, but let that lie. “Something new to offer?” And it’s my turn to cock an eyebrow at him. “Not anything I’ve offered you before, then?” Because I did offer him a hell of a lot. “Something different and special now?” He’s not the only one who can be sharp. “Imagine I could tell you something about your wife you don’t know. Or something about Verdi. Which’d you have?” And there, that’ll leave him wondering over one, unless he wants to offer up something else himself.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"Something new to offer?" I smirk as I nod. "Not anything I’ve offered you before, then? Something different and special now?" I shake my head to each question, amused by the look he's giving me. He has my full attention when he offers, "Imagine I could tell you something about your wife you don’t know. Or something about Verdi. Which’d you have?"

To say that I'm intrigued is an understatement and I wonder what sort of bargain I'd have to strike to have both. Curbing my greedy impulse, I reply smoothly, "Something about my wife then, since she's my favorite." Pausing, I stir my coffee for a bit before saying, "For that, I suppose I could offer you information about a particular room in the basement."

Laying the spoon aside, I make my counter-offer. "Unless you want something exceptionally juicy, about Verdandi no less. How much do you truly know about your bedmate?" Chuckling, I add, "How much could you stand to know?" I take a sip of my coffee before pleasantly saying, "I'd tell you a tale for that second bit you offered. Verdandi's endlessly entertaining."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Oh, he looks like he has it all together, but I can see the interest in his eyes, real interest in what I might have to say. And that is sweet, for all I don’t want the man for more than talking to anymore. I just listen to him talk, saying he wants to hear about Glass, pausing a minute, and then offering me something about Verdandi in return for what I have to tell him about her.

Think about all that, and then think of what to say back, choosing my words carefully, knowing that if I start trying to be crafty it’ll all fall to pieces, and he’ll laugh at me. This man has craft in his blood, and I never, ever did. “Couple things, Iago.” And I stir cream into my coffee until it’s the color of the table wood, taking my good sweet time. “Have you thought maybe what I have to say about Glass might not leave you thinking she’s your favorite? I do think I saw her at her worst that morning, spitting at me to get out. Maybe I should be asking you how much you could stand to know.” And look him in the eye when I say it, thinking hard about the way to say what I have to tell.

Oh, yes. Yes. And think of skin flayed with words, her words, on a morning I was feeling just like this, tired and sore and wrung out from sex. “Another thing: whatever it is Verdi does in her basement, what is there to stop me going over there and asking her about it outright?” I do really want to hear what he has to say about her, for all I’m pretty sure it’s some tale about what she likes in bed and what they’ve done, something he means to throw in my face now that I’m with her and he isn’t. “You’re telling me you have something to say to me that she wouldn’t, truly?”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

He's stalling a bit and I sip my coffee as I wait for him to speak again. "...Have you thought maybe what I have to say about Glass might not leave you thinking she’s your favorite?" I consider the notion, discarding it almost immediately. "I do think I saw her at her worst that morning, spitting at me to get out. Maybe I should be asking you how much you could stand to know."

He looks as if he's quite serious and she must have nearly chewed his ear off. The notion of Milady Glass spitting her worst at Jarmyn has me grinning again. "Whatever she said, I'm certain it was fierce. Whether it's more than I can stand, remains to be seen." Chuckling, I say, "Spin your worst tale. I'm all ears."

His comments about Verdandi set me to another brief round of chuckles. Smirking, I reply, "I suppose you could but she might downplay its significance. At least with me, you'll have forewarning of what to keep an eye out for." I leave it at that and consider his last question. "Ohyes. I know quite a bit that she'd not share immediately with you, and I'm not talking about sunshine and flowers either. She's has an epic misstep or three." I quirk a brow and add, "I wasn't lying when I said you might not be able to stand it. Be certain before you agree."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Iago’s still having a fine old time of it, looks like, grinning and talking like I couldn’t possibly have anything to say about Glass that he couldn’t stand to hear and laying out that he knows something so terrible about Verdi that I’d better sit up and take notice. I don’t think two of me could manage to look as smug as he is. Well, then.

