Voodoo Tattoo
Though the outside looks a bit rough and the inside at first glance seems a little seedy and run-down, a closer look will reveal that while the building is old and the fixtures are well worn, the tattoo parlor itself is perfectly professional and up to code. Clean and well-kept, the space has a lot of clutter of pictures of clients and their tattoos up on the walls along with colorful and mis-matched furniture. The overall feeling is not dissimilar to being in your favorite club or diner, where things are a little chaotic and compressed, but oddly comfortable and cool. Books are laid out up front with endless pictures of tattoos and designs for customers to browse through and a chalkboard hangs predominately up on one wall with all of the prices and information.
It's quiet, for a little while at least, here on the Fourth of July. Voodoo Tattoo has seen it's fair share of clients over the holiday weekend, but it's been steady work, good work, not the usual stream of people who come in, look at the books, see the artists working and then run out with their hands over their mouths. And just for the last few days, since yesterday midday, actually, the parlour has had a new assistant in Paige. Mostly it's just been straightening, and organizing, with a little bit of tidying up. Whatever she can do without bothering her ribs too much. Just for the right now, she's stepped out of the parlour itself, and is standing in the alleyway beside the building, the light shining from above slanting half on and half off of her, heaving her body illuminated, but her face still protected by the shadow of the building. "I feel like I want to take up smoking."
—-
Jed doesn't mind the quiet. Gives him time to think, the plan, to design. Which is in fact, just what he's doing at the moment, sitting in front of his table, books of reference material and images piled around him as he sketches out a special request from a customer. But his mind isn't really on the work. It's more on the young woman bustling about his place. "Whyfor, darlin?" he returns when Paige makes her statement. "Y'thinkin' it'll make you look cooler or somethin? Mebbe tougher? Or is youse just lookin' fer a way to look like yer doin' somethin' when in facts you ain't doin' nuthin'? I do hafta say, smokin' worked wonders fer that. Stand there, puffin' away, lookin' cool and important. But just standin' around doin' nuthin'? One looks like a damn moron, that's whut." Turning about on his stool, Jed leans his arms back on the table behind him to face Paige as she stands in the alleyway door. "Whut's on yer mind, Paige. You want fer to git out fer a bit, do sumthin'? Yeh seem … twitchy this mornin'. Gots ants in yer pants?"
—-
"I'm standing. In an alleyway. I have to be smoking, everyone knows that." It's a classic television and movie trope. The worker sneaking out the back door to grab a few lungfuls before the boss finds out, as Paige is right now. Only she's not really a worker, and Jed's not really her boss. And since he's looking right at her, it's not really sneaking. "Of course, I should also be expecting some mob guy to come up to me and start shaking me down for his money." Paige turns back, still standing in the doorway, but looking back into the studio, "I don't need anything to make me look cooler though, I've got you." What could be tougher than a guy who looks so scrappy, with full arm sleeves and a bad attitude? "I guess I'm still getting over being in the hospital, just lying and sitting. I feel like I could just start running and not stop for miles."
—-
Chuckling softly, Jed muses, "T'would be better iffin' it were night time, a slant of street lamp light cutting across your face on an angle like. Real stylish and noir, that t'would be. But then you'd be needin' a fancy ball gown and somehows I don't see yerslef gittin' all dressed up like that jest fer standin' in an alley way. Mebbe you'd be more like James Dean, with rucked up cuffs on yer jeans and a shirt tied up between yer boobs. Witch Without a Cause." His head cocks to one side before he gestures her back in. "Well, Doc says you ain't supposed to do none of that, so hows about I help you occupy yers mind instead of yer body?"
—-
"I've gotten dressed up for worse things than an alleyway. Of course, if I wore the dress, then I'd need a detective in a trenchcoat with a fedora, so I could blow my smoke in his face all seductive-like. And I don't think I know any of those." The suggestion of James Dean brings a wrinkle to Paige's nose, "Oh hell no. I am NOT that country." Which is really the only time she's ever seen women walking around with their stomach's hanging out and their shirts tied up. The door's closed, as Paige steps back in, locking out the sun and heat. "I don't know. I've been reading over the book Quinn gave me, but it's…well, it's hard to practice, when you can't do anything, you know? what about you? Can I help you with anything?"
