Away from the immediate hustle and bustle of the University of New Mexico, this area of Lomas seems to be average for Albuquerque. There's a fair mix between residential and commercial structures, but most of the buildings are low and sturdy. Sporting a combination of Spanish and native Pueblo architecture, most structures have the typical red roof tiles and dusty adobe-style walls which are a reminder of the natural environment in this area of the city.
During the day, there is a fair amount of foot traffic through this area, especially through the Lomas Shopping Center, which contains a variety of shops, restaurants, and other businesses. In the evening, things slow down a bit, although local dining establishments continue to see an influx of customers well into the night.
Tall, dark, and handsome are nearly all words that accurately describe Jai -- two out of three's not bad, right? He's about six foot tall, and skinny enough to give the vague impression that he could've started out as a rather shorter guy and been vigorously stretched. He's got pitch black hair cut in short tousled spikes, vaguely caramel-coloured skin, and eyes dark enough that one can't easily see a difference between pupil and iris, which covers the tall and dark portions pretty effectively. Handsome, though, is something of an overstatement; he's not unattractive, but his head has the same long thin proportions as his body, with a prominent nose, thick dark brows, and sizable ears that stick out conspicuously on either side of his head. Still, his face is alert and expressive, and more often than not his healthy white teeth are shown off in a wide grin.
He tends to straight-legged jeans, high-top converse, and an open-collared button-down under a light sweater, nearly always with a well-loved old black trenchcoat worn over top. He has no visible piercings or tattoos, but he does wear a bit of silver jewelry -- rings on his right index and middle fingers, and a watch and a bracelet on his right wrist.
Long and lean are the two best words for describing Damian, over six feet tall and all sorts of twiggy skinny. He isn't scrawny though, wiry is more like it; he gets his exercise. His skin is tan, a little paler under his shirtsleeves, but naturally of a darker hue; a touch of kink to his short, dreadlocked hair and a bit of width to his lips and nostrils pointing towards some African in his American. His eyes are darker brown and his dreads a sandy brownish that matches the goatee on his chin and the short hair along his jaw line. He has some old 'street-kid meets tribal' wannabe tattoo work across his right cheekbone, hand done swirly art in slightly faded blue ink. As far as looks goes, he's only average on the scale of hot or not, nothing to look twice at or write home about.
He likes some color to his worn and slightly road-dirty clothing, wearing a burnt orange tee shirt under a brownish yellow long sleeve button up. Depending on the weather, he has cargo shorts or similar pants held onto his skinny hips with a leather belt. Worn out boots on his feet, sunglasses on his head and a couple earrings in one ear complete the ensemble.
Damian carries around a hiking backpack stuffed with stuff and with a tightly packed bedroll strapped to it. There's a worn out hoodie wrapped around a strap for easy use, and a wood and hide hippy drum clipped onto his pack as well. He carries around a neatly potted little bush that may or may not be flowering, depending on the season.
On the tall side of average, this man's build is strong and lean, with muscles that tend towards wiry rather than bulky. His dark hair is longish, but not long enough to pull back into a tail, and its nature seems to be wavy and seditious. The man's clear, smooth skin is a pale olive hue, the sort that darkens bronze in the sun, and his eyes are an ambiguous brown-gray-blue-green color that looks like a new kind of boring in every type of light. He has a long, straight nose and high cheekbones, and seems to be wandering though his early twenties. A glint of silver at one eyebrow draws attention to a piercing there, and he wears a ring on the index finger of his right hand. He's also wearing several necklaces with various types of pendants, collectively beginning to look a bit hippieish.
He's wearing a faded t-shirt which proudly proclaims its owner's attendance at a 1995-96 Van Halen world tour, and jeans which have suffered rips and tears from crisis or fashion (possibly both). On his feet are grubby black Converse low-tops, and the ensemble is completed by an ebony-colored leather jacket.
It's a girl. Or a guy. It's kinda hard to tell. The figure stands at maybe just over 5' but is usually slouched so could be taller and is wearing a baggy, long-sleeved shirt with "I logged off for this?" written across it and a pair of ragged jeans that end in frayed hems. Scruffy, mud-splattered trainers peek out underneath. They may have been white once but now spend their life as an indeterminate grey.
