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]

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."