ringing in the new year

[beastkeeper]

For the most part, the beginning of every new year on the block is the same. There's the party, held down in the common room (barely distinguishable from the lobby, but hey, who cares), and the reminders that go up in the week prior, telling people to bring food to share (not that everyone does — the witch provides more than enough, anyhow). There are, of course, smaller parties, held in the apartments upstairs or on the grounds, and the combinations of creatures always rotates (more or less), but the overall air remains the same. The end of one year and the ushering in of another is cause to celebrate.

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JACK & CERBOS | study

[insides]

[Jack isn't the most pleasant of presences -- Cerbos even less so -- so he's taken the liberty of excusing himself from the party and withdrawn to the study room where he and others are allowed (or expected) to build up a little culture. He does enjoy a good read from time to time but life in the collection has turned him into a very successful chronic smoker, so he's sticking to clear priorities and making his way to open the window and let some of that accusing stench out.

Jack really couldn't care less about the New Year. He doesn't need reminders that there are things out there he will never get to see or experience worth celebrating.

(That would only be welcoming him to toy around in the back of his mind, wouldn't it.)]

[hysterics]

[ Someone's come to say hello, Jack, and she hasn't quite decided if she'd rather you be vaguely pleasant or downright awful to her when she does. When Betina comes calling, it's with that bright wintery smell of evening air on her, draped over with the haze of already smoked cigarettes and the very faintest trace of something tannic like whiskey.

In her hand is a wine glass with a modest pouring of merlot (from her own kitchen, not the party downstairs; pleasant or unpleasant she's loathe to offer Jack something as detestable as box wine). When she saunters over, she offers it to him silently, the corners of her mouth turning upwards and her eyebrow raised as if challenging him to refuse her first olive branch of the year. ]

[insides]

[He's happily distracted by the electric lights buzzing in the darkness, attention drifting loosely to any people who roam on the outside freely, laughing and discussing all the wonderful new things they have in store for the upcoming year.

He stops and glances at Betina when she makes her presence known, hesitating to bring the cigarette to his lips before taking a good look at her generous offer. Jack can guess what she's looking for when she seeks out or welcomes his company. It doesn't make him feel any less uncomfortable, knowing what she does to herself and others, but there's a strange renouncement of responsibility that he allows himself to have when it's Cerbos that does the acting for him. Sometimes.]

... Oh dear. [He arches his brows and presses his lips. It would look like a smile on anyone else's face. She should know better than that.] Must be a very special occasion.

[hysterics]

[ That smile of hers splits open, revealing mirthful teeth. Betina's lipstick is smudged right at the corner of her mouth — the smallest flaw, a deliberate one, while not a hair on her head remains out of place otherwise. She gives the contents of the glass a lazy swirl as if to encourage its bouquet. (Oak, peat, smoke — all the words they use in magazines to describe choice wines.) ]

Come now, Jack. [ Her voice is a low singsong in its admonishment. ] They tell me today only happens once a year.

[insides]

Every day happens once a year, or so I'm told.

[He's being difficult, like he always is, adding just a hint of playfulness to the tone. Jack pauses and observes her for a moment, thumb idly toying with the tip of his cigarette before he leans away from the window to pick up the glass. He mimics the swirl and tilts it to pick up the scent.

(He used to appreciate wine a long time ago, when he allowed himself to enjoy some of life's little gifts. It's no more than a ritual now.)]

You aren't serving this at the party, are you? [There's a little frown when he asks. That'd be a terrible waste.]

[hysterics]

[ She frowns back in reply but even Betina's frowns seem to somehow curl up at the very edges. The corners of her eyes crinkle, betraying the set of her mouth, and it's obvious she's not trying very hard to abate her amusement. Difficult or easy, good or bad — bad or worse — she'll take it. ]

Ah. Touché.

[ Betina cants an easy hip against the wall and goes about brushing the red of her hair from her face. It holds in big fat curls, perfectly formed; that same hand braces itself against a bookshelf as she leans in closer, her eyes dancing. It makes her look hungry. (It makes her look mad.) ]

I may be a glutton for punishment but I'm hardly daft.

[insides]

[Something softly fades in his expression when she reminds him of that. He turns and steps back to the window, tapping his index against the cigarette to shake off the ashes. His tone is dry.]

Is that what this is, then? A bribe.

[hysterics]

[ Betina clicks her tongue, crossing and then uncrossing her arms as she waves a hand through the air. ] Don't be like that, [ she says lightly, the chide in her voice still managing some playfulness, like the flick of an animal's tail.

Her tongue darts out and licks the corner of her mouth, just right where her lipstick is smudged. (Thank you, Hollis.) ]

Who's to say I haven't glutted myself already? Aren't you glad to see me, Jack? [ A rhetorical question, of course. Betina's fairly certain Jack's not glad for anything anymore. ] I am so very glad to see you.

[insides]

Yes, of course.

[He wants it to be dismissive, but her reaction only digs a deeper hole into the thought: it's not you they want, it's him. It's an unsettling thought, even if he never found himself deserving of anyone's attention. This, however, is something he only became when the witch captured him, an element that wasn't there before and doesn't feel natural, like a constant buzz in his ear that gets louder when all else is absent.

He really does wonder if whatever he does to others when Cerbos takes control was planted in him first.

Jack takes another drag, long and deliberate, finally turning with his back leaned against the window stool. He still hasn't touched the wine.]

And what have you been up to, Betina?