He or she also wears a stripey knitted hat with ear flaps, pulled down low. The muted pink and grey on the hat were probably red and black once and through time or washing have reached their current state. The hair under the hat is long and straggly, of a shade somewhere between black and brown. The face that is partly covered by the hair is unremarkable - a slightly too-long nose, washed out brown eyes with dark shadows beneath and thin lips.If you get close, there is a slight scent of vanilla about this person.
When speaking, it sounds like this person has a 200 a day habit plus eats razor blades for breakfast. Also has a Liverpool accent, for those who can recognise such.
Current VR Time - Tue Jan 01 07:46:54 2008 - Morning - Light - Waning Half Moon
The Sprint Piece of Crap Phone rings.
"Oh, god, I could never make fun of the stars," Joel admits to Damian, and he's looking up at the sky. They're standing in front of the apothecary shop, Damian is probably huddled in a blanket. "They're the only thing that gets me through the night. Poor Nathan... oh, what the fuck."
Joel answers his Sprint Piece of Crap Phone
To the phone, Joel says "Hello?".
To the phone, Joel says "Yes...".
To the phone, Joel says "What the fuck? You work at Radcliffe? Really? Roshanara with the camera? Jesus this world is so fucking small I can reach the edges of it." Pause. "What'd I forget?".
To the phone, Joel pauses for a long time. "Oh, tell me you are fucking kidding me."
Damian is in a whipped huddle under a pair of blankets that are wrapped tightly around him. His lip is split and his nose was very recently broken and reset, he still has fresh bruising and swelling as well as still fresh scabbing in small spots. At Joel's words he huddles again and falls silent, looking a little lost. People are unhappy and for once he's having a difficulty in fixing it. This? Is not right. Not right at all! He politely stands by while Joel talks, going no where and saying nothing. His plant is not in evidence, and his pack is behind him leaned against the store.
To the phone, Joel says "Jesus fucking christ. I can't even deal with my life right now. What's left of it?".
Damian is in a whipped huddle under a pair of blankets that are wrapped tightly around him. His lip is split and his nose was very recently broken and reset, he still has fresh bruising and swelling as well as still fresh scabbing in small spots. At Joel's words he huddles again and falls silent, looking a little lost. People are unhappy and for once he's having a difficulty in fixing it. This? Is not right. Not right at all! He politely stands by while Joel talks, going no where and saying nothing. His plant is not in evidence, and his pack is behind him leaned against the store.
Whatever Joel is talking on the phone about, seems to be leaving him in abject misery.
A cab pulls up, Jai emerging from the driver's seat and looking around with a furrowed brow as he moves to the sidewalk. He scans the signs of the buildings, looks faintly annoyed, and then brightens as he notes the people by the shop, heading toward them.
To the phone, Joel says "Fucking... no, don't go on. Is it like in a bag or something?".
Tum de tum. There's a small, scruffy figure with a low-pulled hat walking along the sidewalk from the east. Trace has her hands in her pockets and her shoulders hunched over. As she approaches Joel and Damian she keeps her gaze on the ground.
To the phone, Joel says "Fuck my life. Don't tell Patricia, I don't think she approves of shit antics involving my wallet. Just... leave it at work, I'll get it later. It can't possibly get worse.".
Hanging out next to a dude talking on his phone is. Well. Boring. Damian has cures for these ailments though, bordom is his bane and he shall smite it with the power or what the fuck are you on. His head begins to bob to music only can hear, something fuck off awesome and rhythmic that he can start busting a little groove to. If dancing alone to imaginary music on a frozen sidewalk in the middle of the night is wrong, Damian don't wanna be right.
To the phone, Joel says "Don't touch it, you might like... cholera. Or the bloody flux.".
<OOC> Damian taps his inner Jay to Joel's Not So Silent Bob
To the phone, Joel says "Yeah... yeah, I will. Fuck this shit. God, and why does it have to be literal shit... thanks Rosh. Sorry you had to deal with it.".
Jai slows down a little as he nears the pair and gets close enough to catch the general aura of Not Happy emanating from them both. The moment when he could've turned around or walked on passes, though, and he doesn't take it, stopping in chat range, and tilting his head to watch Damian groove for a couple seconds. "...hey," he greets then, directing it to the dreadlocked guy. "...uh, you okay?" A vague gesture toward his own nose to clarify the question, and then a sudden turn of his head to Joel, presumably at something in that conversation.