—-
"Well, if that is whut you want, I suppose I coulds always drop down by the Salvation Army, sees whut they gots in the ways of trenchcoats and f'dora's, but we might have to wait till winter. Heat might jest kill me in that outfit come this time of year." He chuckles softly at her refusal to be a Daisy Duke clone noting, "Iffin' you dressed like that, you'd be beatin' the boys of with a stick, sugar." One brow raises at her comment, Jed patting the stool next to him, indicating that Paige should take a seat. "Be patient. These things take time, sometimes. T'ain't nuthin' you can do to hurry it along, so y'might as well jest sit back and stop frettin'. That generally jest makes things worse I finds." Once Paige is seated, Jed pats her shoulder gently before turning to face her. "Now. I's been thinking about yer ink what to come. It's important, fer the strength of the spell, that the imagery mean something in the greater context of the world and symbols, but that it also be meanin' somethin' to you, even if that simply be that y'like it more than some other symbol. You with me girl?"
—-
"Oh, well, that's alright then. I know CPR." Paie's voice perks up at the thought, some of the humour she usually exhibits coming out in the comment. Basic first aid is one of those odd little skills you tend to pick up when you work with a crew that's routinely traveling and romping around in places that are less than savoury. Sometimes help just isn't close enough. Paige makes it back to the table, hopping, okay, sort of lifting, herself up onto the stool, looking down at the sketches Jed's working on. Lifting a hand to cover the one on her shoulder while it rests there, she nods, setting aside talk of her own current problems, and instead considering Jed's comments on the work he wants to do on her, "Well, you know I like pretty much anything south and southeast asian. I mean, not the dragony types of things that are sort of chinese influences, like that, but the sort sort of buddhist and hindu things. Although I've really been fascinated by islamic architecture, lately. So those things sort of mean something to me."
—-
Lips purse as Jed muses, "Well, t'be honest, when thinkin' 'bout what sorts of images would befit for emotional control, the first thin I thinks of is Mr. Spock. But somehow I reckon you don't really want a Vulcan tattoo'ed on yer tusche." His eyes sparkle with amusement at the very idea though. Jed always did like Star Trek, even if he was more of a Captain Kirk sorta fella than a Mr. Spock one. That Uhura chick was damn pretty, that's for sure. "So then I was thinkin' like it sounds you was thinkin'. Maybe a sitting Buddhist sorta fella, done in pale blues and whites, like a statue, in a meditatin' kinda pose. But that might be a bit vague, I dunno. So heres some other thoughts and symbols that I done researched up." Pushing aside his current design of a Chinese dragon holding a glowing pearl, Jed pulls down one book from the pile next to him and flips it open till he finds the right page. "Now there's the symbol of the lion. Couple of ways that might be good. Iffin' we go the Tarot direction, we get the lady and the lion. It represents lots of things. Self- control, patience, compassion, kindness, discipline, inner strength, composrue, perseverance, just to name a few. It's a powerful symbol. An ancient symbol. Only problem I see is that it means an awful lot. That'll dillute it's strength some right there. Spread it around, rather than concentratin' it." His right hand is already reaching for another book, another choice as he lets Paige mull over the three he's mentioned so far.
—-
Paige reaches out, nudging Jed, rather forcefully, though not SO hard that she'd knock him off of the stool, "I am NOT getting Leonard Nimoy's face tattooed anywhere on my body, especially not my ass. No one needs protection that badly." Even she is not that much of a science fiction geek. "And if I get up from the table and find that you did it anyway, I'm going to be very upset." But she still, as she listens to jed's other offering, a pensive look coming over her face as she considers, "What if, instead of using images of people, or well, animals, what if we used symbols themselves. Buddhism has tons of those. The wheel of dharma, the parasol, the wish-fulfilling jewel, the footprints. So does Hinduism. even Islam has them, I believe, things that you can focus on to the exclusion of everything else."
