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デビュー; Debut; Open
Topic Started: Aug 13 2016, 06:20 PM (1,132 Views)
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Who is this sassy lost child
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((Min-jae Parker continued from This Isn't My Home, It's Where I'm Locked Away))

In theory, Jae was going to get as far away from the room he'd woken up in as possible and find somewhere safe to patch and clean himself up. Preferably somewhere with a mirror because he must look like shit by now.

In theory. In reality, Jae got about halfway to the other side of the building before his knee decided that it was just done with this whole "walking" thing and gave out, sending him to the floor once again.

He managed to not quite face-plant in the hallway, but he was very much down for the count and had only a pained groan to give in response as his landing jarred his broken hand once again. He thought he'd heard yelling in this general direction too, and had intended to just pass that by on the way to wherever he was going, so this was fucking great. He made a cursory attempt to get up, but his kneecap definitely felt like it wasn't where it was supposed to be and he didn't want to let go of the baton, and he couldn't push himself up with his other hand.

...You know what. The floor was fine for now. At least nobody could see his face smeared with tears and makeup and blood if he was face-down on the floor. He was still bleeding, he could feel it dripping down his cheek and over the collar of his jacket.

Jesus fuck, he'd never been in a fight before, never like that. Jae had never considered himself a violent person; short-tempered, yes, he knew that. Caustic, sure. Hurtful, he had the capacity. But not violent, not a fighter in that sense. When he really stopped to think about what had happened with Alvaro, what he'd done... what might have happened if Alvaro hadn't bolted...

Jae's stomach churned and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts. Had he gone crazy that quickly? He didn't feel crazy.

He did feel fucking pathetic, laying in the floor in the middle of the hall, bleeding and sniffling and miserable.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Who is this sassy lost child
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All things considered, it was kind of comforting that Jae still had the capacity to roll his eyes at ridiculous questions. It wasn't visible, given that he was still face-down on the floor and all, and even if it was visible it probably wouldn't have helped anything, but there was something achingly familiar and normal at reacting dismissively to a question whose answer should have been glaringly obvious.

That wasn't to say that Jae disliked Vanessa, or even thought of her as generally not worth his time. He didn't know her well, but they'd attended the same parties from time to time and he'd seen her perform with her band. He always appreciated good music, even if Peyote Coyote's usual fare wasn't quite his style. He'd actually been meaning to ask where she'd gotten her kickass new tattoo done the next time they talked at some get-together; he didn't have any concrete plans to get a tattoo himself in the near future, but it was good to know where to go if he ever did have a design in mind.

She also seemed genuinely concerned, dumb question or not, so he rolled over onto his back with a groan to look at her properly rather than just flinging the baton at her and hoping she'd go away. He was a fucking mess right now, black-streaked tear trails mingling with blood from the gash on his face; he hated the thought of anyone seeing him like this, but he didn't think she'd judge too much, considering what he'd just been through. Besides, throwing the baton would essentially just be giving it to her, and Vanessa played softball. She definitely had a meaner throwing arm than he did.

Trumping all of that, though, was the simple fact that Jae didn't have the energy for another confrontation. Both his blind rage at being attacked for no reason and his "fight or flight" instincts had burned themselves out, and now all he felt was exhausted. Better to take his chances with someone who looked concerned and unarmed than to provoke another fight.

"No, Vans," he said. (Did he have permission to call her Vans? He probably didn't. Oh well.) "I'm kind of fucked up at the moment, actually."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Jae flinched instinctively as Nancy bolted over him and down the hall, only to let out a hiss of pain as he accidentally bumped his injured hand against Vanessa's arm. "Fuck..."

He didn't know why Nancy had suddenly fled, and being honest? He didn't care. He was worn out and hurting, and pondering on the enigmas of people who weren't sticking around wasn't going to fix any of that.

"Yeah," he grunted to Vanessa once he'd gotten his bearings again. "My knee's all fucked up though, so if you could give me a hand...?" With effort, he worked himself into a sitting position and held out his right arm to Vanessa, baton still in had. He kept the left one tucked close against his body again to avoid any further jostling.

Jae gave a humorless snort in response to Vanessa's second question. "Fucking Alvaro happened to me. I don't know what happened with him before I ran into him, but he's gone batshit. He tried to take my fucking eye out with a piece of wood."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Jae let out a long sigh of relief as he dropped onto the sofa in the middle of the lounge. It felt like years since he'd had the pleasure of a comfortable piece of furniture, rather than being strapped to a chair or sprawled out on the floor. Hell, the seats of the school bus would have been a welcome relief. "Thanks."

He stayed bonelessly slumped with his eyes closed for a minute or two, appreciating the simple comfort of the sofa. His hand and knee were still throbbing though and his face was still a mess, so after a while he reached for his bag with a sigh. He hesitated for a brief moment before setting the baton down on the sofa cushion so that he could unzip the bag and root around for the first-aid kit that he'd seen in there earlier.

"I know," he muttered in response to Vanessa's disbelief over Alvaro. "He looked normal up until he kicked the shit out of my knee, then... I don't know. He ran off once I started hitting back." There was a grim satisfaction there; Jae had technically won that fight, hadn't he? He'd gotten his weapon back, turned the tables on his attacker, and Alvaro had been the one to turn tail and flee. Maybe Alvaro would think twice before going crazy on someone else.

