Ashes and ashes

"No, no, much worse than a rebound, in your case," Val decided, in a dry tone. He clenched his hands, and resisted the urge to swat Jack, or scratch him with his nails. He settled for letting them drift across the man's cheek instead, and thought about how easy it would be to just claw them into something vital... "Aren't you just precious, offering yourself up on a silver platter like this. Do you have some sort of fetish for bad life choices, luv?" He couldn't help but sneer.

"At least you're self aware," he finally decided, before moving on. "Dinner, huh? And what do I get out of it?" Seeing something like that means being even sicker for the few days after, even if I wasn't testing how much I could push this guy's limits.

Does he really have a thing for this, gratification through negativity? Masochism. How quaint. Or maybe, just maybe, he recognizes my attention as something to enjoy whenever you can get it.

Val wasn't sure exactly where Jack saw this ending, but he wasn't going to disappoint.

He does want to die, a helpful voice reminded.

So did Val, or, at least had at one point. Tough luck.

It wasn't like Val had gotten everything of Jack's nature from just that one trip, but he'd gotten something, and that was enough. He knew that, at least in one rather deep area, they weren't so different.

Val was just getting started, in all reality, and nowhere near his worst. Well. He tried not to put a limit on what his worst could be. Challenging yourself to surpass previous records in your life was known as being healthy, wasn't it?

Jack's all too enthusiastic offers, like he was so self-assured that Val couldn't really get to him- not enough to leave things shaken and unchangeable- were making him sick, so Val needed all the healthy he could get. Val didn't break things just so they could get back up again and ask for more, no matter how 'sad' it was. He could feel an irritated burning settling in his stomach- either of determination, or literal nausea. Probably both. But Val didn't play nice, and between how Jack was acting and what Val had pulled from him before, he seemed to think there was something worse. That this was the lesser evil.

It was insulting. Val wanted to change Jack's mind on that, leave a mark, make him realize it wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth it. He wanted him to regret and agonize over everything he'd ever done- to only be able to speak Val's name quietly, and with a very bad taste in his throat. To recognize that Val was anything but the lesser evil, in any given situation. Val just didn't let things like this slide, and that was one of the most dangerous things about him. Crowthers... Crowthers do it right, wasn't that one of the catch phrases? If his family name somehow gave him more strength in the stubbornness and quality department, he'd take it.

Valentine Crowther was not a gift, he was a curse. He'd learned that early on, and made it his own.

Val smiled softly, though one could see the gears turning in his head behind his cold, clear eyes. "Do you like dancing, by any chance, Jack? What about a night out on the town?" he purred, something heavy hanging behind his light tone.

"Friday. Why not." Val took the number and slipped it into a pocket. He wasn't going to use it until he had to, the day before or of the little date. Didn't want to give Jack the chance to pester him before he had to. Wanted to have some anticipation, not constant contact, not texting lovey dovey things until they mutually fell asleep. Val didn't like doing things, in general, through areas other than in person contact.

Val said nothing of these musings to Jack- if he at any point thought Val wasn't going to show for their date at all because of that, it'd be a bonus.

That was probably too much to hope for, though. Jack seemed very prepared to play the clingy lover. That was fine- Val was already starting to plan things to try for their night together. He was going to get Jack shaken, one way or another, by the end of it... and then leave him reeling in the dirt. Val didn't doubt he'd come back for more, but this was the first step, and the new entertainment needed to get a taste of what was to come. As well as a solid encounter to keep building upon.

Val barely looked at Jack after receiving the number and sorting through his own thoughts. The torn off bit of napkin almost felt like it was buzzing in his pocket, a sort of proof of what he'd accomplished as well as a promise for the future. Val's face and the way he held himself was reverting back to how it had been when he'd first approached this man's sad little setup. He smiled in a neat, impersonal fashion, and collected himself so he could stand up from his stolen seat.

"It was nice meeting you, Jack. I hope I won't be too sick to do so again, when the time comes around, but I'll let you know when I find that out."