ninefox: (hat tip)
Jedao ([personal profile] ninefox) wrote2018-05-13 01:30 am
Entry tags:

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.
callmefives: (amused)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-22 05:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Fives watches, utterly enthralled for the few seconds that the General takes to stretch, and then swallows hard and considers the wisdom of getting to his own feet. He bites back a resigned sigh, adjusts himself under cover of the pillow, and then stands himself, with considerably less grace and ease under the circumstances.

"We're only about half a mile from home, here." He figures if he just keeps talking like this is normal, everything's normal, showing around the fucking Fox General is an every day activity, then maybe he can do it without spending every moment of it tenting his pants. Maybe. "We'll take the long way, though." He grins and waves jauntily to Echo as he heads for the door, and receives a disapproving look, a mouthed order not to embarrass himself, and a wave in return.
callmefives: (shadowed)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-23 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Fives' eyes go wide, he's startled and more than a little charmed by the teasing courtesy, and he absolutely can't resist the urge to turn a triumphant look back Echo's way before slipping out the door, grinning.

"Careful or I'm going to start thinking this is a date," he teases, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets and giving the General a sidelong look as he turns towards the park--and away from the apartment.
callmefives: (shadowed)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-23 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Fives actually snorts at that. "You can maybe make someone who didn't serve under you or know anyone who did believe that." The Fox General had had the reputation of being the most careful about wasting his men's lives of any of their commanding officers. Not of being timid or over careful, but being wily and cunning and not losing men needlessly when they could take their objective without massive casualties.
callmefives: (shadowed)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-23 09:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"Mhmm, if you say so." He's clearly not buying it, but look at him being a good trooper and not arguing. Yep. Totally not arguing.
callmefives: (smile)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Okay, maybe arguing just a little bit- "Is it comfortable, living in a land of delusion?" he asks, turning to walk backward a few steps ahead and grin at the General. Rex would be boxing his ears--or trying to--for lack of respect for his betters.
callmefives: (shadowed)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
Fives laughs, quick and bright, and turns to walk next to him again as they turn the corner. "I'm glad the perks are worth it. Sir."

He points across the street, to a tidy little shopfront with fresh produce in displays on the sidewalk under an awning. "That's our bodega." He sounds proud of it, which might not make any real sense, but he likes having something that normal--a little local shop where he's known, where he has credit now because they trust him. It makes him feel real in a way he hadn't for a long time when they'd gotten out.

"Their cat, Felix, always hides when any of us come in." That, he sounds a little disappointed at, and the big black and white tuxedo cat is clearly visible right now, lounging under one of the displays. "Are domestic animals afraid of you too?"
callmefives: (bad liar)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
"I wish cats weren't frightened of us," he admits wistfully, wrinkling his nose. "They look... soft, and on videos on the computer they make this really nice rumbling noise." But what can you do, when you smell like something that could snap them up in one bite and just might want to. He shrugs.

"Are foxhounds part fox? What do they do that's weird?" He doesn't know much about these things, clearly.
callmefives: (manip)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
"Why would anyone breed something to hunt you?" He sounds positively scandalized by the idea. "You wouldn't even taste good." Which is the only reason he can think of for hunting.
callmefives: (smirk)

CW: killing and eating animals, blood

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Well that's just reasonable, chickens are delicious." He remembers when they were pups, sometimes being thrown live chickens to run down and tear apart, remembers the squawks and the taste of blood and the simple joy of it.

"Men don't seem to be very good hunters." He sounds more than a little disdainful of it. "But I guess they're very good at getting others to do their hunting for them."
callmefives: (smirk)

Re: CW: killing and eating animals, blood

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
"I guess I can understand why." He gestures around them. "They don't seem to have much call for it." And neither do he and his brothers, which sometimes rankles, much as they love their newfound freedom. "What's falconry?" It's as curious as almost all his questions. The world is so big and wide and full of so many unknown things, and Fives wants to learn them all.
callmefives: (amused)

Re: CW: killing and eating animals, blood

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 07:37 am (UTC)(link)
"I suppose it's efficient?" He's wrinkling his nose again, though, disdainful of the idea of humans' inability to do their own hunting without relying on the creatures they breed and train to be their servants.

The subject does remind him of something else, something he finds fascinating about this strange city they've made their home. "Have you seen the hawks that nest on some of the skyscrapers? It's like they think these are canyons and plains to hunt in."
callmefives: (smile)

[personal profile] callmefives 2018-05-25 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
Fives hums in something like understanding. "Working together as a Pack-" He grins a little haplessly. "It's amazing. It's the best thing." It's one of the few things he misses about their life Before. There's not much call for them to work together like that, all part of a greater whole, focused on the same objecting and instinctively supporting each other.

"They're gorgeous, and I can believe that about their speed. I saw one kill a pigeon in midflight last week, it just... came out of nowhere." He turns to grin at the General, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It must be amazing to fly. Really fly, not in a chopper or a plane, but out in the air, using your own muscles, feeling the wind. I think parachuting's kind of the same." He'd loved HALO drops, feeling the wind rushing past, the breathless anticipation of that one, precise moment when you had to open your chute, because if you were early you'd be a target and if you were late you'd be a smear.

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