Or maybe he'd be craftier about getting the drop on them, and succeed where he'd failed with Jae.

Jae felt a chill and did his best to push that thought out of his head.

Practicality won out over vanity for once, and he decided to take care of his broken fingers before anything else. The good news, if it could be called that, was that only the little and ring finger of his left hand seemed to be actually broken. The middle knuckle, the back of his hand, and his wrist were bruised and slightly swollen, but more or less mobile. So he could still flip people off with both hands, there was that much.

Jae had actually broken that wrist before, after a disastrous skateboarding attempt in the seventh grade. Now, much like back then, there was an almost out-of-place sense of relief that he'd avoided breaking his drawing hand. He tried to remember what exactly the doctor had done for his wrist years ago, but couldn't think of much more besides them giving him a cast and sling and some painkillers. He didn't have a cast, but people usually taped up broken fingers, right?

As he set about fumbling one-handed with the roll of tape in the first-aid kit, Jae glanced back over at Vanessa. He wasn't sure he really wanted to ask her to help, and she hadn't offered, but sitting here in silence didn't suit him either. Silence rarely did.

"What about you, then? Any adventures so far?" His attempt to keep his tone light only came out strained and slightly sarcastic.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Who is this sassy lost child
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"I can have that effect on people sometimes," Jae quipped back in response to Vanessa's reasoning for Nancy bailing on them. Being tall and grumpy and dressing all in black did that for you.

He did appreciate that she was taking him seriously about Alvaro instead of opting for denial (or worse, accusing him of being the aggressor instead of the other way around). Collapsing right in front of her while he was beat to hell probably factored into that, but it was a relief all the same. He was even more pleasantly surprised when she actually did offer to help patch him up; he'd refrained from asking out of a combination of pride, lingering paranoia, and a desire to not make things awkward with the first person who didn't run off or try to maul him here.

Jae held out the roll of tape and his injured hand for Vanessa to take. "Thanks. You probably know how to deal with this kind of thing better than I do anyway, what with playing sports and all." He idly wondered if involvement in a sport would have done him any good here. Then again, even if he did play a sport, what would have been the point? He would still be on this island with his stupid classmates and a bomb around his neck, and all that effort would have gone to waste. Besides, he didn't care about sports and he'd been smoking like a chimney lately. The closest he'd ever come to being an athlete was the aforementioned skating incident and maybe that time he'd nearly killed both himself and Asha trying to lift her over his head because she wanted to demonstrate something from her ballet recital.

...God, he hoped he found some of his friends soon. If he'd already gotten this messed up, who knew what some crazy could do to any of them?
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Who is this sassy lost child
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Jae kept his teeth gritted as Vanessa pulled his hand around; as much as it hurt, she was doing a pretty good job of taping his fingers by his judgment at least, and there was no point in complaining about how someone was helping you when they could have just left you in the first place. "Thanks." Jae returned the tape to his first-aid kit when Vanessa tossed it back and set about digging for the wipes and adhesive bandages. He located some alcohol pads too and took one to clean the slash on his face.

The alcohol stung, making him hiss quietly, but it was definitely better than getting an infection down the line. Once that was taken care of, Jae tossed the used pad aside and opened the wipes to clean the rest of his face off. Vanessa talked as he did so, and he paused for a moment to consider his response. It sounded like she wasn't about to run off and leave him, which was nice. He didn't feel like being alone right now. On the other hand, there was his knee.

"I don't know exactly how bad my knee is, if it's dislocated or what. It hurts like a bitch, but I think I could walk fine if I had a brace or a crutch or something. I walked on it some to get over here before it... well, quit." There wasn't anything in the first-aid kit that would help with that, as far as he could tell, unless they tried taping his knee too. Would that work?

And right, they both had people they wanted to find. What either of them would do after that, he wasn't sure. Jae shrugged in response to Vanessa's other question and went back to cleaning the smeared blood and makeup off his face so that he could bandage up his cheek. "Plan A is mostly 'find friends, make sure they don't do anything stupid'. I haven't thought any further ahead yet. Not breaking anything else would be a good step to add in, I guess."

He dropped the used wipes on the sofa next to him and went for the butterfly bandages next. The cut Alvaro had given him was shallow, but it stretched from the bridge of his nose almost to his ear, all across his left cheek. It took more than one bandage to cover it. Not nearly as bad as his knee or his hand, but much more noticeable.

Not even an inch higher, and he'd have lost his eye, Jae remembered. He grimaced, but quickly had to smooth his expression again when the action pulled at the half-applied bandages.

Once he'd finished dressing the cut to the best of his ability, he looked back at Vanessa. He felt oddly exposed with his makeup gone and the bandages prominently drawing attention to his injury. "How do I look?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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The brace was awkward and clunky, but Jae's leg was back to performing its job of supporting his weight and not giving out without warning. He downed a couple ibuprofen and some water while Vanessa armed herself with what was left of the table she'd dismantled to make the brace, and gathered his things.

He nodded once they were both ready. "Let's go fuck some shit up, then. Or stop people from doing the same, whichever." He could certainly do worse, as far as companions went here. Vanessa was smart, helpful, and now armed, and even with him looking a beat-up piece of shit they were an imposing enough pair. They both knew to be on-guard. Anyone who tried to fuck with them now wasn't going to have an easy time of it.

"Let's go."

((Min-jae Parker and Vanessa Stone continued in Five Finger Death Punch))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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