I take a drink and set my mug down slowly. “Glass had a lot to say to me that morning she came to rouse me out of her house, and I was maybe still mostly asleep, but a couple of the things she had to say about the two of you caught me. She doesn’t talk about you the way you talk about her.” Because she doesn’t know the words to, probably, but don’t say that. “Doesn’t seem to think you’re kind, for one thing, or that you still care for her or her for you, for another. But maybe I misheard. Her cant’s hard to get if you’re not used to it.” I shrug and look down at my mug, wondering if this is what starts a fight, or if he’ll hold to the trade. My heart’s pounding, more over the fact of saying it than of caring if I should have. Just can’t seem to care much, where Glass is concerned.

And as for Verdi, I can’t think of anything he might say that’d put me off going back to her. She’s never treated me like Glass has him, and I can’t see her starting. “Now, you gonna tell me what’s in the basement, Iago?” And the second trade we’ll see about once we’ve gotten through this one.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

I prepare myself to hear the worst about my love and he begins, "Glass had a lot to say to me that morning... She doesn’t talk about you the way you talk about her." Considering the circumstances, I suppose that's to be expected. I steel myself and he continues, "Doesn’t seem to think you’re kind, for one thing, or that you still care for her or her for you, for another. But maybe I misheard. Her cant’s hard to get if you’re not used to it."

She doesn't think I'm kind? Well, that's not a surprise nor a cheap shot (not from her anyway), and I mull over the second tidbit. It's obviously meant to be hurtful, a verbal knife jab I myself have used a time or two, but I have to give Milady Glass the benefit of the doubt. If she said it, it was likely a heat of the moment comment, not the end-all be-all that he's implying it might be. I'll not let him shake my faith so easily a second time.

I'm chuckling as I reply, "It's likely you misunderstood. She's quite certain that I'm not kind, or nice, or anything of the sort. As for the rest of it..." I smile, continuing in a pleasant tone, "It's intriguing but doubtful. I was glad to hear of it anyway."

"Now, you gonna tell me what’s in the basement, Iago?"

He's quite impatient and I'm even-toned as I reply, "Of course. The stills, the tanks, the greenhouse, the well, various training areas, more barrels than you can shake a stick at and the endless amount of shelving." I finish my coffee and signal the waitress for another before adding, "And rather than give a tidbit about one particular area, I'll offer advice instead. If you see white powder anywhere on the basement floor, leave immediately."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I watch him absorb what I have to say about Glass and then go back to laughing softly. Maybe I misunderstood, yeah. Certainly possible. But he’s still sleeping alone tonight. Didn’t misunderstand that much.

I didn’t expect him to be stunned and weeping over all this, not with that smiling poker face of his, but the casual dismissal is a little strange. He does answer my question about the basement straight, though, or mostly. Not sure how you can have a greenhouse in a basement, but Verdi could manage it, I think, if anyone could. And a well? Training areas? Going to have to get Verdi to take me down those stairs. Have a couple of ideas how to convince her, too.

As for that last advice, though…. Can’t think what white powder might be there, beside yeast or sugar. Tartar, maybe, from the winemaking. He clearly thinks it’s something awful, though. Poison, maybe. I sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to tell me what that is, Iago? And I seem to remember you had something else to tell me about Verdi. Who, by the way, I do trust.” And look him in the eye when I say it. “She hasn’t hurt me yet in anyway I haven’t asked for or liked.” Smile and sit back, thinking of last night, the bruises still left on my wrists and ankles, the welts over my back and ass. How I begged, with my mouth and in my head. And how she heard me. “And she listens when I pray.”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

He seems displeased that my reaction isn't dramatic and I briefly ponder the coldness of his heart. That gives me a chuckle and the understanding that fisticuffs aren't his weapon of choice. Neither are well-placed taunts. I'd say heart wounds in the form of blurted tidbits are closer to the truth. I wonder if he can take it as well as he can dish it out. I doubt it and my grin sharpens.