—-
The older man cackles delightedly at her insistant no, shoulders shrugging as he replies, "Yer loss, girl. Mr. Spock would make a powerful talisman indeed. T'ain't barely no one on this earth who don't know who and what he is!" Clucking to himself, Jed murmurs thoughtfully, "…powerful symbol, that dere Vulcan…." At her trecommendations, Jed hmmmms again and notes, "I t'ain't seen nuthin' in the wheel of dharma whut speaks to emotional control with any sort of specificity. If anythin' it be even more spread out and confusin', whut with each spokes and combinatins there of referin' to different paths and originations and whutnot." Frowning he continues, though he reaches for a book as he does so, confused. "I ain't seen nuthin' about parasols and bumbershoots bein' used fer anythin' other than protection from weather and symbols of power and importance. Don't see how that be doin yeh no good. Wish fullfillin' jewel? Too vague, darlin'. Y'can't just wish fer the pertection youse wants. It's got to be made in the ink and art. And again, footprints gots lots of meanin' and translations and I ain't heard a one of 'em bein' about emotional control." Folding his arms over his chest, Jed shrugs. "Personally I was going to suggest a crown as bein' yer best option. It symbolizes self-control and is a reminder to use power and authority wisely and justly. Sounds perfect t'me for givin' you both control over yer emotions and greater control over yer powers." Opening up the first book he had pulled down to the page marked, his right hand scans that page till he finds the passage he was looking for, reading aloud, "The symbol is one that gives an individual sawverenity over their life, their feelin's, thoughts and actions…"
—-
Paige shakes her head, her expression changing from amused, maybe even a bit playful, to serious, with just a hint of upset. And it comes out a bit in her voice, "I was just trying to give examples of symbols, not saying we should use those specific ones. But iconography is just, usually, more specific than an image that can be interpreted in a variety of ways, is all I'm saying. Because each icon speaks to a specific role or power of the deity." Paige pauses, looking down at the page, but, likely as not, not seeing anything that's there, the writing or the imagery. Once Jed starts to go over his thoughts on what should be used, she's just as happy to listen, and not to speak. Which, in this particular instance, seems like it might be the best course of action. Paige is just walking on the edge, at the moment.
—-
Frowning, Jed rumbles, "Don't you take that tone of voice wi'me, child. You ain't so old that I can't put yeh over my knee and give yeh a spankin'. Iffin' you be givin' my specific examples, then I be guessin' fairly that you mean them to be seggestions and specific examples of whut you wants." But as quickly as he berates her, he leans over to pat her knee gently. "Iffin' yeh wants sumthin' specific, darlin, all you gotta do is tells me. I been doin' research ever since you been in that damn hospital, and this is whut I come up with so far. But I ain't clever or educated like you is. So if I'm missin' sumthin, you need to tell plain as apple pie and straight up."
—-
"I don't do what you do, Jed, I can't do it. I never have been, so I have no idea how you pick and choose and invoke power in the tattoos you do. I mean, even with the tarot cards you mentioned, I never used those, but you can pick out a meaning for them, that much I do recall from Seattle. Like when you choose the card to represent the person you're doing the reading for." And it's really nothing at all to do with Jed, and everything to do with Paige, with the feeling of being so helpless, so confined, so hollowed out, until she could go crazy from it. "I like the crown, it's a beautiful symbol. And I'm not more educated than you, or more clever. I just have more book learning, maybe, but that's not going to help a wit in this instance. Besides, whatever I have in my head can't replace what you've got in your heart."
—-
Shaking his head, Jed corrects, "Research is research. T'ain't matter who does it - you, me, some joe half way 'round the world. T'ain't no difference." Leaning his crippled left arm on the table, Jed explains, "It don't matter where the inspiration comes from, Paigie. Whut matters is that the symbol has recognized meaning, that it means something to you, and that it reflects the goal of the spell." His hand reaches up, brushing the hair from Paige's brow as Jed explains, "The magic works best if it reflects what is in your head," his hand dropping down, fingers resting lightly over Paige's chest, "…what is in your heart. That's why I offer a number of diff'rent choices. You have to make the final choice."
