But she did take her sweet time to showing him a glimpse of what was buried beneath, the gems in the dirt that still gave him a small thrill to see, one of the few precious things still left to do so, because no-one was without it. He gave her a second study for a time, dropped his hand, and gave a small sigh. "It's a shame. Maybe if you had led with this, I would be interested." (Maybes and grey promises and waiting waiting waitings and all perhaps again for the nothingness.) "But it's a case of too little too late today, Creedy; let that be the lesson for today. Well, that," he gestured behind him, "and you never waste a bottle of alcohol so wantonly on anybody, even if it does make for an excellent statement. You really are such a child at heart: all anger and base impulses, little control and no direction. Our agreement has shown promise, but this is a good reminder: deep down you want nothing more than to break and shatter."
Peyton could tell herself she wasn't his, but in the end Jack saw a very different picture. She had sought him out in the first place because he knew how to control his demons, and there was no greater example than there was now, as he stepped away from the siren's call that was engaging her in yet another destructive encounter. He had control--and he always would as far as he was concerned.
"Come and find me when this," he gestured to her in general, "is the creature that greets me when I open the door, when you exert some capacity for sentience and self-control, and then we can revisit this discussion. Think. That's all you're capable of for now, and barely even that, but think of what you want, Creedy, think of where you're going now, because until you find something better than whatever the ******** I've just witnessed, you're hardly worth even the spar."
Glass crunched underfoot. He avoided the worst spots and trusted he didn't scuff his darlings too much just because one stupid b***h wasn't polite enough to provide a walking mat for him.
"Or you can mope and lose yourself in someone else. I don't give a s**t honestly." Been there, done that, lived the life of one left behind and replaced. (Lives, lived, will live.) His hand touched the doorknob and turned it. "But if I know you--and I like to think I know you well enough by now--you'll still come back to me for something. Big, small, trivial, important, there's always something with you, isn't there? So try and be presentable when you do come calling, or I'll just get very upset, and we might have a problem. Understood?"
Beejoux