I impart a small bit of information about the basement and its mysterious white powder. Jarmyn sighs and I swallow another chuckle. "What do I have to do to get you to tell me what that is, Iago?"

I shake my head and reply in an amused tone, "That would cost you forfeits, Jarmyn. As it is, I'm unsatisfied with your information regarding Glass. That can't be the worst she said."

He brings up my unshared secret about Verdi herself and then goes on to tell me how much he loves her, in not so many words. When he mentions praying, I take a deep sip from my mug to hide my grin. Setting the mug down, I cheerfully say, "You must feel very lucky and who could blame you? Not many get to say they pleasured a goddess. I say you're a better choice than her last lover." I shrug and nonchalantly add, "At least you're human."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Should have known I wasn’t going to get anything from him for free. So this is what we’ve come to. “I’m terribly sorry you’re…unsatisfied.” I can’t smirk like he is, never had the face for it, but I can try. “That’s about all she had to say about you, though of course she had plenty to say about me.” I sigh. “But I can’t imagine that would interest you. Is there something else I could do for you?” And grin, because that list is much shorter than it used to be, since I promised Ri, laying aside Verdi’s wearing me out last night.

He has a few choice comments about her, who of course I feel lucky as hell to be with. Anybody in their right mind would, whether they knew she was a goddess or not. At least you’re human, he ends with, and that takes me strange, though I try not to let it show on my face. I guess, maybe another god? That’d make sense. Need to maybe ask her about that, if I can find a way to get it out. “As far as you know,” is what I say to Iago, though. And let him wonder about that. “So it wasn’t you, then? Her last?”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"I’m terribly sorry you’re...unsatisfied. That’s about all she had to say about you, though of course she had plenty to say about me. But I can’t imagine that would interest you." I shake my head, obviously not interested. I'd rather hear it from Glass anyway as watching her expression is half the fun. He grins and offers, "Is there something else I could do for you?"

I curb my first impulse before saying, "Offer me a forfeit, some dare you'll perform. I'll expect you do it at my request and you should assume that it'll occur in public." Grinning, I add, "If you can't decide on something, let me know. I'm quite happy to make a few suggestions."

I make mention of Verdi's last lover, and the subtle change on Jarmyn's face is well-worth the needling. Sometimes, it's the small things that make me happiest. He attempts to rally and says, "As far as you know. So it wasn’t you, then? Her last?"

He believes I've fucked Verdi, and I squelch a gleeful taunt. I'm amused as I say, "I know better than you and you've only just arrived on the scene. I've been Verdi's bartender since last June and she's made certain that it was eventful." I quirk an eyebrow and ask, "I wasn't her last lover but looks might be deceiving. Do you believe me to be human?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I should maybe not have offered to do something for him, because he picks that idea up and runs with it, enjoying himself way too much. I just look at him. “I’d like to keep working in this town, Iago, and not be mocked any more than I already am while I’m doing it.” No information is juicy enough that I’d risk my living over it. “Also, I did promise someone I wouldn’t sleep—or almost sleep—with anyone unless I asked her first. Anyone who isn’t Verdi, that is.” And what he’ll do with that information, I don’t know, but it seemed important to say.

“I’ll give you something about myself, if you like. If there’s something you want to know.” Stupid of me to offer that, but it’s really a small enough thing, and he does know Verdi better than I do. Well, he’s known her longer, anyway. He goes on, asking me if I think he’s human, and I shrug. “I meant I’m human as far as you know. And I think you are, yes.” Stands to reason there’d be a lot more regular people around than gods, and he hasn’t done anything to make me think he’s an exception to that rule.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"I’d like to keep working in this town, Iago, and not be mocked any more than I already am while I’m doing it." I nod, understanding his position but as there's no sympathy in my heart, I smirk. He continues, "Also, I did promise someone I wouldn’t sleep—or almost sleep—with anyone unless I asked her first. Anyone who isn’t Verdi, that is."

