There was something to the eerie quiet of the mountain pass that Simon always found unsettling on his previous, short-lived explorations. It was not like the normal path towards Jacobstown, where a traveler could become so ensconcsed by the chill in the pines that he could imagine the road breathing with him. This was not a peaceful quiet. A kind of quiet that seemed to know a secret it wasn't willing to share. A kind that got under his skin even worse than the muted flutter of cazador wings. Simon pressed on, rifle in his grip, ears open and forward pace stilling when he registered a rustle from behind him.
He turned, ready for a fight, always ready for a fight, and Jack raised his hands. "Whoa, okay, hold on," he said, the edges of an uneasy laugh lining the words. Shoulders raised and Simon could see where his legs were ready to launch in defense even with his palms up. No matter how much time he spent sampling his own merchandise, he was still a Khan. "Just me."
Simon lowered his rifle, standing still as Jack approached. "Sneaking up one me in the camp is one thing," he said. "Sneaking up on me in the field is--"
"Stupid, I know, I got you," Jack said. He let his hands fell from their surrendering pose and took a step forward as a fresh and foreign awkwardness unfurled between the two of them. "So..." Jack said, uttering the patron word of unease.
Simon turned. "I don't want to be rude, Jack, but I've got a job to do."
"No, hey, I know," Jack said, taking his next few steps at a markedly faster pace to fall in step next to the courier. "Why do you think I'm here, man? Heard Diane's got you going to the chow shack."
Simon glanced at him before setting his eyes back on the path ahead. "Chow shack?"
"Short for 'cazador chow shack'. It ain't the catchiest name but it gets the job done." After the barest half-moment of silence he finally said, "So you and Anders, huh?"
Simon swallowed and buried the frest twist in his belly at hearing them described as such. "Yep."
"Man," Jack said. "Man. I just... For like, how long?"
It was a good question.
"Since I got him down from that cross," Simon answered.
Jack whistled long and low. "Two'a you are real good at keeping a secret."
"You have no idea," Simon muttered, scanning a cluster of trees ahead for any flash of orange.
"Prolly why Anders always seemed so..." Simon caught Jack's gesticulation in his peripheral vision. "Like he was only happy when you were there. Every other time he seemed kinda... lost. Kept actin' like he had something he wanted to get off his chest but stoppin' himself." He paused, and then, "Oh, dude, are you why he didn' grow back the mustache?"
Simon couldn't restrain a fond chuckle. "I like to think so."
"Man. Man."
Simon spared him a quick glance. "...Really? Of all things, that's the--"
"Hey, takes a lot ot separate a good man and his choice in facial hair, is all."
A few more paces in silence, listening to the wind catch in the valley, the soft rustle of branches, ears straining to separate them from the soft rustle of wings.
"Not to be rude, brother," Simon said, "but why are you following me?"
A stretch of silence wherein Simon could imagine he could hear every awkward shift of Jack's shoulders. "Y'know. Diane's not gonna help you unless you do this. And it's a... pretty impossible task, y'know. I ain't even just talking about, like, the cazadors, I mean the shack itself just looks like... like it got hit by the Big One. An' then everyone came to dump their crap there. On top of the mess."
"You don't say."
"Yeah. So like... Diane's given you this thing to do that not even you can do but maybe you could do it if you had some help?"
Simon stopped, still looking ahead, Jack skidding to his own halt next to him. "Help, huh."
"Yeah."
"That why there's three more Khan's trailing us?" Simon asked, looking at him.
Jack smiled sheepishly. "Well. Y'know. Even for two people it's pretty impossible."
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timeasmymeasure
M!Courier/? - Remain Nameless [5a/?]
Date: 2012-09-03 10:52 am (UTC)He turned, ready for a fight, always ready for a fight, and Jack raised his hands. "Whoa, okay, hold on," he said, the edges of an uneasy laugh lining the words. Shoulders raised and Simon could see where his legs were ready to launch in defense even with his palms up. No matter how much time he spent sampling his own merchandise, he was still a Khan. "Just me."
Simon lowered his rifle, standing still as Jack approached. "Sneaking up one me in the camp is one thing," he said. "Sneaking up on me in the field is--"
"Stupid, I know, I got you," Jack said. He let his hands fell from their surrendering pose and took a step forward as a fresh and foreign awkwardness unfurled between the two of them. "So..." Jack said, uttering the patron word of unease.
Simon turned. "I don't want to be rude, Jack, but I've got a job to do."
"No, hey, I know," Jack said, taking his next few steps at a markedly faster pace to fall in step next to the courier. "Why do you think I'm here, man? Heard Diane's got you going to the chow shack."
Simon glanced at him before setting his eyes back on the path ahead. "Chow shack?"
"Short for 'cazador chow shack'. It ain't the catchiest name but it gets the job done." After the barest half-moment of silence he finally said, "So you and Anders, huh?"
Simon swallowed and buried the frest twist in his belly at hearing them described as such. "Yep."
"Man," Jack said. "Man. I just... For like, how long?"
It was a good question.
"Since I got him down from that cross," Simon answered.
Jack whistled long and low. "Two'a you are real good at keeping a secret."
"You have no idea," Simon muttered, scanning a cluster of trees ahead for any flash of orange.
"Prolly why Anders always seemed so..." Simon caught Jack's gesticulation in his peripheral vision. "Like he was only happy when you were there. Every other time he seemed kinda... lost. Kept actin' like he had something he wanted to get off his chest but stoppin' himself." He paused, and then, "Oh, dude, are you why he didn' grow back the mustache?"
Simon couldn't restrain a fond chuckle. "I like to think so."
"Man. Man."
Simon spared him a quick glance. "...Really? Of all things, that's the--"
"Hey, takes a lot ot separate a good man and his choice in facial hair, is all."
A few more paces in silence, listening to the wind catch in the valley, the soft rustle of branches, ears straining to separate them from the soft rustle of wings.
"Not to be rude, brother," Simon said, "but why are you following me?"
A stretch of silence wherein Simon could imagine he could hear every awkward shift of Jack's shoulders. "Y'know. Diane's not gonna help you unless you do this. And it's a... pretty impossible task, y'know. I ain't even just talking about, like, the cazadors, I mean the shack itself just looks like... like it got hit by the Big One. An' then everyone came to dump their crap there. On top of the mess."
"You don't say."
"Yeah. So like... Diane's given you this thing to do that not even you can do but maybe you could do it if you had some help?"
Simon stopped, still looking ahead, Jack skidding to his own halt next to him. "Help, huh."
"Yeah."
"That why there's three more Khan's trailing us?" Simon asked, looking at him.
Jack smiled sheepishly. "Well. Y'know. Even for two people it's pretty impossible."