To the phone, Joel says "Yeah... well, thanks anyway. I guess I don't have to worry about anyone stealing it.".
There's a dancing Damian! Trace stops and shuffles a bit, trying to get around him without really being noticed. Apparently she /was/ going to walk on past. Then she pauses and looks towards Joel, stopping in her tracks.
To the phone, Joel says "I'll buy you coffee sometime if you ever get an appetite back. I might buy you a car if you find out who did it.".
"I'm lovely, thank you so much for asking!" Damian tells the newly discovered Jai, still busting his funky one. He must dance randomly by himself a lot, he's actually pretty good at grooving. "I think something terrible happened." he opines out loud just because he can. "Unless I miss my guess, his wallet came to life and pooped on his work building, and it's giving everyone bad collars."
Joel is still looking like misery congealed itself in a Joel-shaped lump and decided to talk on the phone. He leans back against the building, and slides down until his back is against the wall, knees drawn toward his chest.
To the phone, Joel says "Yeah..." He sounds like he might kill her if he doesn't kill himself first! "Thanks, Rosh. You too.".
Joel hangs up the Sprint Piece of Crap Phone.
"Fuck my life all to hell," Joel announces, to all present.
Trace is Carefully Ignoring Damian. And Jai too, by extension. It's probably nothing personal for the latter, though. She shuffles sideways and turns around to face the road, dropping down bonelessly to sit next to Joel without comment.
"Someone at work dropped my wallet in a toilet and shat on it," Joel says miserably to Trace. "I'll pay you fifty bucks if you go pick it up from Roshanara sometime." He looks up and seems to belatedly notice someone new is here. "That your cab?" he wonders, at Jai.
Damian's random dancing ends abruptly when Joel's voice no longer sounds like it's being directed into the phone, and he abandons all thoughts of new friends on old streets in favor of going to the poor, downtrodden pizza guy, "So what happened? Wallet golem?" he asks while hunkering down to sit on his heels in his blankie wrap. Trace! "Oh, hello there, beautiful." he says, entirely NOT ignoring her. "Oh, I'm so *sorry*, Joel! I hope you didn't have anything too important in there!"
"Shit, I hate it when that happens," Jai says to Damian's suggestion, "Especially since I don't have a work building." He grins, though the expression fades when he looks at Joel. "...how close is his guess? And was that Roshanara? Oh, where are my manners, hi, I'm a nosy bastard." He offers a hand toward Joel for shaking, if desired, and then to Damian, whether either of them accept or not. "Also known as Jai." Trace gets an interested look once she joins the group, and then an offered hand as well. "...dude, someone at your work sucks. Yeah, that's my cab, isn't she a beauty?"
"Okay," Trace says to Joel's question. "I'll even clean it for you." Apparently she doesn't care about toilet wallets, for some reason. Jai's hand is eyed for a moment before shaken by a cold, slightly gunky paw. There's probably something left behind on it. "Hi. Trace." Damian is Still Ignored. Pointedly. She actually shuffles a bit to put her back towards him and she looks towards Joel. "Where am I going to pick it up?"
Congratulations Trace, as not only the one millionth customer, you're also the first person to make Damian take on an expression of real, honest, confused hurt. Swallowing quietly, he shakes Jai's hand and mumbles something unintelligible that might have been 'hi I'm a damn man' or something like that.
Jai pulls his hand back from Trace's with a faintly confused expression, brow furrowed again as he turns it over to look at both sides and the... something... that wasn't there when he reached out. For a moment he just holds it slightly away from himself, as one does with unpleasant objects, and then apparently can't help himself, bringing it up nearer his face for closer inspection. From his expression and the speed with which it moves away again, he probably really wishes he hadn't. His clean hand searches awkwardly inside the same side of his coat for a few moments before coming out with some kleenex and a tiny, half-used bottle of purell. But, you know. Casual. Sort of. So as not to be rude.
Beedley-beep! It's Trace's phone, apparently. She slides it out of her pocket and glances at it, then sighs. She pushes up onto her feet. Damian's expression reaches her field of vision and apparently it makes her feel bad or something, because she shakes her finger at him and says. "You.... you... I'll talk to you later!" Jai gets a look and a slightly smirk. Then a little wave. She's noticed but doesn't seem offended. The small hatted figure tromps off.