[hysterics]

[ She watches him smoke, watches him ignore the wine that she's brought for him. Eventually, Betina extends an arm and places the very tips of her fingers at the bottom of the glass. With a soft ah, ah, ah she urges it upwards — not all the way to his mouth but in its general vicinity. Her voice looses some of its singsong quality, grows more matter-of-fact, though still darkly mirthful at its very edges. ] The witch demanded a parade and a parade she got. All of the animals were on display, two by two. Why, you'd think Noah himself had demanded the show. And I'm not one to forget to pay my respects.

[ An amused exhale. ]

But if you really must know, I've been speaking to Hollis. [ A pause. Her pupils dilate. ] He sends his regards.

[flutterings]

[ darla hovers in the doorway, nose wrinkled at the smell. the study is usually a good place to hide away, since it is hardly well-visited, especially not during parties. she feels almost cheated, finding jack already occupying the place. so she hesitates, fingers whitening on the doorframe. ]

Happy New Year, Jack.

[insides]

[He's in the middle of a drag when he turns his head to find her. Jack takes a moment to reply, smoke trailing upwards.]

Didn't think you'd make your escape so soon.

[He doesn't wish her a Happy New Year -- but not because he's trying to be unpleasant. He really just wants to ignore the occasion.]

Unless you're here to drag me back.

[flutterings]

I'm not going to drag you back.

[ she dislikes the smoke--it gets into her hair and she'll reek of it for the rest of the night--but she perches upon a table, edging books aside. it's quiet and jack isn't intolerable. for the moment, she can hide away in here. ]

It was getting to be...too much.

[ he'd understand what she meant, jack. she's sure of that much. ]

[insides]

Good. [Then he can relax. He's sure it wouldn't be beyond Circe to have all her pets fetched and brought in for a display.] And I'm sorry to hear that.

[He takes one last, long drag from the cigarette, throws it out the window and digs in his pockets for his pack.]

I take it you don't smoke.

[He should remember, if he cared enough about other people anymore. He doesn't.]

[flutterings]

It happens.

[ it had always happened, even before she'd arrived here. darla had never been one for parties. her fingers trace the spine of a book, gently brushing over the lettering. ]

No. But I don't mind if you do.

[ that's a lie. but he was here first. she isn't fussy enough about the smoke to make him put it out on her account. ]

[insides]

Good for you, Darla.

[And painfully hypocritical of him. But he tends to treat practically all other inhabitants of this house as children.]

[flutterings]

[ she gives a little trill of laughter, almost bird-like in sound. ]

It's hardly deserving of congratulations.

[striping]

[Josias hasn't come to speak to Jack, nor to read or soak up any culture from the room. He had plenty enough of that in his life outside the block, and he doubted one little room was going to extend on any of the things he'd seen in various international museums and libraries.

But if there was one thing he'd really learnt from libraries, it was that they were excellent places to hide things. He crosses to a specific shelf, starts poking around amongst the books there, his greeting entirely distracted,]

Good evening, Jack.

[insides]

[He gives Josias a passing glance, worried for moments that he might have to interrupt yet another moment of peace with someone's need to be entertained. The young man is easily recognized, however, and the knowledge that he'll be left alone for it quickly follows.]

Evening.

[He takes another drag -- the last one the cigarette in his fingers has any room left for. He throws it out the window and shoves his hands in his pockets, facing Josias with an inquisitive frown, exhaling smoke.]

What are you looking for?

[Not that he's particularly interested. If it's a book title he knows (he finds it hard to believe Josias would need one), he can help him get it over with faster.]

[striping]

Hm.

[He doesn't answer straight away, balancing about six books in one hand as he leans into the shelf, peering behind the ones left. His voice is muffled by paper and wood when he finally chooses to explain.]

A rather nice bottle of Glenrothes '85 that I didn't want getting filched. [He pulls his head back from the shelf, turning to look at Jack over his shoulder.] Books make surprisingly good guardians, I've found.

[insides]

[He presses his lips and arches an eyebrow, turning away to close the window. No point in letting any more of that cold in.]

I shouldn't be surprised. [He speaks a little louder, making sure his voice, somewhere between disinterested and disapproving, is well heard.] No one uses this place to actually read anymore.

[Says the man who used it as a refuge to smoke. He wipes his hands on his jacket and makes his way to Josias, lessening the load on his hand.]

Do you actually remember where you hid it?

[striping]

Only because I've already read everything in here.

[He says it with a sharp smile, perhaps slightly insulted by the insinuation that he doesn't read. The smile only spreads wider as Jack chooses to take some of the books out of his hand. He tips his head slightly in silent thanks, before turning back to the shelf.]

No. I was quite sloshed at the time.

[Which was probably another reason why hiding a bottle of expensive whiskey behind some books had seemed like such an excellent idea.]

[insides]

[There's a little shift in Jack's expression, mildly surprised by the first answer. Impressed, even.]

You poor boy. You must be very bored.

[He moves over to the nearest table to place the books down as Josias continues, fingers brushing lightly on the covers. There are a couple in this stack that he hasn't touched.

His back is turned and his focus is somewhere else when he replies.]

That explains it, then.

[striping]

[The look of surprise, as slight as it is, is very satisfying, though he can't say he's especially pleased to be referred to as boy.]

Trapped in this place, you do end up scraping the bottom of the barrel for entertainment.

[There is an underlying hint of bitterness to the words. Josias is not someone who enjoys being caged. Still, thoughts of entertainment have him looking back at Jack again.]

Not joining the party?

[insides]

Tried. Got bored.

['Trying' is too kind a word. He only passed by because it was on the way.]