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gravedigest · 2 months

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Attempt at writing Jeb.

“How did you end up in this wretched business?”

“I dunno, how’d you become an evil wizard?”

Jebediah regards the boy for a moment, a scruffy thing puffing on a cigarette, adjusting his grip on his firearm. He’s needed to pause here and there, acting as if he’s checking his malfunctioning communication system while Jeb can clearly see the fresh blood under his jacket, the way he only just favors a stance that keeps his arm from his ribs.

“What could I have possibly done that would make me evil?” Deimos’ laid-back manner of speaking has Jeb giving the man only a slim margin of leeway to not be stung by the label. He’s vulgar, but the stream of consciousness Jeb has been listening to gives the impression that Deimos rarely stops to think about what he’s saying.

So, he can entertain it while they remain on the same side.

“You keep ganking Hank.”

Even if that side may chafe like sandpaper.

“I really don’t think that counts.”

“Nah, the evil part of that is how I gotta go be the guy that gets his giblets stuffed in a bag,” Deimos kicks off the wall he was resting against, dropping the cigarette to stomp it out. “You know how gross that is?”

What a simple line of thought.

“I can imagine.”

They only move another forty feet forward before the boy is distracted by another filing cabinet, taking every opportunity to snoop through Jeb’s old workplace.

He’s surprised by how little he feels about watching someone digging through the old secrets, only sparking the vague interest here and there when he catches his own name on a document, a little flutter of remembrance, thoughts about a different life.

“You notice how all you scientists kinda turned into freaky wizards?”

“I don’t think I follow.”

Deimos waves around a document. “This guy was in the sewers spewing glitter on everything, kept poofing around.”

Jeb takes the paper when offered, adjusting his sunglasses to see in the low light, something that makes the boy snicker obviously.

Is he getting old?

“… Ah. Him.”

“Coworker?”

“Nuisance.”

“Welp. He’s dead, I think. Smooshed by the big bad.”

Crackpot died?

…

Crackpot was alive?

… In the grand scheme of things, it seems like it hadn’t mattered one way or another.

“You look like you just read the newspaper funnies.”

Jeb sets the document on top of the file cabinet, pushing his sunglasses back into their proper position. “I’m surprised you know what those are.”

Deimos only offers a shrug, his quota for wasting time reaching the limit.

He’s a strange man, at once lackadaisical and… Jeb wouldn’t say focused, but aware of how much he can get away with.

Like in their next encounter, while Jeb falls into the habitual use of dissonance, he watches Deimos operate with honed speed and a vicious accuracy, but leaving his back open with the clear assumption that Jeb will fill in the missing spots. He’s used to cooperation, where Jeb is not.

What an odd person to be in this world.

Or, perhaps that’s what this world is creating now, individuals that forfeit self-reliance for the strength of a team- a faction.

But by the powers that be, does the boy have such a foul mouth.

Between the heckling and self-amusement is a curse, when a weapon he grabs has more kick than he expects, he pops out a swear. When Jeb flicks his fingers to turn a man into a little smear on the wall as they’d attempted to take the opening Deimos left, the boy lets off a “Fuckin’ sick!” with more enthusiasm than horror.

It’s really not Jeb’s place to dictate what others might say in the middle of a life-or-death situation, but there could be a little more class.

He would’ve at least expected some from Doc’s people.

He would assume Doc is making due with what he has, but Deimos continues to prove himself more than capable time and time again.

Just different.

It nags at the back of his mind, the thought over what happens when their goals diverge again.

It makes Doc seem more dangerous, having different in his repertoire.

He hopes their paths don’t cross for some time after this.

He doesn’t mind Deimos. Watching him operate the robutler with an air of pride at getting to show his idea. It would be a shame to have to kill someone that may have been a promising young pupil, in a different life.

… But only if he would wash his mouth out with soap.

#You know when a person has to pull their glasses down a little #And then they sort of squint their eyes and tilt their head back #In order to read something that’s close up #I think that’s how Jeb has to read stuff.#In a different universe Doc heckles Jeb like an episode of the Golden Girls #No Hofnarr #He’s upset because they keep changing the taste of Coke #Drabble

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distressedwalnut · 21 days

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