Damian claims to have moved away a bit out of hurt to leave Trace to talk to Joel, which we'll just like, assume's happening in the background so no one thinks they're just abandoning Weepy McDepressalot in a life sobbing heap against the wall. Hurt or not, Damian is a radiant well of cheer even when he's been dampened in such a way, huddled under his blanket for warmth and simply waiting for Joel's company to return to him again, a little bit of quiet but epic sitting around music coming from him.
"So, I didn't quite catch your name, sorry," Jai says to Damian, settling in against the wall beside him and rummaging in a coat pocket for, it turns out, cigarettes and a lighter, which he gestures to Damian with slightly, asking, "You mind?"
Damian holds up a hand in a silent but wordy reply, 'no thanks but go ahead'. "Oh, sorry." Damian says, weak sunbeams shining through his inner clouds, "I'm Damian. I didn't mean to be rude, sir."
Jai lights up, and exhales the first drag with a decidedly happier sound to it. "If you call me sir, I'm gonna call you sir. Consider yourself warned," he says, giving Damian a grin. "Seriously, are you okay? I mean, not the," another gesture toward his face, "but," a gesture vaguely toward Trace.
"Sorry, Jai.." Damian says, looking in the direction indicated and making a hesitant shrug of his blanketed shoulders, "I.. don't know. I must have made her upset somehow, but we don't see each other much so I could hardly see how... She was mad at me for getting this done, but it's not as though I'd hit *her*." he gestures to his face for 'this'.
Jai tilts his head a little, an inquisitive sort of movement. "So... she's pissed 'cause of who you hit, or 'cause you hit someone in general, or 'cause you got yourself hit? Who'd you hit, anyway? And do you hit people a lot, 'cause if so maybe I should move back some." Which sounds like it's meant to be a joke, at least mostly.
"Oh! Oh no, no I wouldn't hit anyone!" Damian says quickly, and that just reeks of truth. Shit, he might not hit someone even if his life was in danger! "I just got hit, is all. Not like it should matter, she wasn't even there. Ah.. well.. I guess she'll yell at me about it later."
"Me neither. Partly 'cause let's face it, I'd lose, but mostly I'm just not a hitting kind of guy," Jai says. "So... then she's probably pissed 'cause you got hit, I guess? How'd you end up getting that," face indication, "anyway?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, if that's alright." Damian says apologetically for not gossiping about his idiocy with Jai, "It's a bit personal."
"...huh. 'kay," Jai says, though to be honest, he only sounds more intrigued, rather than resigned. He sits quietly smoking for a few seconds, looking thoughtful. "Oh, hey. Happy new year."
"Happy new year to you as well." Damian says with a smile, careful of his split lip, "I'd offer to kiss you, but I already did that once tonight and it hurt a little bit. Do you have any aspirin?" he asks while digging in a pocket hidden by his blanket for a sammich baggy with some gross looking ointment in it that he smears a little of onto his fingers so that he can wipe it onto his wounded parts.
Jai laughs, and also blushes faintly at that. "Yeah, I was carrying a couple of really drunk fratboys and sorority chicks when midnight hit, and somehow I didn't think it'd go well kissing any of them. ...here, hold on." He pushes up and heads back to his cab, returning after a minute or so with a small tackle box labeled "First Aid Kit" in pen. Sitting down beside Damian, he opens the thing, revealing a lot of neatly arranged basic gear, including a bottle of ibuprofen. "This do?" he asks, offering it over. "I've got neosporin and other stuff too."
"Yes, thank you so much." Damian says, and accepts the painkillers, "Oh no, the folk that operate this shop were kind enough to settle me with some medicine so that I wont take sick from infection." He gestures to the store behind him and with his fingers that are shiny from the stuff he put on his face. Wiping fingers off, he pops the top off the bottle, then pauses and asks, "How many do I take?"
"Two," Jai says, "Usually, anyway. If it doesn't work you can do three. They didn't give you any painkillers or anything?" He considers a second, and then closes the kit. "Keep 'em. You don't need, like... gauze for your nostrils or something, do you?"
Damian hesitates a moment, and decides to take three, "Are you sure? I don't want to take so much from your box, you may need it for people." He shakes his head a little, carefully of course, and pops the pills into his mouth to chew and dry swallow with just a little yuck face. "No, I didn't want any at the time. Thank you, very much."
