After the entire mishap with Jack that morning, everything went back to business as usual. Jack carried on playing by himself. Puppette found her duster, turned on the radio, and carried on cleaning. For the better part of the morning, Joker just sat back and watched.
Perhaps he'd like to say that he'd only done so as a figure of speech: Sat back and bide his time while mother and child kept themselves occupied. But he literally sat back and watched... Particularly Jack. He wasn't sure what he'd find by sitting there staring at the kid, but he hoped some sort of realization would come to him. As far as he could tell, he was still just a regular little brat. He hadn't given him anymore looks, he hadn't said or babbled anything... He just sat there and played with his toys.
Joker couldn't figure out what had driven him to try to help Jack up after he'd fallen. Not that Joker ever denied his instinct - He always acted as he felt appropriate. But his instinct had never driven him to try to pick up a fallen child...
But, of course, it wasn't like it happened everyday. He was not exactly a kid-person, and nobody in their right mind would let him anywhere near their children... But, still. He never saw himself doing such a thing. He looked people in the eye while he killed them for God's sake – what on earth had driven him to have, just at that moment, a spark feeling of responsibility for that boy?
Why help him up? As Puppette had said, he could do it fine on his own. He knew that.
It was just... something that happened. Perhaps an isolated incident.
No matter,Christian Louboutin Shoes, he had grown tired of thinking about it.
Joker turned his attention to Puppette. She was standing on her toes, trying to reach the top of her bookshelf to dust it. He noticed again what good shape she was in. Her reaching strained her calves, but also showed them off. He could tell that her legs were nicely toned even under her loose-fitting pajama pants, because of the way they were hugging her skin now. She had a job that kept her busy, and a son to chase after; he wasn't surprised with her having decent legs.
A little further up, and he could see that her curves had filled in nicely over the past years. He liked her when he first found her, a healthy size that also emphasized her curves. And when he'd had her with him, she'd lost a lot of weight, and a lot of curvature. She was healthier now, but still slender. She was somewhere between, and it suited her nicely.
Even her hair and skin looked better; better than he ever remembered. It was to it's natural color, a very dark brown, and flowed over her shoulders to her back. It was lustrous and clean. And her skin... He'd always known her to be somewhat pale, and it wasn't that she was ever really filthy, but it just looked healthier. It was still light and matte, not oily or blemished, but she just seemed to glow now. Something about his memory of her before – she'd seemed ashen, a bit green of tone. She was warmer now.
“Mmm...” She groaned, trying to reach higher.
It brought Joker out of his observation, so that he actually saw what she was trying to do. He shook his head. How silly of her. Why didn't she just get a chair and get up there?
...Because she was stubborn.
Joker's brow wrinkled, and he tried not to sigh. This was a perfect time to act chivalrous; to help the damsel with her chores.
He got up and walked over to her, sticking his hands in his pockets. He stood at her side, looking up to the top of the shelf. He looked at her, and waited.
She grinned, already seeing that he had come to her rescue. She tried a bit more before finally admitting defeat. She brought down her arm, and gave him a charming smile.
“Need help?” He made sure to avoid any tone that would imply flirting. He wasn't flirting with her. He was not in the mood for this heroic nonsense.
She rolled her eyes and smiled a little deeper. “I'll just get a chair, thanks though.”
He retorted by rolling his eyes. “Gimme the duster.”
Her smile turned daring, and she cocked her eyebrow. “Yes sir.” She handed over the device.
Joker was certain he'd never actually held a duster before. He wasn't big on cleaning, it had never really concerned him. Holding it now, he realized he wasn't actually sure how it worked. He'd watched her dust the rest of the shelves, moving back and forth and kicking up the dust – but he didn't know what the point of it was. The dust would only settle again, later.
But no matter,UGG Sale, he could mimic her.
He reached up, with much less effort, and began sweeping the upper shelf. Dust flew everywhere. He frowned, squinting his eyes and curling his lip as he knocked the rest of the dust to the floor.
Puppette waved her hand in front of her face, waving the particles away.
“Thanks.” She smiled as the dust finally stopped swirling, “Be right back, I'll get the broom.”
A broom, of course, to sweep up the dust. That seemed obvious now.
When Puppette turned away, Joker relaxed his arm at his side and rolled his neck. He held the duster, but didn't move. He closed his eyes for a second and listened to the music that Puppette had blasting out of her little MP3 setup.
She didn't listen to the radio of course, because of the risks of hearing a news broadcast...
But her doctors had helped her load an MP3 player with music, and given it to her to help occupy her time.
