socoolbrewster | comes with a kickass phone plan

[Here comes Jerry with a beer from the bar regardless of whether or not blood should be the serving du jour. Seriously, who would drink that out in the open? No matter how slick a place like Fangtasia or its proprietor can be, Jerry Dandrige will always prefer a nice cold fucking skunk beer...when he's in public anyway. Perhaps he's just old fashioned.]

Ed.

[He greets casually, calm and completely unassuming. Jerry doesn't help himself to a seat either. He just stands there at the end of the table like a gentleman waiting for his invitation to join the kid's company or his banishment from it. Ed probably knows the latter wouldn't sit well with Jerry at all.]

Hey, man.

[Nope, not worried at all. Absolutely not, just disregard the wariness.]

Wherever, we've got the table. So...what's up?

[A table for two at least and yet since Ed doesn't make a gesture or voice some arrangement, Jerry slips in to sit on his side. Maybe this helps to effectively box the kid in.]

You tell me. It's been a while, a lot happens.

[It does. Which makes him more ill at ease, but such is life.]

Not that much. I got killed when the daleks were around, but you already knew that.

[...You can probably still smell McGee on him if you try, Jerry, but he's not volunteering the information otherwise; he's still not quite sure how he's going to try to spin that one.]

[Close quarters like this does wonders for being able to sniff out scents, detect minute facial ticks, assess body language and discomfort. He can smell them on each other, that's already saying a lot. Can Ed smell a trace of Ariadne on him? If not Ariadne then maybe the smell her hormones left, suggesting the sort of thing Ed should be playing with, breeding and food instead of fire. Too bad he let the Architect go, too many fucking friends on her side.]

I did. Who knew you'd come back in one piece.

[Jerry drags a fingertip up Evil's arm then over his shoulder to trail along a collarbone to his chest.]

Don't be careless.

[A hint of her own scent, a hint of what came after, and he might have pointed out the inherent contradiction if he didn't think Jerry was the one in control of it. Didn't have a purpose, a plan. An end game. A conversation with Jerry is like a chess match, you need to have things worked out five moves ahead, but Ed's missing half his pieces and still trying to decide on his first. Or maybe that's just how it feels, but really there's little difference.]

Just a perk of the place, I guess.

[Did it hurt? Did he feel it? Did he care? And it's foolish to want to know, to want it to be true, to want to matter to the guy, especially now that he's been playing with Ed's food (though they both know she's more than that, more foolishness on his part), but he's in him, in his blood, he's what's keeping him alive, he can't help it.

It should probably worry him, how compliant he is to his touch. How much he welcomes it, the tiny thrill it sends up his spine. Ed nods, watching Jerry, not dropping his gaze for an instant. It's dangerous territory here.]

I know. I won't; I didn't mean to, I just wasn't fast enough.

[A pause, hesitation.]

I got your message.

A perk.

[Jerry repeats because Ed's choice of words is amusing to him. He hardly thinks it's just a perk to the kid, bets he thinks it's something close to God's heavenly fucking grace or whatever it is people turn to when some unseen hand takes mercy upon them. True mercy is a fucking sham. His fingertip continues drawing small circles high over Evil's chest.]

Did you know I felt it?

[He keeps his voice low and quiet, just under his breath ghosting across the kid's ear. There's your answer, Ed, it's not like Jerry was going to keep it a secret anyway. Why hold it in when he can let it out and exploit Ed's own thirst for...what is it the kid thirsts for that brings him here despite any anxiety he might have and still sends him into the arms of a human girl. Granted, a human girl with some freakish ability over fire. Jerry taps the spot he's been drawing.]

Right here.

[A strangled sound escapes him despite his attempt to curb it, somewhere between a whimper and a growl, a puppy desperate for the affection, never mind that he's getting plenty of it elsewhere as it is and this is more a game than anything sincere. A tool. It's different. Darker, not to be trusted, but after years of going without, he soaks it in anyway.

It's nice to be needed. Or at least wanted. By people who aren't obligated to, people who just...accept.]

Really? What was it like?

[Awed, hushed.]

You don't want to know. You don't want to feel it.

[He whispers, still close, still touching him. It's not a veiled threat, or is it? Jerry is hardly the type of person to specify. Not to mention whatever feeling Ed would experience from Jerry's own demise could quite possibly last only fractions of a second before Ed's own dusting. Maybe not. Surely the likes of Charlie McGee has no desire to test the theory.]

Let's hope you never have to.

[Ed shifts fractionally closer, leans towards him though not entirely aware of the movement. He frowns, in commiseration or just at the idea, either one's likely. Maybe both.]

I think I did when you weren't here. Sort of.

It hurt like a fucking bitch.

[It ached. Like half of him was missing; not exactly the same thing.]

[The closeness doesn't go unnoticed.]

I'm not planning on doing that again.

[How's that for a trade off? Except in both cases Jerry's out to serve himself. His other hand raises to comb his fingers through Ed's short hair.]

Eat what you want, but keep your food on a short leash.

[Teeth are coming out, just his canines, and nothing long enough to expose past his lips. It's an instinctive reaction, being this close to a boy, smelling the things he can smell.]

[And now it's Ed's turn to reciprocate, or at least seek some kind of contact of his own, and he reaches over to rest a hand on his arm, fingers curling against the skin. It doesn't request anything, doesn't demand or try to push him away, only rests there, eyes now closed, lips parted as if about to ask a question, and with the sensations playing across his own skin, heightened by his own senses and Jerry's scent, mixed with the girl's, he's fairly sure he'd agree with anything he said, any request he made.

Foolish, stupid, and dangerous, sure, but also true.]

I know. I'm trying. But she makes it hard.

[Mind it's just an expression but Jerry can't control what Ed does with it or he just cares not to. Yet.]

Cut your teeth on it.

[Jerry replies, well aware of Ed's touch and not minding it at all. His skin doesn't even flinch or shiver like a horse's hide, as if this was the goal all along.]

But she burns, I can't just...

[He trails off, because the rest is obvious enough, but it's clear he wants to, and maybe it's not what Jerry meant but it's how he interprets it.]

comes with a kickass phone plan

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