Jai nods. "Yeah, I'm sure, I was gonna hit a store this morning anyway, I'll just snag some more. ...sorry I don't have anything you can drink it with, I was actually looking for some decent coffee when I stopped here." He considers a moment, smoking. "And maybe a sandwich. Been a busy night."
"It's okay, I didn't think about that either." Damian says, swishing his tongue around to try and get some of the gross out.
"There used to be a really good little sandwich shop here, with coffee you could jumpstart a bus with," Jai says, looking down the street, "but I guess they must've gone out of business. Or moved, maybe." Sigh.
"I don't know, I haven't been here long." Damian confesses, shrugging his blanket up a bir further to cover hiself to his fuzzy chin, "I haven't found a place with fine sandwiches yet, though I've a deal here with the owners to bring them supplies in exchange for sandwiches."
"...Jimmy's. It was called Jimmy's," Jai says, dredging up the name, and sighs again. "Oh, well. What kinda supplies do you bring them? Like, herbs?"
"Mostly rabbits." Damian answers, leaning back against the wall and putting a hand to his forehead to try and change the temperature, "Foxes. Stuff like that."
"Oh, you're a hunter?" Jai asks, and looks over to the store a moment. "What do they do with them then?" He sounds honestly interested. "...you know, you look really cold. That can't be great for healing."
"Nah, I'm okay. Keeps me from needing an ice pack." Damian assures with a kind and thankfully little smile for Jai's kindness, a true appriciation that will probably never be forgotten, unlike most people who will truly appriciate something for about 5 minutes or until they get distracted, whichever happens first. "All sorts of stuff, I guess. They sell a lot of like, tea and soaps and inscense and stuff like that, and I guess they do like, card readings or something too, but I think that's the girl, Katie. The boy, Zack, does a lot of leather working for hand made goods. Gloves and pouches and all that neat stuff. Big stuff too I guess, but I didn't look at it cause I cant afford that stuff. Here, see?" He parts his blanket so that he can unzip his hoodie, which reveals that his orange shirt is quite blood stained on the front (probably from his face). But that's not what he wanted to show! He actually has a really nice pouch strapped on under his hoodie, made of beautifully soft rabbit hide with a short coat of extremely soft fur inside, a little bone button to keep it closed, and worked tendon thread to hold it together. It's a very nice bit of craft. And it's also filled with a ton of little bitty plastic chickens, one of which is offered to Jai. "Happy belated Christmas, too."
Jai laughs at the ice pack comment, and nods. "Point, I guess. Less likely to melt, you don't end up with freezing water running down your neck and into your shirt... oh, dude, that's really nice." He leans in to look a bit closer at the pouch, thoughtfully. "Is he from around here?" Which is maybe a slightly odd question, but apparently he thinks it follows somehow. "Oh, thanks!" he takes the plastic chicken and turns it over in his fingers, then holds it between finger and thumb, upright and facing Damian, and 'walks' it toward him in the air, going, "Bwak... bwak... bwa-kwak!" It is actually a damn good chicken impression. Almost uncanny, though the silly facial expression distracts a bit.
Damian smiles at Jai, weakly due to his injured lip and obvious tiredness, but it's till heartfelt. "I'm not sure. Local I think, but I never actually asked. Just some of those half remembered comments you hear people make, you know?"
"Happy belated Christmas," Jai says, tucking the little chicken into a pocket of his coat, "Sorry I don't have anything as neat for you right now, I'll make it up later. And yeah, I know what you mean, things you're not totally paying attention to at the time..." He stubs out the butt of the cigarette on the sidewalk, and glances around for a trash receptacle. Alas, none is in view.
Damian holds out his hand for Jai's cigarette butt and says, "Oh no, don't do that. That's not how it works. I had something and wanted to give it to you, so I did, and that's all." Yawning mightily, he says, "I should go find a good spot to set up for the night."
Jai blinks, but hands the butt over easily enough. "...well, thanks. You need a ride somewhere? I should probably go get some sleep too, I guess, but I still need to find lunch. Or whatever meal you wanna call it."
Damian stands up once he's got the butt, and walks it around the corner of the store to place it into a dumpster there before returning. When he does, he stops at his backpack and unzips the top, pushing aside some books on music theory and how to write music, and a couple neatly folded blankets, he asks, "Would you prefer ham, or rabbit?"