I hold my hands up in mock-surrender and grin, "Far be it for me to tempt you to break your romantic promises. After all, it's not like you'd do that to me." I chuckle. "Oh, wait. Too late." Another bit of laughter and I contain myself enough to consider his offer. As I ponder my options, he makes his guess about my nature.

Nodding, I say, "Yes, I'm human. You and me both it seems. As for your offer, I believe I'd rather have something else." I look him over, echoing the same lingering look I gave him when I first sized him up. A lazy grin settles on my face and I continue, "I want an apology, only one, given to whomever I want, when I ask for it. I'll not demand that it be done publicly but I will insist on the condition of it being accepted by the recipient. Agreed?"

I doctor my fresh cup of coffee with sugar and say, "That should be easy, and Verdi's worth it, isn't she?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Oh, he’s enjoying this, all of it. It makes me want to grit my teeth and glare, but I think hard about who he is and why I’m doing this, and relaxing becomes a little easier as I listen. Still…. “Iago, laughing at me won’t get you secrets or promises or apologies. Won’t even get you any more coffee.” I can’t think he’ll take me seriously about that, but when you get right down to it, nothing in the world is stopping me from standing up and walking out. And he does know that.

“Also, offering’s not tempting, and tempting’s not forcing. I didn’t step over the line you’d drawn. Not my fault you drew it in the wrong place.” And that’s just blunt, but it’s true. Hurry after it with, “I was part, I know. Wouldn’t’ve happened if you’d been alone. And if we’re talking about apologies, I did say mine to Glass, and she told me to keep it.” Said I was sorry to him, too. Can’t imagine who else he might have in mind. Maybe he just wants to hold it over me.

Goddess, I can’t sort of out the mix of what I feel about this man. Still so handsome, yeah, but laughing at me with nothing like my best interest in mind. Playing with me, is what he is, but he’s played with me before and I liked it then. Oh, I did like it. And maybe I’d like it still. But I have Verdi, and I’m holding onto that so tight. There’s also the ache of Ri in my heart, and the certain knowledge that if I do break that promise I made her, she’d never have me back. And she’d be right not to.

I look at Iago, wondering if us drinking coffee and talking and smiling is still something like friendship. It’s become some kind of game, one that I think he likes, and I want to keep playing. And for now, I guess I will.

I put my mug down. “She’s worth a hell of a lot more.” But it’s not her at stake here, just information about her, I remind myself. “All right.” And, mostly to see how he’ll take it, I spit in my palm and hold my hand out to shake his. “Done. Though you really can’t make anyone accept an apology.”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

"Iago, laughing at me won’t get you secrets or promises or apologies. Won’t even get you any more coffee."

I shake my head, grinning as I reply, "I'm not laughing at you, not as much as you'd believe. The conversation's what's amusing me. Truly, don't take offense." My grin widens. "Certainly don't stop with the coffee. It's not as though I can get a decent drink here otherwise."

"...Not my fault you drew it in the wrong place." I snort and he continues, "...Wouldn’t’ve happened if you’d been alone. And if we’re talking about apologies, I did say mine to Glass, and she told me to keep it."

I give him a curious look and say, "Perhaps she felt that you were insincere..? Whatever the case may be, I didn't say that she'd be the recipient." My grin returns and I add, "I haven't decided for certain yet who to pick."

Jarmyn looks quite serious when I mention Verdi, even going so far as to say, "She’s worth a hell of a lot more." I wonder briefly how much and he continues, "All right. Done. Though you really can’t make anyone accept an apology." He offers his hand, spit included to seal the deal.