—-
"Of course it matters. because you know how deeply the right symbol can affect oneone and the wrong one hurt them." But at least Paige has calmed down a bit, tucked away the thread of emotion that keeps trying to snake it's way out of her and strike out at whomever might be near enough to be in its path. "But I do like the crown. And my favourite symbol is the lotus. That's in the book here too." Paige ssits still, through Jed's lesson, but once she heard it, and not just heard it, but accepted it, she turns back to the book he gave her, flipping to the right page, "The growth of its pure beauty from the mud of its origin holds a benign spiritual promise." She skims down with her fingertip, "In the classical written and oral literature of many Asian cultures the lotus is present in figurative form, representing elegance, beauty, perfection, purity and grace, being often used in poems and songs as an allegory for ideal feminine attributes." Paige pauses, looking over at Jed, "And that's certainly something I could use. And no, I'm not talking about my looks, but I could certainly use some help in the grace and purity department." And that's no joke.
—-
Tilting his head to one side, Jed studies Paige quietly for a moment before murmuring softly, "Darlin. I know. I know you're scared and frustrated and angry and all those hard, confusin', mixed-up emotions. And rightfully so. You been done a wrong, and a biggun' too." But as she goes on to compliment the crown and mention the lotus, Jed smirks and notes, "Darlin', we're makin' you a protection spell, not a "I wanna hot date' spell…". Buuuuuuut, I suppose I could to a little somethin' with Lotus blossoms in there iffin' yeh wants it. Or a separate tattoo of one, jests so we don't mix our metaphors here and taint the first spell with the second. Magics can git confused if yer not careful."
—-
"I don't want to feel like this, Jed. I don't want to have to put on my happy face every day, when I just feel like going out and punching the first random person I meet in the face." Paige, in all honestly, is simply not a violent person. But she certainly feels like it now, "Oh, I don't care about that, the date or whatever. I was thinking more like…controlling yourself, like…you know, June Cleaver…always so perfect and elegant, and never raised her voice, or got angry, or just…always perfectly calm and perfectly controlled and…I guess that's what I think of." Paige gives the man sitting next to her a narrow-eyed look, "So stop trying to foist me off on the first buy under 30 you see. You can't get rid of me that easily." Strict and severe, with almost all of the humour contained. Just a little gets out, around her mouth.
—-
"Then don't. Nobody said you gotta be nice and friendly n'shit. Go down to the gym and punch a bag fer a bit. Or heck, if that's too much fer yeh to manage at the moment with yer ribs n'all, go to the Salvation Army, buy yerself a bunch of plates, and fling em down the down the stairs at the brick wall. My mama whut done that fer years to deal with the anger she have t'ward my paw. Done her a world o'good. Nuthin' like smashin' somethin' to git the anger outta a body. Better ugly plates than ugly mugs, lessin' they be the sort made outta china n'all." Snortin', Jed counters, "June Cleaver were a TV character, darlin'. T'ain't nobody like that, and iffin' there are? Then they be saints or they be holdin' it all in, jest waitin' fer the catalyst to make 'em blow like that them thar famous volanco, what it called, Mt. Vesusanous? T'my thinkin', everybody that seem sweet and peaceful got an outs somewheres, whether it be shootin' tin cans, kickin' cats, or throwin' china at the wall. Everybody gotta give at some point." His lips quirk wryly as Jed points out, "I ain't tryin' to git rid of yeh darlin, I'm just mekkin sure you don't waste yer life with an old coot like me."
—-
"I have to be though. All of these people coming to see me, asking questions, I have to be able to deal with them all, so that this can get done without me having to go out there and do something stupid." But she does perk up at the mention of plates, being mostly hopeless at physical combat herself. "You have any ugly plates now?" I mean, she can hope, the shop's been here for decades. Maybe someone traded dishware for some work done. Okay, probably not but still. "But just because she wasn't really doesn't mean that the idea isn't real. Look at all those movies with the southern ladies that are always cool and elegant. Whether or not they went back to their house and beat up a couple of servants afterwards or whatever, in the moment when they needed to be contained, they were. That's what I need."