"Uh... rabbit, I think," Jai decides, sounding intrigued and leaning to watch what Damian's doing. Well, he did say he was a nosy bastard. "...as long as you're still gonna have enough. It's not like I couldn't hunt down a McDonald's or something to tide me over. You're a musician, huh? Whatcha play?"
Damian reaches down and pats the drum strapped to his pack with a musical little thunk thunk, "I needed the books so I could figure out how to write the sounds down. It's a really difficult language to learn, but I think tomorrow I will learn if it was worth it once my friend finds the gift I left." Damian has sandwiches. He has no home, he has one set of clothes, he has dreads, but he has a stock pile of mother fuckin *sandwiches* that are very cold from the outside weather. He brings out two of them, culinary fucking masterpieces where sandwich quality is concerned, with anything a guy could possibly want on them and stuffed full of juicy looking, delicious rabbit meat. He withdraws two, each wrapped in surran wrap, and hands them towards Jai, "Here, now you don't have to search so hard for your foods. Would this be payment enough for a ride to the <forgot the name> mobile park?"
Jai takes the sandwiches, eyes widening as he looks them over. "Dude. Did you make these? These look awesome!" he exclaims, tucking each of them gently into the outer pockets of his coat. "And delicious. I haven't had rabbit in I don't =know= how long. And sure, I'll take you there. Hop in." He leads the way to his cab, and indicates the front passenger side to Damian before getting in himself. The first aid kit goes back in the glove box, as do both sandwiches, almost lovingly. "What gift did you make? Like a song or something?"
"I didn't, no, Zack made them." Damian confesses, and says with a deeply sandwich adoring tone, "He makes *wonderful* sandwiches. It would behoove you to find an agreement with him that pays in sandwiches if you enjoy a good, quality pocket meal." A fellow coin-eh-sewer of sammiches! zipping his bag, he starts towards the cab's back door and opens it, pushing his bag in and explaining, "I don't have a lot of friends, but I do have a best friend, except that he's been very down in spirits lately and is having a great problem realizing what a wonderful person he is. I thought perhaps some music and poetry might make him smile, if just for a moment. Even a moment of smiling from a friend is worth hours of hard work."
Jai considers. "I'm not a great hunter," he says with a touch of woe, "I don't know if I'd have anything much to offer. Eh, we'll see. Anyway, that's a good attitude. I hope your friend loves your thing. ...music gift type thing, I mean. I should come up with something awesome for the guy who's letting me crash on his couch..."
"Gifts are a wonderful thing." Damian says, sliding into the back, but he rolls the window down before even shutting the door, and cold or not he leans on the open window and rests his chin there. "Little tokens do a lot of good for both souls involved, especially as thank you's for the little things. It's a bit like constant training, when you're surprised by a nice thing just for having done a nice thing, you learn to do nice things more often, and the other way around too with appriciating nice things that people do."
Jai laughs. "Like training a puppy," he says, and glances over his shoulder, "...you know, you can sit up front if you want. Or not, just saying, you have the option." He checks to make sure none of the mirrors have been tipped out of position, and buckles up. "It's weird being back here and knowing almost no one anymore. The hard part is figuring out what someone's gonna like. I mean, some people are obvious, like they have a particular thing they collect or they just like everything period, but most folks are trickier."
"It's alright, but thank you for the offer." Damian says, closing his eyes. Not as though he were sleeping but just being comfortable and working on not noticing the constant sting in his face while talking, "I decided to play by the rules for a few days. Well.. A few of them any how. This one doesn't seem too hard to follow, so I may as well give it a try. Traveled back home to here, you say? Oh that's wonderful, I bet you had a great time traveling. Could I pry a little and ask what your friend is like? Perhaps I could help you decide on something to do or make."
"I was born here," Jai says, pulling out, "and then I lived about four or five other places, came back here around junior high, went away again, and boom, here I am back. But yeah, I like travelling, so overall it was pretty awesome. You don't really get to do much of stuff like that best-friend kind of thing, though, 'cause you're always leaving. What rules?" He considers a few moments. "Lessee. Terry's like... a big puppy. I mean, not literally, obviously, but he's one of those huge football player type guys people get all antsy around, right, but he's a nice guy, tries to help people out when they let him and all. I've been, y'know, doing housework and that kinda thing, so far." He's quiet again, but as usual it's brief, "He watches a lot of sports, really. We used to talk in school mostly, we'd study for tests together in history, not that it did either of us a huge amount of good. I like learning that shit, but I never could focus on regurgitating it back onto paper." Shrug. "I read they used to do oral tests, back in the old days, bet I would've done better then. Anyway, yeah. He doesn't have a lot of other stuff, he broke up with his girlfriend about, hm, two months ago, moved to a new place and practically everything they had apparently was hers. So, not a lot of, y'know, decor to give me more hints."
