paixaorpg | Let the Light In [Active, Open]

Jecht hadn't expected to ever feel relief to be back in the city, but since returning from the fake Spira -- he seemed to be experiencing just that. He wasn't quite aware of just how worn out he looked -- streaks of dirt across his face, chest, arms and legs. Scrapes and scratches from sone of the battles that they'd fought along the way. But none of that seemed to faze him. A hot shower would have been welcome, but... he had a stop to make before he even tried to locate such a luxury, anyway.

Really, he wasn't even sure if Meg would be there, but there was no harm in trying, at least. He walked the streets, gawked at by several civilians along the way, whom he simply waved or smiled at as he continued on. There was a tight smile on his face as he finally arrived at Seventh Heaven, and pushed the door open with a loud.

"Hellooooo? Anyone home?"

Meg's voluminous ponytail swung into view behind the bar. She stopped mid-stride to stare at Jecht. A hundred quips rose to her lips, her tongue as sharp as ever, but...it was so nice to see a familiar face. To see his face, though she couldn't even admit it to herself. The smile crept into her expression before she could stop it.

"...you always have to make an entrance, don't you," she said softly, with only a slight edge. She took in his haggard appearance and his weary smile and sighed. "You look awful. Sit down and I'll pour you a drink." Meg turned and rummaged through the various bottles -- all alcoholic, unfortunately...until she happened upon a bottle of fruit juice. Hopefully it'd still be good.

His eyes immediately caught her rising form, and he could feel the grin spread across his lips. It was selfish, to be glad that she was back here again, but he couldn't help feeling just that way. "Wouldn't catch much attention if I just crept up behind ya, would I?" though that approach also had its perks, he was sure.

Jecht approached the bar, swinging himself onto a seat, and finally staring down at himself. "Terrible? Whaddya mean? I -- " as he took a moment to examine his peripherals, he paused, and chuckled. "On second thought, looks like you're right. But man, am I parched."

A drink definitely sounded great, and he was happy she managed to find something sans booze content.

"Creep up behind me and it's your funeral," she muttered, uncorking the bottle of juice. She set about finding a clean glass for him as he spoke, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "I'm gone for two weeks and you start rolling around in the dirt," she joked, finding a glass underneath the bar and pouring juice into it.

As she pushed the glass over the bar towards him, her dry expression held a flicker of warmth.

"Hey, hey," he waved his hands, "someone had to take care of business. If you gotta get a little dirty to do it, well..." he paused, "then that's just part of the fun." He winked, catching the glass in an open palm, and lifting it to his lips.

Jecht downed the elixir in no time flat, setting it down on the bar again loudly. He did everything at a hightened volume, it seemed. "Another round, barkeep!" he called, lifting a finger in the air. "Y'know," he started, with slight hesitation, "it is good to see you back though," he stopped -- as though realizing the words that had already been spoken.

"I uh -- I mean -- " Backtracking. It was a gentleman's sport. "Back at here. At Seventh Heaven. There uh -- ain't many places people like us can go and still feel welcome."

Meg decided to busy herself with wiping down the counter for the 20th time. Anything was better than staring at him, which she was beginning to realize she did with startling frequency. At his request for more juice, she smirked and set about pouring him more...and paused at his next words, almost unable to breathe. So he missed her? Was that what he was trying to say? Dread and exhilaration coursed through her as she quietly set down the bottle.

When he began to backpedal, she repressed a sigh. But was it of relief or disappointment? Meg passed the refilled drink Jecht's way, eyebrow raised. "Still so eloquent," she remarked dryly.

"Heh," he managed a chuckle. Words never were, and never would be Jecht's strong point. And unbeknownst to Meg, that was exactly what he was trying to say. His poor word choice just didn't seem to convey it so well. Didn't these sorts of things get easier with age? He was beginning to feel like a kind again -- in all the wrong, most awkward ways.

"So," he leaned forward, cupping a hand around the glass, "you really don't remember anything? About leavin'? Where you were? ... Nothin'?"

"Not a thing," she sighed, frustrated at herself. "If you hadn't told me I was gone, I wouldn't have believed it." Meg glanced at Jecht before turning away, grabbing a fresh towel from the cupboard and wetting it down with water.

"I know it sounds weird, but I feel like I was back where I came from." She laughed, a dry, bitter sound. "Jury's still out on whether or not that's a good thing." Moving around the bar, she stepped close to Ject, damp cloth in her hand. "Hold still," she said quietly, placing the cool, clean towel on his skin.

"You'll scare my customers away like this..." She avoided looking at his face, gently wiping away the dirt and blood on his skin, careful around the wounds.