He hated the sounds it was producing.
So far, all he'd heard was pop music. Party this and party that. Something about Friday nights and something else about waking up with strange tattoos... They were all very upbeat, something like the songs he'd heard playing in clubs...
Joker shook his head as the latest tune faded out, and a new one began.
Boom da boom boom, Boom da boom boom, Boom da boom boom.
“Oh yes!” He heard Puppette squeal from around the corner. He opened his eyes and looked for her, but didn't see her. He moved a bit, looking around into the kitchen. He caught her as she slid across the kitchen floor in her socks. A brief but swift stunt that saved her a few seconds. She stopped just as quickly beside her kitchen table where she had her music player set up.
“Dis my jam!” She grinned at Joker, leaning over to turn up the volume.
Joker shot her a look of concern. He completely cocked his head when the volume was turned up,Moncler Jackets, and he could feel the bass rattle his chest.
She sung with the words, as they came on. “Yeah. Yeeeah!”
She started prancing around the kitchen, putting toes before heels and swinging her hips. She laughed hysterically as she did so. It was the look on his face that was making her laugh, and he knew it: The utter misunderstanding and fear, the entirely awkward way he locked up because he knew what she was going to do next.
“You don't like this song?” She grinned.
He swallowed down his sickness. “I don't know it.” His low voice was barely audible over the music.
“No way.” She shook her head, still shimmying where she stood. She waved at him. “Well, c'mon, even if you don't know the words, you can still dance, right?”
And there it was. She was asking him to dance to this. At that moment, Joker could of easily been confused with a teenage wallflower at his first middle school dance. He shook his head without hesitation. “It's not really my style.”
She pouted, but it didn't last long. She instantly smiled again, and jumped right back into the beat, singing along. She smiled still, but didn't pay him any attention as she swayed... And then, the beat picked up...
If Joker had to compare, what she did next was something akin to being hit by a fire truck for him.
Her body... just... rolled. All around. Her shoulders, her arms, her elbows, her knees and hips, and her head... Her hair only made the motions more fluid.
“When the hell did you learn to do that?” He muttered to himself.
She had never, ever moved like that before. Ever.
Joker didn't know what to think.
Was this – Was this some sort of tribal mating ritual? What was she thinking? He couldn't imagine Gavin would approve of her moving like this for Joe to see. And since when did she move like that! Seriously! He wasn't aware that she had that much grace! If one could call it grace. It was rather rude. That sort of torquing was best saved for strip clubs and bedrooms – not right out here, in the open.
Joker looked away then, realizing that he was still watching her. It was disgusting. She was supposed to be a mild-mannered, sweet and polite, single mother. Not this.
What was she – Seriously ,what was she thinking? Was she trying to attract him? If she was, she was coming on awfully strong. He didn't like it. Before he realized it, she had swung her way right over to him.
“C'mon, loosen up. You're making me feel like a total goof-ball.”
He had nothing nice to say to reply, so he kept his mouth shut.
“It's okay, you might as well dance. You can't embarrass yourself anymore than I am right now.”
That was true. That was very true. But he remained persistent. He shook his head again. “I can't. Maybe, if you wanna waltz sometime, but I won't dance like that.”
She squinted at him then, still swinging to the beat. “I'm not gonna be happy until you do it.”
He looked at her reluctantly, only to discover that she was serious.
Unbelievable. She was daring him again, a little more brutally this time, but she was being honest. She might not act on it, but unless he entertained her silly notion, her feelings would be hurt.
“Ugh.” He groaned. “I can't believe you- I can't believe you're doing that.”
She smiled wickedly then, knowing that her trap had caught it's prey. She waited, watching him. He pinched his nose and let out a heavy sigh. Unbelievable. If anyone ever found out about this – he would kill them. Just slaughter them.
“Okay, fine.” He grumbled.
And he too started swaying, horribly off beat of the music. But it made her smile, genuinely.
“Awesome!” She grinned, moving a little more freely again now that he had cooperated.
Joker wanted to gag. He just wanted to swallow his own tongue.
She laughed, turning back and to around him, getting more and more into the music. He continued to sway, just in case she bothered to pay him anymore attention.
And he caught himself looking at her again.
The way her hair thrashed when she whipped her head around. The way her fingers curled up into those fragile little fists she always made when he grabbed her wrists. The way her hands pushed against the back of her neck and into her hair until it was all gathered on top of her head, and the way it fell when she let it go. How she stepped on her toes, to give her more fluency. And the way her hips rolled...