"Maybe the lack of hints is the hint." Damian suggests, his eyes opening again so that he can watch the asphalt race by under them while they drive, eyes going up and down while watching the lines go by. "If he hasn't got anything, then maybe he just needs a something. Posters in some cheap but nice frames, or some shelves to put new things on as they come. Just the little things that people like to look at so they can be happy."
"I should get him," Jai says slowly and thoughtfully, "...a pterodactyl. I like shelves, she did take all those. Hmm. Yeah." He brightens suddenly, and couldn't be more obviously struck by an idea unless a lightbulb physically appeared above his head and lit up. "Oh. OH. I know where to look! Awesome, thank you. So... what rules is it you're giving following a try?"
"You're welcome, I'm glad I could help." Damian says, actually very pleased. He's had kinda a rough couple of days, and just helping with this little thing really seems to lift his spirits. "Eh, just little ones. Just taking a poke at things like that. There's not a lot of rules involved in wandering around, so I don't usually have to pay attention to them. Like riding in the back of a cab like they say you're supposed to. When am I ever going to ride in a cab?" Except now, obviously. Fortune!
"Well, any time I might end up giving you a ride somewhere, at least," Jai replies cheerfully, "but point taken, if I was gonna go to, I dunno, prom or something, I'd want to wear a tux and get my date a corsage and maybe rent a limo and all that, 'cause that's how you're supposed to experience it, right? ...and then if I went a second time, maybe I'd try it different to see how it went, 'cause that'd be interesting too."
"What's prom?" Damian asks, closing his eyes again and smiling a little bit while shivering at the cold air on his face.
Jai gives Damian a swift glance, well-practiced from plenty of previous passengers, and lets it go slightly longer since hey, the guy's eyes are closed. Then it's back to the road, so they don't die. "It's a big dance they have at the end of the school year in most high schools. Usually only the seniors or them and the juniors are allowed to go. 's all formal, huge production. I didn't go to mine, though. I guess they don't have those where you grew up?"
"They probably do, I just didn't go to school." Damian answers over the wind rush, shifting his blankets to compete with the chill.
"What, not at all?" Jai asks, looking over his shoulder at Damian again, "Like, never? So... were you homeschooled?"
"Nope, not ever." Damian confirms without any bother over the lack, "My mom taught me, yeah. Lots better than having to go to school, I think."
Jai considers this a few moments. "Probably yeah, except for the people thing, but that's only if you like, y'know, people. I never liked the part about showing up and doing what I was getting told to, but I liked the learning things part, which would still've been awesome without actual school, and the people part, which I guess was probably worth it for me, anyway."
"I like people a lot." Damian says wistfully, "They're beautiful and colorful, and so many are in need of a little light in their lives. I'm still figuring out how to meet people though, it's not very easy. Momma said I didn't need friends, so I didn't have any, but I started making some after I left her, more here in this place than anywhere else. This city is like a dust devil made out of really interesting sand."
"This =world=," Jai agrees wholeheartedly, breaking into a grin. "People are the most fascinating things there are. I mean pretty much everything is interesting if you look at it right, and it all links together with invisible chains you can't see but you can work out if you pay enough attention, but nothing's more interesting than people. If it helps any, I'm still figuring out how to meet people and I've been doing it since I can remember. Well, okay, I guess I'm pretty good at meeting people, it's just I don't have that much practice with the long-term bit."
Damian opens his eyes and picks up his head a little to look at Jai, the bruises on his face make it difficult to exactly read his expression, however it certainly seems pleased, and maybe impressed as well. "My thoughts exactly." he says simply for now, tired as he is, or he'd go into some deeper talk about the whole thing, "Yes, the long term is the hardest, but I like to think as long as you leave them with a smile, it doesn't really matter that you go, there's always new friends to meet around the next corner. Or, well, to try and meet. If I see you again, I will introduce you to my friends, and then they may be your friends too."