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It's a Sunday night at Stardust, which means the live music ended early and soft jazz is now being piped through the sound system. Jack's still technically working, he's the one making sure the sound system pipes said soft jazz, but he no longer has to lounge at the board to mix anything. Which he's told Ziv, via text.
He hasn't gone far, just to one of the tables near the back, a mug of coffee in his hands as he tips his chair back, surveying the drinkers and dancers.
Enter one (1) sleek androgyne, dressed in a cute, fitted a-line dress bedecked with astrological symbols, topped with a loose cardigan, because it's getting chilly outside! They pad softly in their ballet flats over to Jack's table, swishing lazily as though they're propelling themself by their eel-tail instead of walking. "Boo," they greet, slipping into a chair as if they've been invited (which they were.)
Jack's in all black, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to display his tattoo on his flickery, sketched in arm. Charcoal lines drift lazily around him as he upnods at the other Spring, and the scent of his mantle drifts through the air.
"I hope you can at least tolerate jazz," he says with a smile. "How've you been?"
A subtle laugh, that sort of gentle thing that sounds like bubbles coming up from underwater. Their petrichor-sweet Mantle nudges up against his, the smell of clean, cool water flowing through a city in early Spring. "I like jazz just fine. Anything I can sing to, I'm a fan of." They flag down a server and order a cherry sour -- sour mix, grenadine, and ice. "I'm... good! Been studying, settling the house. You?"
"Oh, the usual. Going out, getting seduced, going back home to tell my fiances all about it. And going to work on the other nights," he says with a grin, and sips his water.
"Okay, so, first of all, good for you, and second of all... dish, bish," Ziv answers, leaning to one side, kicking off their flats and tucking their feet up under the splay of their skirt. "And not about work."
"Oh you don't want to hear about the people who come up to me to tell me it's too hot in here, as if I have any control over the temperature?" Jack huffs in amusement. "Nah, I took Renault out dancing the other night - you been to Eons? It's just enough outside the Gayborhood that it's not always packed. And their lemonade is fucking incredible, I don't know what they do to it."
The drink they ordered comes, and Ziv lifts it for a sip, puckering their lips at the sour taste and shivering in delight. Mmm, deliciously sour. "First of all, no, I don't," they laugh, as if they're about to repeat their previous bit of verbal jousting. "Mmm, Renault, really?" They take another sip, and it's not quite so tooth-rattlingly sour now that they're ready for it. But then?
The penny drops.
"Wait. No. Wait."
"...Hm?" Jack cocks his head curiously, the charcoal lines of his silhouette shivering a little.
"So, you texted me about a confession you got, Jack," Ziv prompts, blinking their black-out eyes rapidly. It's possible to tell when they're making eye contact, because their bright-white irises swim out of the blackness, visible only then.
"Who says I only got seduced once in the past few days?" Jack grins and winks, and drains the last of his water.
Jack conceals well, that's true, but very few people get to hide things from Ziv. It's, you know. On the Joyeux skillset. The siren leans forward slowly, flutters their eyelashes, and takes a tiny sip of their drink. "Oh, certainly not me," they answer, their tone dry as a desert. Subtext: Jack, you might be fooling other people, but ain't nobody fooling me.
"Whatever conclusions you come to, I didn't tell you directly, at least..." He grimaces, and sighs. "I told him it wasn't my story to tell when he asked about you, he wanted to know if you were 'like me'. I think he likes you, or something," Jack finishes with a smirk, and catches the eye of the bartender, lifting his glass and mouthing 'you're the best' to them when they start to pour him another drink. Which, to be fair, is just water, so it doesn't really require a lot of attention.
"I appreciate that. And no, you didn't tell me directly. I'm just terribly, terribly clever. And if he asks you, you can tell him that." Ziv curls their webbed hands around their glass. "I think he likes me, yes, but he definitely likes you," they laugh softly. "So, anyway, you took him dancing at Eons... unless you'd rather talk about work... "
"For what it's worth, he wants to tell you himself." Jack reaches out for his new water as a server brings it over, blowing an oversized kiss to both them and the bartender. The server rolls their eyes with a laugh, and the bartender makes a heart with their hands before they move to take someone's order.
"So anyway, yes, I took him dancing at Eons, and he's a liar and absolutely knows how to dance. I managed to resist the urge to drag him into the bathroom, though apparently he'd have agreed if I'd tried..." A scribble drifts across Jack's cheeks.