—-
Shrugging, Jed returns, "Have at," gesturing toward the back staircase. "T'ain't like I can't replace whut I gots. None of it matches anyways. My point however is that iffin' you do sumthin' to pop your cork, you don't have t'worry s'much about losin' it when it counts. And if y'do, who the hell real cares? Who expects yeh to stay calm and friendly 'bout sumthin' like this?"
Paige does look, back towards the staircase that leads up to the apartment, but she doesn't rise to go and get the dishes. "Maybe I will, after. It's too hot now. I'd throw a few and then be all like, 'Wow, I need a nap.'" Truth to tell, she's been having issues with being by herself. One of the reasons she's rarely upstairs in the apartment at all, and usually puttering around in the shop, trying not to get in the way. And why she's at the apartment at all, instead of being back at her house. It's more about knowing she has someone around to run too, when the darkness gets too thick, than the more rational 'It's not hard to find out where I live and come for me there.' "I expect me too. That's why it's so important." But she's still interested in the work, and it's something productive. And productive isn't something she's been doing a lot of lately, "So where would you want to put it?"
—-
"Tuckerin' yourself out ain't such a bad thing neither. But you do whutever it is that you need t'do. Dont pay me nor nobody else no nevermind." He's about to turn back to his drawing when she asks the question, frowning slightly before rumbling, "Need to think about that some. Ideally? I'd do it on the crown of your head or on your brow. But I'm thinking the small of the back. It could be seen as the base of your emotions - where fear and strong emotions rise from. Course," he muses, reaching out with his right hand, Jed touches Paige on her back, between her shoulder blades. "Right here, over your heart chakra. Attractive positioning. Connected to the heart, the metaphorical source of emotions. Or perhaps a little lower," he notes, his finger dropping down to the spot between her heart chakra and the small of her back. "This is the manipura or some such. Deals with the adrenal glands and governs things like fear, anxiety and such. The transition from base emotions t'complex ones."
—-
"I've been trying that. But being tired doesn't help, I sleep and I still see everything like I did that night." Yeah, sleeping doesn't so much good when your dreams are all nightmares, "And it's just nicer to be awake. And to be useful." Even if it isn't really usefulness. After all, Jed hasn't spent 25 years working solo at the studio to suddenly up and need an assistant. But, he does seem to be indulging her, and she's grateful for it. Paige holds still, as Jed lays out the places he might put it, but the first gets a vehement shake of her head, "Not the face! Not even in white. The back I wouldn't mind so much, though. I wouldn't mind either. I mean, they both seem as though they have, or would serve the proper function." She does look over to the man, curiosity in her expression, "Would people be able to feel what was done, if they were in the know?"
—-
He's given all the advice he has to give on how to help, but other than throwing plates, none of it seems to suit Paige, so Jed doesn't pursue the dilema further. There's nothing he can do about it other than to let it, and Paige, run it's natural course. "Well, gettin' back to normal, doin' what yer used to, and keepin' busy always helps me from starin' at my navel too much, gittin' all up in the air about things I gots no control over." Chuckling, he rumbles, "Fret not, I ain't gonna touch yer pretty face none. No, I'm thinkin' the back. Less obvious and general like, lessin' you be wearin' a bathin' suit or nothin' a'tall, no one would be the wiser about it bein' there." He ponders the matter for a moment before reaching up and rubbing between her shoulders. "Here. It'll hurt a hell of a lot less than at the small and I think it make more sense." His head tilts at her question before Jed explains, "Normal like, in pertection magic, a talisman is made t'be worn or carried. Though always workin', it don't become actively magic til a situation arises. Even then, it t'ain't the tattoo what becomes magic, but yer very skin. Iffin' you wuz in a situation where you wuz in need of emotional cn'trl or focus, most like no one else would notice, cause it's you the spell is affectin', not thems. Other protection spells are more aggressive towards the other person, but even then it feels more like the magic be the bearer of the ink, rather than the ink itself."