Edited 2011-01-27 19:05 (UTC)

Jecht remained surprisingly tight-lipped as she mused about being back home. There were things that always nagged at him to pry more into her home -- what it was like, but especially... what made her seem to distant whenever she talked about it. He kept himself in check though, saving it for a later time.

He drew in a sharp breath of air as towel met broken still, stiffening up, and relaxing again slowing as the stinging sensation subsided. He'd sustained injuries worse than this before, anyway. But having a pretty girl care for you when you got back? Made it more than worthwhile.

"Got stung pretty bad in the back there. Coward snuck up on me..." he explained, urging her to continue her treatment. Certainly better than any medicine a doc, or a giant moogle for that matter, could give.

Meg risked sneaking a glance at him, smiling slightly. "Yeah, yeah...enjoy it while you can." She moved behind him, gently administering to his wounds. She paused, gaze traveling over the scars on his skin. Her face hidden from his sight, a soft, vulnerable expression flitted over her face. What kind of life had he lived? She knew the sports arena could be risky -- you didn't live in ancient Greece without knowing all about the glories of physical competition. But would it really do all this to him? She swallowed, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

Ridiculous.

She slapped the cloth on to his back, shoving down any stupid notions in her head. Making quick work and being far less gentle than she had been previously, Meg finished cleaning his back and tossed the cloth on to the bar in front of him. "Thought you'd learn to watch your back by now," she said lightly, walking back behind the bar.

Better to put some distance between them. She was losing her mind.

Jecht was quite enjoying himself. A low grumble was in his throat as he basked in the moment. This was of course, short lived, as he sensation icreased in force, and then before he knew it, there was a SLAP of the cloth meeting his skin.

He came back into reality, he smirked as she retreated some, and grabbed the towel, scrubbing his hands clean. "Hey he caught me off guard. A real man picks a fight face to face. No way he would have landed that hit if he did." He was, of course, omitting the fact that a wasp, the offender in his tale of woe, was small fry considered to most fiends out there. "But anyway, had two old friends helpin' me out up there."

Weird. To think of that fraction of Spira just a few floors above.

"Who's stupid enough to follow you into certain danger?" she scoffed, placing a hand on her tilted hip. She held up a hand, smirking. "Wait, let me guess. Yuna, right? That doe-eyed princess would follow you anywhere."

Meg turned and began to put away glasses that had been drying. "She got so worked up at your 'resistance' meeting. It was cute." She glanced over her shoulder at him, gaze piercing despite the casual tone of her voice. "Looks like you have another fangirl to add to your collection."

He didn't say anything at first -- a little surprised at the sudden turn the conversation had taken. Then, ever so slowly, a small grin crept its back back across his face. "Yeah, Yuna was there," he confirmed casually, taking another sip of his drink. "But -- a fangirl? Nah. Not Yuna. She's -- " and he looked up, studying her carefully as he added the next bit, "much more than that."

She turned away quickly as he looked up, scowling. Much more? What was that supposed to mean? Meg looked down at her hands, shocked to see she was squeezing the glass tightly. Oh, gods...she was in trouble. Was she really going to start getting jealous over stupid meatheads again? No way. No how. This wasn't jealousy...

...she was just worried about Yuna. Yeah. Poor innocent Yuna wouldn't know what to do with this scruffy lump of rippling pecs and masculinity. "So, what...you're her babysitter?" Meg ventured casually, her back to him.

A smug sort of look crossed over him as she turned away sharply. He quickly turned back to his glass, bringing it back up to his lips -- just in time for her next question. As liquid met the sharp inhale he took, he immediately started choking.

He pounded his chest, twice before it cleared, "B-babysitter?" Man. He wasn't that old... "No way! Yuna can take care of herself. She's amazin'. Defeated the bane of Spira, y'know," he explained, pointing in Meg's direction before casually turning back to his beverage.

Yeah. He'd let this play out, juuuust a little while longer.

The glasses put away, Meg sauntered real casual-like back to the bar, her expression the picture of sardonic amusement...though her hands were itching to clench into fists. She leaned on the counter with her arms crossed and watched him drink.

"Looks like I was wrong about one thing. She's not the fangirl. You are."

Jecht flinched. "Heh," was all he offered. All right, not quite as planned. Regardless, her reaction to the possibility at first was priceless. He'd consider this a win for the time being. Plus, the view he was getting with her leaning over like that -- that was a definite victory.