He felt the urge to grab her; to take her by her elbow and pull her to him, to feel her move like that against him. Her hips, rolling like that; and he could get his hands around her throat...
Ping: That strange little tightness between his legs.
Joker swallowed, and stopped moving at once. He couldn't do this. He couldn't take it. This was a dangerous game, it was too delicate. He had to decide now, take her for his own, or disappoint her to continue on with his little project. It had to be one or the other, because he was hungry for her. But he knew the timing wasn't right. He couldn't unveil himself right now, he wanted it too much. He'd be too violent.
Joker swallowed down his urge, and turned away from her. He could wait. It would make it even sweeter when he finally did lay his hands on her.
To occupy himself, he put the duster to the shelves containing her family photos.
A few moments passed before he finally saw her slip away, back towards the table. She turned the volume down, and let out a breathy sigh.
“Whew... That's enough of that. I'm worn out... Back to business.”
She went back for the broom, returned with it, and swept up the mess of dust they had made. Joker stood back then, and watched silently. And again, before he knew it, she was struggling with something else. He helped her again, and then generously recruited himself to help her. She insisted that it was her duty, and that she was thankful for his offer, but he didn't need to feel obligated to help her. He dumbly insisted, unamused with her waving his offer. The sooner it was done, the sooner she would settle down.
...
And the day went on like that, as redundant as it was. They cleaned her house from top to bottom. Dusting, sweeping, vacuuming, and even polishing the furniture and windows. Joker was sure that he'd never worked so hard. He was meticulous about most things, but most things were fun. This was not. It was a nuisance, if anything! He was sick of doing it.
So, when they finally raveled down for the day, he crashed hard.
“That's about everything.” She smiled, wiping her hands dry on a dish towel as she looked around at her spotless house. “Thanks for your help.”
He nodded, smirking weakly. He didn't really care to seem sincere. He never wanted to clean again.
“Oh!” She popped herself in the forehead. “I almost forgot about the laundry. I gotta get it folded.”
He struggled not to bite his lip. “Do you need help?”
She shook her head, starting away to fetch the laundry. “Nope, you've already done too much today. Sit down and take a load off.”
He nodded, relieved to finally be excused from her excessive duties. “Okay.”
She carried on walking, and he did his best to stand up with his shoulders high. But as soon as she disappeared around the corner: “Ugh...” He groaned quietly, putting his hands over his face. He slithered solemnly to the ground until he was on the floor, laying on his back.
How! How had the day gone like this! He was tired and frustrated, and he'd gotten nothing out of Puppette. Nothing interesting at all. As it turned out, she liked a clean house. To be fair, he'd never noticed before. But it didn't mean anything to him now!
But he did learn something about her, right? Something he hadn't noticed before...
She could dance decently? And she actually wasn't afraid to be flirtatious? She was a confident woman who liked to string men along? Not entirely. She only meant it as innocent fun, but it had come off in the wrong way to him... He was starting to understand why so many men had gone after her despite his violent warnings. He didn't forgive them, but he saw now why she was so appealing to their tiny brains.
He'd missed those things before. She'd been too scared and whiny to break loose like that before. She was a lot less tense now... She was more na?ve. But he'd betted on that.
He didn't like it, anyway. He wanted to see that dire helplessness in her again.
“Bah.” A little voice spoke up.
Joker, admittedly surprised, took his hands from his eyes. He found himself staring directly up into Jack's pudgy little face.
The stealthy brat had waddled right over to him without making a peep, and had crouched beside his head, and was looking over him.
Joker gave the child a mean face. “What do you want?”
Jack, who was currently examining the length of Joker's body, looked him in the eye. As if to answer, Jack let out a string of incomprehensible blabber.
Something about the kid made Joker relax, and he let go of his scowl. Instead, he inspected Jack. Jack did the same. Only a moment passed before Jack leaned forward, onto his knees, planting his chubby hands into Joker's chest.
It made Joker jump. And he couldn't help but scowl again. So many things ran through his mind. What was he doing? Why had he done that? He wanted him off. He had the mind to pick up the brat by his arms, and throw him off. But he couldn't do that. That would hurt him, and Puppette would be pissed.
“What are you doing?” Joker grumbled.
Jack had already busied himself playing with the folds in Joker's t-shirt, but he turned to look when Joker spoke. He blinked, and then reached again, this time towards Joker's face.
Enough. Joker reached up and pushed the boy's arm aside. He held it away from him, but he was careful not to actually grip him.
His scowl was deep. “Don't you know you're not supposed to wallow all over people? What's the matter with you?”