"And we talked and I bought drinks - lemonade, I'm serious, it's fucking incredible - and then I drove us both back to his place eventually."
"I'll pretend to be surprised," they reassure him, and then they turn their gaze toward the waitstaff, laughing a little at the heart-hands. Their nose wrinkles up a bit with their laughter, that light, bubbly thing. Then they settle in and turn their full attention to Jack, sipping what's essentially a virgin cherry vodka sour and focused in on him entirely.
The scribble drifts across his cheeks, and Ziv smirks. "Well, honestly, who wouldn't?" they answer drily, gesturing toward Jack indicatively. "I'll keep the lemonade on my list next time I go there." And then the last sentence makes their eyebrows arc up, and their smile go a little more inquisitive and sly.
"Look, I took him there thinking he was a little more buttoned-up than he ended up being," Jack says, wrinkling his nose as more scribbles build on his cheeks. "I really didn't think it would be so easy to get him to take me home. Which, by the way - he lives in a fuckin' high rise downtown, the rent's probably astronomical." A beat. "Didn't think to ask what he does, to be able to afford that..." He runs a distracted hand through his hair.
"But yeah, we...talked a little, enough to clear the air about...each other, you know. His...nocturnal habits, I guess. Which was...I mean I had my suspicions, it wasn't a total shock. Thankfully."
"I mean, if you're old enough, you can probably just live on the interest," Ziv offers, adding, "I've sometimes wondered what the savings account I had as a kid would be worth today if it hadn't, you know, probably disappeared into the ether." A little wave of one hand.
"I'm not that surprised, all things considered. I kinda thought he was the sort of guy who plays buttoned-up until the minute that, you know. It's better to not be." Ziv's black eyes glitter, distant lights reflecting in deep water. "Thankfully," they agree. "It worked out okay?"
"Oh more than okay," Jack says with a grin, as scribbles dance down his neck. "There's a lotta chemistry, and...his sort just don't get tired..." He scratches his neck and sips his water. "Didn't spend the night, or anything, probably would'a but given the givens...napped a little, and left before the sun came up."
Their eyes glitter again, lights dancing in the dark water. "More than okay? Well, that's a delightful review. Why doesn't Grindr have a review section, like Yelp? For that matter, why isn't there a supernatural Grindr? Can you imagine? 'Five stars, does not tire due to nocturnal habits. Had to leave before morning, though, couldn't properly spend the night... '" Ziv grins broadly, sips their drink.
Jack accidentally inhales some water as he starts to laugh, and coughs into his glass, his silhouette flickering as his eyes stream water.
"Jesus - fuck Ziv - warn a guy," he gasps, grinning. "Should eh...actually could ask Alex if that's something she'd be up for looking into...you met her yet?"
"I am extremely witty, and you should not drink when I am speaking, basically ever," answers the Siren, lazily swirling the liquid in their glass. "There. Now you've been warned." Another sip, and they flag down their server for a second. "I have not, who is Alex?"
"When we can get all our asses together to make a pledge, she's gonna be joining our motley. She was Touched, and then bit, so...she's kinda got a foot in with us still. Fucking genius with computers, she and Mearcstapa run in similar circles. And we went to high school together. Fucking small world, honestly."
They laugh softly at that. "Sounds familiar. Someday, The Old Guard will be official. Until then, we just hang around each other a lot and I let Ros bring her pets to my secret house." Ziv's expression turns a bit wry. "I'd love to meet her. And yeah -- this word is small."
"We're all living together at this point - the other two have bedrooms on the other side of the house from Lux and Mearcstapa and I to at least try to eliminate some of the awkward - but we're all kinda doing our own thing and have lives that just...never quite overlap. Not a huge deal," he says with a shrug. "But yeah, she's good people."
They absently swing a foot underneath their chair after untucking it, picking up their new glass of cherry-sour-drink when it's delivered. "Yeahhhh I've been thinking about that, honestly. We've talked about having a house for ... well, whoever ends up being in The Old Guard, there have been some conversations with other people that I'm not quite sure about yet, but... " A little wince. "No one needs to be within earshot of Eko and I on a regular basis." Their cheeks flush briefly, scribbles of pink neon across their cheeks. "I want to meet her! She seems great, if you like her."
"One of the reasons why we got a big house." Jack flashes them a grin. "Helped that it was a shithole, made it cheap. 'S a lot less of a shithole now. I'll let her her know you wanna meet, maybe we can all hang out at the house sometime."
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