Spitting quickly into my own palm, I take his offered hand and shake it. "You have a deal. Make your best effort to my satisfaction and we'll go from there." I rub my chin a bit and say, "So as we stand right now, you owe me an apology in exchange for information on the basement's white powder. I'd like to say I trust you to follow through beforehand but truly, I don't know you well enough to offer my portion before the action's completed. You understand, of course."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He says he’s not laughing at me, but that doesn’t stop him from snorting and grinning fit to kill over what he has me for now. I’m none too sure about this apology he wants out of me, but I’ll make a good show of it, I guess, and have done. He never said I had to mean it.

His hand is warm and wet in mine, and it strikes me that this is as close to kissing the man as I’ll ever get. I wipe my palm on my leg after he lets me go, listening to him talk about trust and telling me I’ll understand. “You still seem to like giving me orders an awful lot, Iago,” I say, sitting back with my mug. “All right then. But I seem to remember you had another story about Verdi, not terribly nice?” Let my eyebrows go up. “I’ll have that from you now, as earnest.” He’s not the only one who can lay things down.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

We shake hands and I dry my wet palm on a napkin as I explain about wanting his apology beforehand. He comments about orders and I reply pleasantly, "You seem to like taking them, Jarmyn but if it bothers you that much, you should tell me so. Otherwise..." I casually shrug, leaving the obvious unsaid.

He prompts me for a dark tale about Verdi, pressing his own point of negotiation. I rake the unruly hair from my face and begin quietly, "A few months ago, Verdi was involved with a man of barely-contained violence. She found him to be charming, unlike the rest of us, and began to fall sway under his influence." I set aside my plate and light a smoke. "One night, he took her out to play and together they prowled through the darkness looking for a victim. I'm not quite certain what happened next but by dawn, two young men were dead, and by Verdi's doing, no less."

Taking a slow drag, I exhale before saying, "She's sweetness and sunshine but that's only one side of her. Her dark streak is another. Consider yourself warned."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He shrugs over the matter of orders. I think this is something he’s all right having between us. Convenient for him, after all, being able to order me around. “Didn’t say it bothered me.” Though it’s not nearly as sweet as it was. “But would your wife not take offense?” Now that he’s taking such care over that now.

I listen to his story, ready but curious and not hiding it. And it’s…one hell of a story. So she has bad taste in men. All right. Never said she should be with me. And she killed, then, or let them be killed. But I don’t know why or how, and maybe Iago doesn’t either. Well. Not what I expected for a story.

He goes on talking, lecturing. Warning, I guess, yeah. Fine thing to do.

“Iago.” And just look at him. “Last night she held me down and hit me. I know she’s not all—I know. I do know.” Really need to get myself together enough to speak clearly. Can’t stand to see him laugh at having thrown me like this.

But still, he said all this like he knows for certain, not like he’s making it up to try to ruin what I have with Verdi. And I’m not going to let it. Still… “Was she fucking them, do you know, the ones she left dead? And…is that fellow she took up with still around?” Should I be worried, is what I mean. And if he tries to play forfeits over this now, I will walk out. This isn’t a game anymore.

Work on just breathing and thinking think over, what to ask her and how to do it. I feel too jittery from the coffee, and my stomach’s roiling. I look over at him, feeling so tired. “What do I have to owe you for a smoke?”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

He makes another verbal jab,"But would your wife not take offense?" I grin, confident as I reply, "That won't be the case but if you're uncertain, feel free to ask her anytime."

My grin fades as I share my grim tale with my eager audience. I'm generous enough to include a warning but he says, "“Last night she held me down and hit me. I know she’s not all—I know. I do know." He says he does but I have my doubts, especially if the look on his face is anything to go by. I'm a bit relieved when he has questions. "Was she fucking them, do you know, the ones she left dead? And…is that fellow she took up with still around?"

"Not that I know of. She never it mentioned either way to me." I take another drag and continue, "As for the fellow, he's still in Excolo but he and Verdi had a falling out. I've not seen him around in quite while so I'm assuming they never made up." Tapping the ash of my smoke, I say, "You might though. Last I heard, he was still residing at the Whitchapel."