Of course, he was well seasoned in the art of "checking one out" if you will. As he brought the edge of the glass to his lips, slowly, he let his eyes close just a little as he tilted the glass back, and his head with it. He was on the brink of are-his-eyes-closed?-yeah-i-think-so before he locked onto the merchandise. Meg had the curves of a bronzed goddess, and as he tilted the glass further back still, he drank all of it in.

He closed his eyes for real with the last gulp, and set the glass back down, re-establishing eye contact with crooked grin. "Nah. I don't think the fanboy look suite me, anyway."

Jecht leaned forward on the counter himself, mimicking her own pose as he closed the distance between the two of them. Of course, the gun show was also in full effect, as he flexed his arms just a little. Just enough to show them off, if she was paying attention.

Oh, she was paying attention. Did he really have to walk around bare-chested like that all the time? As he secretly checked her out, Meg watched his throat work as he drank, finding the muscles of his neck somehow entrancing. Was there any part of him that didn't ripple? Her smirk felt plastered on now as he set the glass down and made eye contact. Their long-ago date flashed through her mind.

"Yeah," she said softly, eyes flickering down to his arms. She wasn't stupid, she could tell he was flexing for effect, but...it didn't hurt a girl to appreciate the display, however stupidly it was put on. She lifted her gaze back to his, their faces close enough that she could see the subtle lines in his face, the craggier scars in minute detail.

"You'd have to like someone more than yourself to be a fanboy."

"Well," he continued, satisfied that she had dropped her eyes even for a second, in order to take note of his physique. Slowly, he crept one of his hands out from under the elbow, and inched his index finger towards her forearm. He traced a line along her skin, basking in the softness of it, as he caressed up and around her elbow, slowly... slowly.

"Maybe I just haven't -- found someone that makes the cut," there was a playful look in his eyes. "Yet."

It would be so easy to give in to temptation. That stupid, smug look curving his lips was driving her crazy. He was dumber than a sack of hair sometimes, but every now and again, it was like he could see right through her. As they leaned toward each other on the counter, her eyes dropped to his lips, her eyes half-lidded. Gods, she wanted to kiss him again. It felt like a lifetime ago.

His touch seemed to cut through her like a knife. As if cold water had been dumped on her, Meg stepped back, sucking air in. "Yeah, well. Someone suitably perky should work. All smiles and no brains." She turned away quickly, one hand clasping down on the forearm he'd touched.

As she backed away, Jecht covered any hint of disappointment that might have shone through, choosing now to lean the side of his cheek against an upright hand. The chase was half the fun, they say. "A bubble head?" he chuckled, "Come on. You and I both know that type's only good for one thing -- " he paused, hoping the suspense would build before he added in, " -- boostin' my ticket sales." He flashed another grin, as he rose from the seat and stretched.

"Hey, you got a shower in this joint?"

A what now? She blinked, trying to focus on his words again. Come on, girl, keep it together... She couldn't let him know how relieved she was of his dismissal of the "bubble heads."

Meg turned around, hips swaying. "Thought you'd never ask," she replied coolly, lips twitched upwards in a crooked smirk. "In back." She turned, leading the way through the kitchen, the supply room and into a small living area. A very small living area. There was enough room for a single bed, a desk and a chair. There was an open doorway without a door on one wall, leading to a bathroom the size of a closet.

"Probably not something a celebrity like you is used to, but smelly beggars can't be choosers."

Edited 2011-02-18 19:40 (UTC)

As she turned about face, his eyes dropped immediately to those hips, that rear... Hey, with a figure like that, he couldn't be blamed, right? The odds were clearly against him keeping his composure. He followed closely behind her, behaving now that he'd had a little sneak peek -- into the back room.

"Hey, this ain't so bad," Jecht commented, coming out from behind her, sliding an arm around her waist just for a second as he passed around her from behind to in front.

He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, nodding in approval. "You got someone staying here? 'Cause I mean, if the space is just goin' to waste're something... then -- y'know, that'd be a shame." He winked.

Her shoulders hunched up involuntarily as she felt his arm around her, more than prepared to either punch him below the belt or possibly return the favor, but he was gone, saving her from the decision.

Meg folded her arms, giving him a look that signified she knew exactly what he was getting at. "Yeah, I've got someone here. Me." She smirked, flicking her gaze down his chest with a raised eyebrow. "So are you gonna stand around caked in dirt all day or what?"

She had grabbed a towel and now tossed it at him, turning around to head back out to the bar.

Edited 2011-02-19 00:10 (UTC)

"W-Well what I meant was -- " but before he could even attempt to re-stumble over his words, he was met with a towel to the face. He let it fall down into his hands. "I mean, what I was sayin' is -- " he raised his voice, so that she could hear it despite walking away... "Y'KNOW, IF YOU HAD SOME EXTRA ROOM'RE SOMETHING..."

