( outside the apartment, jason at least tries to go for a bit of normalcy. it's not a concern elsewhere, but he's trying to avoid any looks from civilians here. inside the apartment? he's a goddamn mess. there's a ratty black tank top that doesn't do shit to cover how fucked up his shoulder is (bullet wound straight through, bruises and smaller cuts all over), nor the bruises on his neck. his face is battered, nose swollen, an eye still puffy. and under the shorts his legs aren't much different than the rest of him. his hands are fully taped up, covered in bandages to hide how bad his knuckles are.
but he's standing in the kitchen with a few containers of leftovers freshly warmed up, and raises a thumb up to lick some of the pasta sauce off of it. )
[Kate dumps the butter on the counter and immediately gets up in his personal space, reaching up to brush her fingers against one of the bruises on his jaw. Her touch is light enough that it barely sets off the empathy bond—just enough for him to get a flutter of concern and frustration.]
You and Damian have dismissing injuries down to an art, you know that?
( barely, but it does set it off. he's--in a fair amount of pain, winces from the contact and luckily, as bad as everything else is--everyone's back up and alive. he's still angry, still depressed, but the pain's stronger than any of that. his good hand raises up, moves to shrug off her hand before reaching for a few plates in the cupboard to the side of the oven. )
Yeah, yeah. ( pasta noodles transferred into two separate bowls, and jason slides one across the counter to kate. pours sauce over his own and puts the pot down towards her, too. )
[Kate's quiet for a second, dumping a little extra sauce on her pasta as she tries to figure out what to say. She takes much longer doing it than is strictly necessary.]
Damian's been talking to me, at least. He's not bottling everything up like I thought he would.
( whatever, he's going to just. dig right into this pasta now, thanks. pretend that this is a completely normal conversation to be having while they're both covered in bandaids. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but he's standing in the kitchen with a few containers of leftovers freshly warmed up, and raises a thumb up to lick some of the pasta sauce off of it. )
Hey.
no subject
[Kate dumps the butter on the counter and immediately gets up in his personal space, reaching up to brush her fingers against one of the bruises on his jaw. Her touch is light enough that it barely sets off the empathy bond—just enough for him to get a flutter of concern and frustration.]
You and Damian have dismissing injuries down to an art, you know that?
no subject
's fine, you get used to it.
no subject
[She says, but there's no heat behind it.]
Are you okay? Really okay?
no subject
This is nothing I can't handle.
no subject
I don't mean physically.
no subject
( so no, he isn't okay. but there's nothing that can be done to change what happened. )
Added some fresh basil to the sauce.
no subject
[Kate's quiet for a second, dumping a little extra sauce on her pasta as she tries to figure out what to say. She takes much longer doing it than is strictly necessary.]
Damian's been talking to me, at least. He's not bottling everything up like I thought he would.
no subject
"Damian"?
no subject
Uh... Yeah. He told me his real name a little while ago.
no subject
( whatever, he's going to just. dig right into this pasta now, thanks. pretend that this is a completely normal conversation to be having while they're both covered in bandaids. )
no subject
no subject
( it's not a secret. but there is a dramatic pause, as jason pauses to. shove a forkful of pasta into his mouth. )
That kid's paranoia runs deeper than the fucking ocean.
no subject
Let a girl pretend she's making progress, okay?
no subject
I'll tell you his real name, if you can do me a favor.
no subject
[She says it so dramatically that it's clear she's teasing.]
But you're feeding me, so okay. What is it?
no subject
( another forkfull of pasta. )
Keep me updated, since he's opening up to you.
no subject
[Kate shoves a forkful of her own pasta in her mouth, and... yeah, okay, she's impressed. Good job, Jason.]
You have to keep me updated, too. I want to know how you're doing.
no subject
Jim. Dickie calls him Jimmy.
no subject
[Is he lying?]
Dickie?
no subject
( richard. dick. dickie. dickard. what difference does it make. )
You can ask him, if you wanna.
no subject
[She pauses, considering carefully.]
Jay Jay?
no subject
no subject
no subject
( this rebel will just. casually start exiting the kitchen, moving to the (well lived-in) sofa. )