Jarmyn's looking a bit green and I lean forward to get a better look. Most assuredly green. He offers to owe me for a smoke and I shake my head. I slide an unlit smoke in his direction and say, "No need. A tale like that one needs a nicotine chaser." Curious in spite of myself, I ask, "Not what you expected, eh?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I listen as he answers, telling me things that aren’t anything like comforting. Well, I guess his tale has done what he meant it to, set me on edge and worrying, hungry for any more information he has to give me. I want to hate him for it, for pushing me around inside my own head like this, turning my ideas about Verdi all over, but if this is true, even in part, then he’s done me a favor. “Bastard.” I’ve thought it and said it, and I’m not even drunk. “No, it’s not what I expected.”

I find my hand’s in my hair. Think about apologizing for calling him that, trying to smooth things, but dammit, he knew what he was doing with that story, knows all the doubting I’m doing right about now. And he is a bastard, a pretty, grinning, married bastard.

Things in my head are scattered, my hands shaking as I take the cigarette and fumble to light it. “But—she is a goddess. And being hers and praying, that means something? I just—Jesus Christ!” I put my head down in one hand. “Need something stronger than coffee.”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

He calls me a bastard and I nod once, taking it for a compliment. His reaction is another and I'm exhaling smoke, pleased with my progress. With shaky hands, he finally lights his smoke and there's a millisecond where I consider not pushing this any further. The notion's quickly squashed by the unruly imp that often steers my conscience and I bask in a few long minutes of evil delight.

Jarmyn's floundering, falling back on the faulty notion of goddess for support. "If you believe that it means something to pray and be hers, than I suppose it does. I've done praying of my own but in the end, other things meant more to me." Glass, for one. "If you don't mind the blood and violence, things might actually work out well for you." I catch his plea for something stronger than coffee and reach into my shirt pocket. Pulling out a joint, I offer it to him. "Here. Keep it." I pull out a second one and add, "I have one of my own already."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I make myself take the cigarette slowly, so it might have a chance of doing some good. Just concentrate on smoking for a little, not even looking at him. I’ll need some food pretty soon, but something about the thought of eating with this man makes me balk at it.

He talks about praying, and I just let the words wash over me, just another thing he’s saying, talking at me. “Nothing means more to me.” No way I’m going to talk about Verite to him, let him soil what might be starting between us, not when he’s having so much fun tearing at what I have with Verdi. Verdi, Verdandi, who hears me. Oh, goddess. The smoke rises like incense, maybe carrying the words to her.

I look up at him, right into those blue, blue eyes. Cold, now. Cold and happy and pitying. Think about telling him to go fuck himself, but he’d make that into something and throw it back at me. So instead I just take what he hands me, seeing it for what it is. Stronger yeah, and it’d calm me, but there’s no way I’m going to smoke it with him, or even in public. Might take it back to the ‘Boy and have it, and think.

“If I find you’re lying to me now,” I somehow manage to get out. “And you’ve just spun all this to fuck with my head, then it won’t be Verdi hunting you.” He could beat me in a fair fight, I think, but that’s never what it’d be between us. I’ve got a little reach and height on him, and less soft living. He’s had me naked, here, now, and if I find he’s lied on purpose, I will do my best before my goddess to wipe him all over the ground.

But if what he’s said is true, then it was true last night when she held me, spent and nearly in tears, and kissed the blood from my mouth as she laid me down so gently beside her. And it was true this morning, when she laughed and teased me over taking too long in the shower. And it’s true now. Oh, goddess. Verdandi, please.

Can kind of feel the tobacco working, and my voice is steady when I ask, “Anything else you feel the need to tell me, Iago?”

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

Oh, I believe I may have upset him and there's a dark satisfaction in that for me. He's just as mangled, if not more so than I was the day after our encounter and when he finally makes his promised apology, I'll have most of my petty vengeance. One last knife twist about the white powder mixed in with doubts about Verdandi and then, and only then, will it be complete. But that's for later.

