royalpassport | IC: CONTACT (THE PINES)

[ He pulls on a pair of trousers, casting Kenzi a look of some alarm when she says that, even if the reference goes over his head entirely. It's, at least, a sentiment he can relate to so fully and painfully. ]

It's the memories in your head, isn't it? Two lives that can't coexist...

[ Shrugging a shirt on, he doesn't bother tucking it in or even buttoning it all the way before he grabs a scarf and quickly drapes it around his neck to cover the scar. This'll do for now. Jefferson moves back to Kenzi, getting on his knees before the bed so that he can take her hands and look her in the eyes, his own wide and sincere. ]

You think you know which memories are real, but they're the ones that sound completely mad. [ He keeps his voice gentle, if emphatic, because this is important, to have a kindred spirit. To offer understanding and be understood in return. ] I know what it's like. Even-- before this place.

Edited 2017-05-29 14:17 (UTC)

Yeah... Yeah, that's totally it--

[She can't reconcile these thoughts. They're too different, but she still isn't sure what's real and what's fabricated because the ones that come back seem so other, so unreal. He hit the nail right on the goddamn head. Kenzi shifts closer when he kneels next to her and stares right back at him, amazed at how he just verbalized what she's been feeling for weeks.]

They can't be real, but they are? But no one's gonna believe me if I tell them everything. [Her brow furrows as she studies his face. All Jefferson's supposed instability, all his breakdowns, it's not his brain that's the problem, it's the memories. Too much lifetime to hold in his head. Dealing with it since before he came here?

She squeezes his hands, bites her lower lip.] Shit, Jefferson, I'm so sorry. I didn't ask-- I didn't even think--...

You can tell me. I swear, you can tell me everything, no judgement. We'll just... keep each other sane, I guess.

[ He shakes his head to show that the apology's unnecessary, and squeezes Kenzi's hand in return. ] We'll do just that. I'll always believe you, Kenzi. You're not insane.

[ He's giving her the words he would've liked to have heard at any point over the past 28 years, because she needs to hear them, because it isn't fair for somebody else to suffer through what he's endured. At least they aren't alone-- others in town must be going through the same. But if she's from a land with magic, thrust into a place like this, a land without... Then they're even more of kindred spirits than he ever knew. ]

We can talk once we're out of this place. Are you ready? [ He'll wait for her confirmation before putting his shoes on and guiding her out of the house, but not a moment before. ]

[That's probably the most reassuring thing she's heard all day. Kenzi nods, righting herself and throwing her arms around Jefferson's neck in a quick hug before she's ready to get the hell out of here.

She has no idea where she's gonna go after this. No idea what Rumlow's going to do or who will remain in the house. All she knows is that she doesn't want to be there. She doesn't want to be near him right now. She needs distance... and alcohol. God, she is dying for a drink right now. Vodka, tequila, anything as long as it's straight out of the bottle and strong enough to numb the pain in her chest.

She just wants to forget for a little while.

Jefferson leads the way. Kenzi clings to his hand like it's a lifeline, keeping her head down and running through the conflict again and again. It's stuck on loop, she just keeps reliving it, trying to pick out something that could have made it turn out differently. The thing is, it wasn't the fact that he didn't come clean with her... it was the fact that he was that person all along.

Eventually, she snaps out of it. She's all cried out, feeling hollow, and-- ... lost? She doesn't recognize this street or any of the houses. I mean, they all look the same in this cookie cutter suburban nightmare, but she hadn't been paying attention at all]

Whose place is this? Are we breaking in? I mean I'm a little rusty, but I could probably swing it if we take out the billion cameras hidden strategically all over the entire town.

[At least she still has her sarcasm.]

[ It's a quiet walk through a quiet night in a quiet town-- which makes it difficult, he imagines, for Kenzi not to be swallowed up in her thoughts. There isn't much he can say, though he tries to strike idle chitchat here and there. At least he settles on a destination pretty quickly: Eliot's house. It's ideal, in that it's private, there's no roommate to worry about, and Jefferson has a key.

He trusts Eliot. Maybe it's a mistake; after all, he and Kenzi trusted Brock, too, and now she's too shaken by whoever he really is to even talk about it. But... At this point, it's Eliot or Emma, and he's not sure how much the Savior remembers. So he's going to have to keep putting his trust in his fake ex. ]

Eliot's. [ With a wry little smirk, Jefferson pulls out his keys and holds one up at Kenzi. ] We won't be doing anything nearly so exciting as breaking and entering. [ And Jefferson may look a touch apologetic on that. You know, between us thieves.

Though he will have to call Weaver's once they're safely inside. Just so Eliot isn't surprised by the sudden company. He hopes, at least, that Kenzi can crash here for the night. If he has to go back to the old house, he can manage. ]

Edited 2017-05-30 17:26 (UTC)

[Oh. OH! Jefferson! That smirk-- that-- holy crap.] He gave you a key to his place?

[There is the teeniest, tiniest, smallest hint of a smile on her face. It's hidden by hair matted by tears and overshadowed by puffy, red eyes, but IT'S THERE! Jeff has a key. Eliot makes him happy. Jeff practically glows when he talks about him.

