a night on the town

Jack wasn't sure they were still up Friday night.

Val said yes. The following days of silence when he gave him his number said no. When afternoon hit without so much as a text from Val about a location, Jack just took off his shirt, flopped on the couch and turned on the TV to watch HBO and wallow with at least four cans of beers. At least Ben Affleck's bad acting could comfort him in these troubled times.

Oh Val. Oh sweet, terrifying, nasty Val. Jack would never know a sky as dark as you.

Around seven, his phone rang. Jack anticipated it was probably one of those students he met during the tour inviting him to a party and he intended to decline. As soon as he saw the text, it was just an unknown number with an address.

Jack was a hundred percent sure that was Val.

Now? Later? What time did he want to meet — why didn't he specify anything else!? Jack scrambled to his room in the attic and pulled on the cleanest things available, and then running out of the house but not without spending a few minutes to properly mousse his hair.

The Strip was near Downtown. Jack was practically half jogging, silently thanking god his legs were so long, and in his distraction he almost managed to get hit by two cars. He arrived at the place and checked the sign and address. This was it.

It looked like a hole. Jack knew holes. He loved getting drunk in them, got a few jobs in them too. They were more popular back in the day. It was just...

This was where he wanted to go on a date? Really? It didn't seem like Val liked this sort of place. No, it seemed like this was a small, dark place he wanted to eat him in. The thought made Jack shiver. He pushed the door open and immediately scanned the room for Val.

He found someone near the bar that looked like Val in almost all respects, but was, apparently, a girl. Was Val a girl? Whatever she was, she was breathtaking, he'd give her that.

He walked over to her, giving a small wave. Let's see if he was going to embarrass himself. "...Val? I got your text." He couldn't stop staring at her getup. She probably noticed. Aw, hell.

It was too damn early in the night for Jack to be getting whiplash, but there it was. In between the text from an unknown sender, the shady area and Val acting all — all cute, Jack constantly had to re-orient himself. He shook his head to process what she was saying, which was nothing but cutting jabs. Yep, this was definitely Val wrapped in an extra cute package.

"I'm — I'm sorry. I came in as fast as I could. I didn't realize we were still on for the week. I didn't hear anything from you." People like Val were always a gamble, really. They either ditched you or made sure you made room for them, prepared something nice. At least Mikhainon had the common freaking decency to tell him to prepare first.

Still, Jack wasn't the type to get annoyed for too long in matters like this. He wanted to spend time with Val, so when she offered, he placed a hand on the small of her back and hummed in thought. He already had a couple beers at home, so he tilted his head to the dance floor. "All right. Let's dance."

He leaned downward so he could tell her something that wouldn't get lost in the chaos of the club, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You look incredible, by the way."

She purred into his ear, and before he could kiss her, she was gone.

Jack scowled and scratched his hair in irritation.

He knew this game. It was the 'aching would only make you want me more' game, and she was right, that was totally what was happening right now. He could feel the edges of his growing obsession crawl to the tip of his fingers like tiny spiders. He was itching for her. It was maddening.

(He loved it. Every second of it. For the first time in a while, he felt compelled to find her, dance with her, kiss her and let her ruin him, instead of the usual I just get up to pour Jack Daniel's into my coffee this morning. It was like fire igniting a small wick and burning bright.)

Jack made his way through the crowd, stepping over sticky floors and trying to navigate through bright strobes of light. He danced with people, smiled when they smiled at him, but his cover was usually thrown aside when he locked on his target.

And there she was. Now, objectively, Jack knew Val wouldn't be the most attractive person in this club — after all, Manta Carlos was filled with bodacious babes aplenty and he just passed by a girl with the best tits he'd seen. But obsession did weird things to a man. Val took center stage and the people on the background were just noise and filler that existed to highlight her radiance.

He moved up to her, wrapping a hand around her waist and leaning down closer to her. "How can we dance if you run off by yourself?" He danced beside her with no real style, just casual, easy club movements and staying to the beat.

Needy.

It was barely a twitch, but Jack cringed. You know what? He was needy. He knew it the day he met her that she could ruin him in so many ways. Attempting to justify his actions with casualty, even when she already went out of her way to bare her teeth, was just sad and pathetic, as sad and pathetic as how much he wanted her.

He leaned down to kiss her, not surprised but still frustrated at her denial, feeling his head go crazy at her barest of touches, the outline of her frame, the warm spread of her movements. She invited him to touch him at times and he took every opportunity with almost desperate enthusiasm, nose to her hair, hand to waist, hips to hips. It wasn't the alcohol, he noted with a slight distaste. The way his body worked, he was a hundred percent sure he was sober now. It was... neediness.

He was going to embrace that now, wasn't he? He'd mail her a thousand more paintings if it meant she'd give him scraps. He'd grovel if she wanted. People with dignity didn't know how this felt. He was in love with this madness.

It was difficult to re-orient himself to listen to her words again. When the world suddenly included the people around them (weird), he looked at the girl Valentine was talking about. She was pretty cute.

"Her life has been getting better again."

From problems she caused?

Jack paled. He cleared his throat. "Well. I'm... happy for her."

Jack considered the question with utmost discomfort. This thing was between the two of them. She hurt him. He took it. That was the unspoken arrangement. But people like Val loved to drag others along for the ride. His mind went back to his ex-wife and all the people Gabriel had hurt in his stupid games, which made his mind scream an immediate NO in protest.

His eyes darted back to the couple. Her life was getting better again. He was happy for her. Honest.

"What are you saying," he said in the flattest tone possible, hoping to dissuade Val from whatever the hell she was thinking of doing.