Right now, he's threatening me with "If I find you’re lying to me now. And you’ve just spun all this to fuck with my head, then it won’t be Verdi hunting you."

I give him a grim chuckle and retort, "Holding out hope, are you? I'm not lying, no matter how much you might wish it." I'm likely fucking up things for Verdi but damnit, she had her own part in fucking up things for me. I have enough petty vengeance for both of them and I shrug unconcerned before finishing the last of my coffee.

He's quietly smoking and after a few minutes, he asks, "Anything else you feel the need to tell me, Iago?"

I crush out the last of my abused cig and quirk an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that enough? Should I add a tale of derring-do as well? Nothing's free, chap."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He looks faintly please over my reaction. I want very badly to hit him, to knock the smirk right of his handsome face. But not here. Not going to give him the satisfaction. “Yeah, hope,” I tell him, when he assures me he’s not lying. “That’d be it. More than you.” All he has is a shrew of a wife who may never take him back, if he’s very lucky. Wish him joy of that.

Nothing’s free, he tells me, and I’ll drink to that. I set my mug down empty and wipe my mouth like I could wipe him away, too. “Then, no. I can’t afford your price. Never could, I guess. I just—goddamn, Iago, what did I do to you? We parted friends.” Just stare at him, remembering calling him brother as we staggered back to Sentinel House. Remembering how good that night felt, and how it made everything go to hell.

[iago-excolo.livejournal.com]

I quirk an eyebrow as he says, "Yeah, hope. That’d be it. More than you." There's quite a bit left unsaid between us but he's implying enough of other things that I sneer a bit before resuming my smirk. I point out that nothing's free and he looks angry before asking in a torn voice, "..I just—goddamn, Iago, what did I do to you? We parted friends."

I sigh, unwilling to give in to sadness even as a wave of melancholy settles over me. I light another smoke, recognizing it for a stalling tactic but not caring anymore.

"It's not what you did. It's what I did. You're a reminder of how far gone I was, although, sniping at my wife isn't something I look upon fondly either." I take a drag, continuing in a quiet voice. "And whatever you may think of her, I love her, and any warts she may have as well." I note his stare and continue, "We might have been friends, you and I." I shrug and shake my head. "We may still be but whatever friendship there is will have to wait. As it stands right now, my priorities lie elsewhere."

Reflecting on my earlier words, I softly say, "And Verdandi's not bad, only misunderstood but truly, you should decide for yourself."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Have to think that what he’s saying is that he doesn’t like me because of what he did. Fine that he knows that, but it’s not my fault, and he shouldn’t blame me for it. And…sniping at his wife? “Glass and I got along just fine before all this,” I can’t help putting in. “Thought we had some things in common, but—she gave me two days notice, Iago, said she would not give me shelter under her roof. Because of what you did. Can’t bring myself to look fondly on that, either.”

Feel like she’s in the room now, little drab bird of a woman, all blotched face and staring eyes. In more than one way, it’s her between us, him and me, between us being friends or whatever else might have happened. Don’t hate her for that, because it’s him saying he loves her, but—she turned me out on my ear for what he’d done. And that’s between me and Iago. Can’t forgive that.

He ends by saying I’m not his priority. I understand that, though it hurts to be told in such a bald way. Adds something about Verdi, too, but doesn’t say he misunderstood what he told me before. “She’s mine, whatever she is.” Thought I had decided before he went and opened his mouth, but maybe it’s for the best I found out now, not later, if it is true what she did. Want more than anything in the world to run over to the Tavern and find her, whatever she’s doing, and hug her as tight as I can. Have things be like this morning. But what I need to do is some thinking away from pretty men who know her.

I get my money out to pay for the coffee, because I said I would, and push my chair back. “See you around, Iago.” And just say it plainly, no fight in me. "Got some thinking and smoking to do."