Jecht turned around, facing the small bathroom. Raising the volume yet again to compensate, "I JUST KNOW A GUY WHO'D APPRECIATE IT," he paused, and sighed. Not knowing if he was more disappointed her lack of enthusiasm in giving him a room -- or the fact that she'd handed him a towel before he could even 'accidentally forget it' before jumping into the shower.

He unfastened the armour around his shoulders with a grunt. Cockblocked again.

She couldn't help the smirk that curved her lips as his raised voice echoed out behind her as she made her way back to the front. He was a muscle-bound idiot but at least he didn't play games. Well, no, he did, but she could see them coming. Oddly enough, it was...endearing. She should have been put off by his continued attempts. Instead, she was charmed.

As Jecht showered, Meg leaned against the wall in the bar, the storage room a satisfying buffer between herself and all nude glory of the blitzball king. She really needed to get a door on that bathroom.

Cranking the tap to capacity, he made sure it was nice and steamy before he stepped under the stream. The hot water tapping against his skin was therapeutic, digging in and around the various aches and pains he'd developped from the excursion.

Jecht just stood with the water beating down on him for a few moments, leaving his hands up against the shower wall. That small rub down in the bar there certainly hadn't hurt, either, he thought, and then immediately rose his face for the stream to hit him dead on.

He needed to cool it. In Paixao, if he didn't keep his head on right, people were going to get hurt. But damn... it certainly wasn't bad to have a distraction once in awhile.

The superstar certainly deny that he felt good. In fact, he was starting to feel pretty great. He started out with a low whistle as he combed through the mats of his hair, curving his back slightly as he reached upwards. The whistle soon evolved to a hum however as time wore on... until finally a low, off-key voice crept in, "No way I'm disco dancing~♪"

As the sound of running water drifted from the back room, Meg busied herself with finding what she needed. Bent over a trunk in the storage room (studiously thanking the closed door to the living area), she pulled out a musty but serviceable pillow, a down comforter that had seen better days and woolen blanket whose scratch had thankfully faded with age. She held up the pillow and smiled at her own stupidity. Was she really going through with this? But what did she have to lose? Hades was gone. Maybe...she was finally free.

She froze as the first off-key stanzas coming from the bathroom wobbled into the storage room. As the song continued, Jecht clearly oblivious to how badly he sounded, she clapped her hands over her mouth and shook with silent laughter. Was this guy for real?

Of course, the blitz king's version of his concert was slightly skewed from normal perception. He was starting to feel damn good. "Yea, you know what I mean~" he added a few hip thrusts in every now and then, enjoying a few moments of victory from the trails he'd just conquered.

He'd confronted the scene in the memories of Spira, stood his ground, and lived to tell about it. Of course... Braska was still no where to be found, and the reality of the situation was beginning to finally sink in. He cursed himself, for not having been able to save him. Not once -- but twice now.

Another sin to atone for.

Sin.

Create Sin anew.

Jecht scrubbed his face once more vigorously, shutting off the valves, and stepping out of the shower without any regard to the possibility that he should even consider modesty -- and reached for the towel. He ran it through the mess that was his hair first, then gave himself the once over -- finally stepping into his shorts.

He sat down on the bed, breathing in, and closing his eyes for a minute, realizing how good it suddenly felt to keep them closed. He made a single effort to open them wider, then gave up with another exhale, truly believing he was only going to rest for a minute.

Slowly, his body tipped over to the side... head hitting the foot of the bed instead of pillow side, as his breathing became deeper and deeper...

A few minutes passed and Meg opened the door to the room, stepping in on quiet feet. She carried the linens and pillows she'd scrounged for in her hands, stopping in the middle of the room to stare at Jecht on the bed. Well, this wasn't as planned.

She sighed, arranging the blankets and pillows on the floor. Eventually she'd have to wake him up and lay down the law -- specifically, not sleeping in her bed -- but there didn't seem to be any harm in letting him rest. When she was done, she perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at Jecht's sleeping face.

A surge of protectiveness rose up within her. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed his wild jet-colored hair from his forehead with a tender touch. Stupid, she thought, though if she was addressing herself or him, it was hard to tell. Swallowing dryly, she pushed herself off the bed and walked briskly to the front room, closing the door behind her.

Let the Light In [Active, Open]

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jecht insisted on the lengthy check out sesh.

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THIS THREAD NOW COMES WITH A SHOWER SCENE.

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