Kenzi's gonna have to make sure this guy is legit, bECAUSE MODERN MEDICINE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO HELP HIM IF HE EVEN THINKS ABOUT HURTING JEFFERSON IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM! THEY WILL NEVER FIND THE BODY AND IT WILL BE SLOW AND PAINFUL AND VERY, VERY INTENSE!]

He's gonna be cool with this? I mean-- does he know about me? [It's weird, but it's almost like Kenzi is... nervous. She's never met Eliot! And he seems important, so far. Jefferson is important to her, therefore-- Oh god, what if he doesn't like her? What if he HATES her? What if-- She takes a deep breath and lets it all out, slowly. Emotional overload today. She's overtired, paranoid. That's all it is.]

After you, Crushy McEx-liker.

[ Oh god, don't make him flush and feel as foolish as if he were a smitten young boy. Jefferson lets out a teasing and exasperated huff as he steps inside and gently hauls Kenzi in with him. ]

Come on. I'll give him a call. Try not to snoop too much.

[Hopefully Jefferson doesn't notice the utterly wicked smile that appears after he says those words. IT'S BASICALLY PERMISSION! YOU ALL HEARD IT! Try not to snoop too much as in MAKE AN ATTEMPT but you're gonna do it anyway so don't go overboard. He literally unleashed the mischief beast.

As Jeff goes for the phone, Kenzi tip toes around, taking in the little details of the house. The first thing she gravitates to is the bar. Makes sense. Bartender, likes to perfect his craft, perfectionist. OR! ... Raging alcoholic. Which, okay, not a huge concern considering herself. She'll keep an eye on that. Nice decor, though. Fits with the eccentric mental image she has of him via Jefferson's description.

Now to find the bedroom as soon as Jeff's back is turned... What can she get up to in there. Also, resisting the urge to pilfer various trinkets is going to be hard, but she wants to make a good impression! So... nothing above insurable value. Yes. Good rule, Kenzi. Thanks, Kenzi.

She slips away to start examining shelves and going through drawers. Some of the stuff this Eliot dude has is... interesting. No, like, interesting. So interesting, in fact, that she feels like she'd see this kind of shit in Trick's back room at the Dal. Mystical shit. Like... ritual... spell-type shit. Magical shit. Well then. She's starting to like, fear, and get preemptively paranoid about this guy already. Does Jeff know he's into this stuff? Does Jeff KNOW about this stuff? It would be nice to have a conversation about selkies and ogres without someone trying to get you in a straight jacket.

Speaking of straight jackets... and bondage... what's in drawer number three?

Jeff is still on the phone when she comes up behind him. Soooooo quiet. Quiet as a mouse made of air or-- something that doesn't make noise. Look, she's distracted, she can't make good mental comparisons right now! Not when she's carefully positioning the thing in her hand for maximum shock value when it makes contact with Jefferson's ear.

... It's a dildo. Surprise.]

Got you a present!

Edited 2017-06-01 17:26 (UTC)

[ Jefferson might regret his choice of words just as soon as Kenzi goes off on her own, but it's too late now because he's already dialed Weaver's. Luckily, Eliot's understanding, at least from the little bit Jefferson's willing to say over the phone. More than understanding, really, and Jefferson's practically bowled over by the feelings of gratitude practically warming him from the inside.

Just as they're about to start saying their goodbyes-- Jefferson, with a dreamy sort of smile on his lips (is it too obvious in his voice?)-- he feels something... a bit springy prod at his ear, accompanied by Kenzi's chirping voice. ]

What--

[ And he turns his head just enough that he's now face-to-face with-- a fleshy silicon tube, no-- wait, no-- That's not a tube; that's a sex toy. A phallus. Which, not typically something Jefferson would take issue with, except that it's kind of being shoved in his face by Kenzi! So Jefferson lets out an unintelligible yelp, and the last things Eliot will hear before he accidentally hangs up on him: ]

DON'T POKE MY FACE WITH A DILDO--

Edited 2017-06-01 22:17 (UTC)

[Well that's ONE way to get her to laugh!

Jefferson's reaction is everything she'd hoped it would be. He even audibly freaked into the phone, it was... perfect. So good. She feels instantly lighter and so much better already. Just being out of that house...]

What? You want me to poke you with it somewhere else?

[Here, look, she'll just set it down on the nearest table as a conversation starter for whenever Jeff's mancrush comes home. Yeah, it was too obvious. The boy is SMITTEN! Which, obviously, she approves of, but also gives her this persistent, prickly feeling in her chest. Like a finishing nail pushing its way through her heart. It really has more to do with the sense of betrayal and loss than any jealousy or spite, and that's not on Jefferson at all. Therefore! The only thing to do is drown any and all feelings with copious amounts of alcohol.]

We should be drinking. Why aren't we drinking? Did he say we could use the bar? Because I'm using the bar. If I see a bottle of red wine, I might vom or cry, so-- ... shots?

IC: CONTACT (THE PINES)

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