Jack looked stunned, although Joker realized that he probably hadn't understood a single word of his scolding; Pushing his hand away had upset him. His curious eyes became sad, his cheeks burned bright red, and he began to pout. His lower lip trembled, just like his mother's did.
Joker rolled his tongue in his mouth. “Don't cry.” He warned assertively. “Don't you dare.”
“Mmm...” Jack began to whimper.
“Okay, okay, fine.” Joker hacked, moving his had away from Jack. He waved his hands at first in surrender, peeking around the boy to make sure that Puppette wasn't standing over them, watching. He looked back at Jack and frowned. Then he pointed at his face. “Do it, do whatever you were going to do... Brat.”
Jack hesitated, looking at Joker carefully. He was just looking at him dumbly, as if his little infant pride had been damaged.
“Do it.” Joker shrugged. He knew then that he still looked very mean. He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. He tried to relax his harsh features. “I'm sorry, alright? Shh. Just do whatever... Just don't cry.”
He opened his eyes. Jack was staring at him, the curiosity had returned, but he hadn't moved a single muscle. And then, more cautiously now, he reached towards Joker's face.
This was demeaning. The Great Clown Prince had been wrangled by an infant punk. Joker's lip twitched as he tried to follow the boy's hand, but it slipped from his vision as his fingers reached towards his mouth. He was subject to the boy's experments. Whatever he wanted, Joker had subjected himself to-
His face ignited when he felt little fingers in the fissure of his scars. He felt his heart thud. His lungs involuntarily inhaled, a breath meant to brace the stunning sensation.
Sometimes Joker forgot about his scars. Not that they were there, that was obvious; and not that they were curious to other people, but that he could still feel a person's touch there. How even though they were chapped and dry, they seemed to emphasize a simple touch.
His scars meant a lot to him, more than he'd ever admit to anyone. In so many ways, they were his identity, his lifeline, the heart on his sleeve. It was an intimate relationship, and no one else was allowed to understand; he wasn't even sure he understood.
His scars held secrets. Something deeply routed concerning them caused him a great deal of pain. It was a grief that he buried deep in his subconscious, and he viciously ignored when ever it knocked at the back of his brain. Something he turned away from.
But Jack's curiosity was unlocking it. The gentle exploring of the little fingers sent a prickling feeling into his muscles, and seemed to reverberate through his blood vessels. He could feel it churning his insides, creating sparks in his nerves and mind.
Joker's face became taunt. He laid still, and let Jack trace his scars with his puny fingers. He could hear his heart pounding in his head, and he was certain that he was holding his breath. Jack lifted his other hand, and ran his palms along Joker's seams. He did so delicately, as if he was afraid he'd hurt him or rip the skin further.
Jack's expression became darker, more curious, if that was at all possible. He didn't know how to react. He couldn't throw Jack away, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
It was like Jack knew. He could feel the ignition just the same as Joker. His excitement was at the same level: He was exploring more than just the texture. In his small mind, he was trying to understand why the scars existed – why he'd never met anyone else with a smile like this.
Joker felt the clicking, and he could feel something awful happening, but he liked it. He wanted to know what was going to happen next.
Joker saw the question in Jack's eyes.
How did this happen?
That seemed to pull the trigger. The darkness exploded in his skull and he felt a flash of fever.
“No,beats tour! No, Jack!” The feminine shrieks pierced his brain.
Joker's mouth fell slack.
“Jack!” Puppette scolded playfully.
Both Jack and Joker looked up at Puppette, both of them startled. She read their expressions, and instantly became more serious, wiping her smile away. “Jack, get off of the poor man. He's worked very hard today.”
Jack reluctantly took his hands off of Joker, and backed away. He waddled back, going around the couch and back to his toys.
Puppette looked down at Joker, smiling gently as she shook her head. “You don't have to let him crawl all over you like that. Tell him to get off.”
Joker shrugged, clearing his throat. “He's fine. He didn't do anything.”
Puppette looked at him sympathetically. “Are you okay?”
Joker nodded. “Mmhm. Yeah. Just a bit off... Excuse me.”
He got up, leaving her there, and walked into the nearest restroom. He closed the door calmly, and then leaned over the sink. He gripped the edges of the counter so hard that his knuckles turned white. And he looked into the mirror.
Not now.
He wouldn't do this.
… He couldn't wait any longer,Moncler Sale, if this is what it meant.
He wouldn't play this part anymore.
Joker sneered at his reflection.
Ready or not, he was coming.
No comments:
Post a Comment