And while there's no doubt that Paige has heard his advice, and likely, in time will accept it for what it is, at the moment, she's very much like the daughter Jed never had. Having a bit of a tantrum where nothing in the world seems to suit her. Very much like when she was about two, and her favourite word was 'No.'. But be that as it may, it isn't enough to turn Paige away from the man, not in the least. Because, like that two year old, she still wants the result that a 'yes' would bring, even if she won't say it. "Somehow, I can't imagine you staring at your navel. Now, sitting, looking off into the sky, maybe with a beer getting cold in your hand. Now that I could see." Many a beer have been so wasted. A smile, follows, though, at the touch, and the decision on where it should be placed and why. "I don't mind the pain." perhaps in other instances, but in this one, not so much. "Thank you. I honestly wasn't sure. I mean, for me, when I sense magic, it's usually because someone is doing the spell right then. The way I can see a light, because someone just turned the light on, but I might not have seen the bulb just before." But she won't lie, and continues, "But I'm relieved to know that they wouldn't be able to tell it wasn't my doing." She worries about the elder witch. "Quinn mentioned Solucis Coven, the one she belongs to, though I might even be interested in joining. Have you heard anything about them?" A moment, before, "You never joined a coven. Why?" At least he's never mentioned having been a part of one.
—-
Cracking a grin, Jed replies tartly, "Well, that's cause I ain't got no truck with self-pity and deep self-reflection. The sky is more than jest a mite bit prettier than my navel and far more rewardin' t'be starin' at. And iffin' there be a cold beer in m'hand? Well, then there ain't no cause for complainin' about nuthin." He pats Paige's back lightly with a soft chuckle as he notes, "Well, like I said b'fore, this protection is more against yer wilder nature than anyone else's. I doubt any one t'would sense it other than yerself, but it's hard t'know sometimes." One brow lifts as Jed ponders Paige's question, slipping off of his stool to wander toward the small fridge he keeps down in the store, opening it and pulling out a beer, snapping off the top on a stationary bottle opener before taking a swallow. "I don't truck with no rumors nor talk, so I can't rightly say I've heard anythin' either good or bad with regards to the Solucis witches. But you know me, Paige. I ain't a joiner. Grew up in a town full o'witches. That t'were enough 'company' to set me fer a lifetime. Nyyaaaah, I much prefer bein' on m'own."
—-
"I guess I've been feeling a bit of that lately, haven't I?" And maybe there is a little bit of feeling sorry for herself in there, but this is such a new situation for her, it's hard to tell. "Until your beer gets warm, and then you're mad all over again." Paige pushes back from the drawing table, moving to make room for Jed and his beer, moving her own books, the one's he's been giving her to look through, over to a smaller one off to the side. "I've always been on my own too. Most of my family was, and Nome has its fair share. I worked with one in Seattle though, for a little while. But I'm not really sure what they're fore, you know? I mean what can I get with them that i can't get on my own, aside from more phone numbers to call."
—-
"There's a difference between self-pity and been shook up," Jed offers in return lightly, clearly not holding it against Paige if she's more than a bit 'off' these days. She's got a right. "It's whut y'do over time that speaks to ones nature. If you sit and dwell and let whut's been get in the way of yer life, well, can't say I respect that choice." He glances at the bottle in his hand and grins, taking another swallow before pointing out, "If I'm a fool enough t'let m'beer gets warm, then I deserves whut I gets." Shrugging, Jed goes to stand by the open door of the shop, watching as kids set off poppers and firecrackers in the street before running away laughing. "Well, jest depends on the sorta person one is. Some people, they be joiners. And there's truth in the sayin' there be strength in numbers. Others I reckon they jest like to know they t'ain't alone. They like havin' other folk to talk about their magic with. T'ain't no difference between a stitch'n'bitch and a coven save you come out of gatherin's with new spells and such rather than a quilt or scarf. There's value in that. I jest made myself whut I am w'no help and a lot of harm from other's in my town. Guess that jest made me more trustin' of my own abilities than relyin' on the comfort and support of others, seein' as I didn't get much of either."
