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Fine Zinc Teeth
There was a time Jedao would have said that half a century was barely any time; less than a mortal life, not more than two generations. But the world has changed so much since he first put the Americans' uniform on. Even the uniform has changed - they don't call dance halls dance halls any more, for another thing. But the smell of the place - sweat, desire, alcohol - that much is the same.
He slinks in under a stranger's face, although he doesn't disguise his own scent when he smiles, glittering, at the bouncer: a flashed lure that Fives might not even notice or recognize, let alone pursue. It took a few months to get someone to handle all the things which apparently needed handling for his "retirement", and a few more to track down one particular squad of decommissioned weretroops, out of thousands, mostly paperless, in the busiest city this side of the Pacific. But Jedao did find them.
He dances without keeping track of the time, lets his face slowly slide back to its default arrangement, lets his spine relearn how to hold him up without being army rigid. He has several drinks - people buy them for him, which is nice; one or two of them he even dances with until they can't keep up with him any more. Fives rotates from the receiving line onto the floor as the night wears on and patrons get drunker, and he maneuvers himself into Fives' line of view, always moving, twisting, flashing glances that catch on Fives' eyes as the beat hits. Slowly, as if by the whim of the music, he draws closer.
He slinks in under a stranger's face, although he doesn't disguise his own scent when he smiles, glittering, at the bouncer: a flashed lure that Fives might not even notice or recognize, let alone pursue. It took a few months to get someone to handle all the things which apparently needed handling for his "retirement", and a few more to track down one particular squad of decommissioned weretroops, out of thousands, mostly paperless, in the busiest city this side of the Pacific. But Jedao did find them.
He dances without keeping track of the time, lets his face slowly slide back to its default arrangement, lets his spine relearn how to hold him up without being army rigid. He has several drinks - people buy them for him, which is nice; one or two of them he even dances with until they can't keep up with him any more. Fives rotates from the receiving line onto the floor as the night wears on and patrons get drunker, and he maneuvers himself into Fives' line of view, always moving, twisting, flashing glances that catch on Fives' eyes as the beat hits. Slowly, as if by the whim of the music, he draws closer.
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"But you can handle us just fine, I'm sure," he murmurs, grinning right back.
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"I can." His smile widens, and he moves a little closer to Jedao as the crowd on the dance floor shifts nearer. "I like the music and the people and the energy. And I don't mind the excuse to throw people out on their asses a few times a week either."
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"You could come by. See everyone. Sometime. If you want." He doesn't make eye contact, looks studiously out at the dance floor, doing his job, and doesn't quite make it a question either. It's just a possibility, left out there for the General if he happens to be interested.
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Although that might be a bit heart attack inducing for some of the others.
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"Nice as that would be, I think Rex might have kittens if I brought you home at three in the morning." His smile is wide as he looks back again, and then it goes just a little impish. "But if you leave me your number I can text you the address when I get off shift, and... you could come by tomorrow night? Rex and Cody will probably want to feed you, and I think almost everyone will actually be home then, or at least likely to get home at a fairly reasonable hour."
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It does provide them with a slight quandary, though.
"I could meet you somewhere in the neighborhood?"
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"Echo works at a coffee shop just a few blocks from the apartment," Fives suggests after a moment's thought once he's turned back. "It's a lot easier to find than the apartment, and it's right next to a phone store," he adds, eyebrows raised.
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"When's his shift? Not morning, I hope."
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CW: killing and eating animals, blood
Re: CW: killing and eating animals, blood
Re: CW: killing and eating animals, blood
Re: CW: killing and eating animals, blood
Re: CW: killing and eating animals, blood
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