—-
"Is that what you did, Jed? Let what happen to you get in the way of your life?" Paige has never delved too deeply into Jed's life, and the man isn't much of a chatty cathy, when it comes to his past. And Paige has tried to respect that. But it would be a lie to say she hadn't tried to get him out there and around more people in the time since she's known him. Not a surprise, since she clearly thinks the world of him, and is sure everyone else should too. Cantankerous SOB or not. "I mean, are you happy here? Being alone like this, with only your niece to keep you company?" There's a moment, when she does rise, to go and join him at the door, looking out to see which kids it is. West Dallas is a struggling community, but it's still a community, and most of the residents of the neighbourhoods around these streets know each other. "But that's what I've got you for. Someone to talk to, ask questions, get support. I guess that's something." At least that's what Paige gets from Jed. The older man, well, she's still not sure. "I did offer Quinn crochet, but she looked about ready to take my head off." Paige, oddly enough, loves needlework of any kind.
—-
Eyes narrow at Paige's question, but the grizzled man answers cryptically, "Sometimes the earth b'neath yer feet heaves and bucks. A river knows when to change its course. The trees know when t'bend rather than break." Taking a deep swallow from his bottle, Jed wipes his mouth off against his tattooed arm and chuckles. "I'm happy right wheres I am, girl. If I wasna, I wouldn't be here. T'ain't my way t'do what I don't wants to. Y'call me alone, but that ain't the way of it. I've got m'friends, m'customers, lots of 'em repeaters. I'm far from alone and when I is, that's cause I chooses it, not nobody else. Don't you ever think other." Turning to study Paige's face, Jed chuckles and rumbles, "You go bring this friend, Quinn of yers over next time y'see her. Sounds like I woman I'd like t'meet."
—-
Paige turns, studying the man standing beside her in the door way, "I love you, Jed." The rest of that goes unsaid, but would probably be something like, 'that's why I'm being such a nosey nancy'. "You're my family, and I only want you to be happy. And if you say you are, then I'll accept that." 'Course, she might still steer potentially eligible woman in Jed's direction, but hey…don't judge her. "I think you'd like her. She seems a lot like you. Doesn't let too many people get close, doesn't trust people's intentions. Doesn't seem to have much use for friends. Offered to try to teach her some simple elemental spells, when I can do them again."
—-
There are shadows in those eyes, secrets from the past that he keeps counsel with in private alone, and as such Jed says nothing more than, "I've found my path, Paigie, and I'm more than content with the course of it. I love you too, but leave t'past where it belongs. In the past. T'ain't relevant no more." Stepping out into the sunshine, Jed plops himself down in one of the chairs set up in front of his building and stretches his legs out all lazy like. "Huh. Not sure why I bother'd openin' up today. Had a funny feelin' this mornin', like there was someone commin' that I wouldna want to miss." Scratching his head, Jed shrugs and takes a pull on his bottle and drawls, "Well, wouldna be the first time I wuz wrong." Peering up at Paige, Jed waves his hand and grouses, "Go on, girl. Git. Y'been sulkin' round the place long enough. Go git some sunshine, shoot some firecrackers, go t'the parade. It's the 4th. Celebratin' freedom. T'ain't sumthin' we should be takin' lightly. Go on, git."
—-
"Well, Even if you have, I'll be here to help you along when you leave." Paige steps aside, leaving Jed to make himself comfortable, as he admonishes her to go out and enjoy the warmth and sun of the day ebfore it fades. She even goes in, to pick up the bag of fireworks she bought for herself a few weeks ago, in anticipation of the day to come. "I tend to trust feelings like that." But she doesn't run off right away, instead turning back to look at him. "But I can't leave you here all alone Jed. Just sitting in the sun and the quiet by your lonesome." And then, an impish smile, and for a little while at least, she's the little girl she was, and perhaps a bit of the woman she used to be, as she goes digging into her bag, pulling out a small box of cherry bombs. And a single sparkler, which she lights, and holds out for him to take. If he doesn't, she'll just stick it in the dirt in one of the cracks next to his chair. "I'll call you when I'm on my way back." And with that, she heads off, down the alley and into the street. past the building next door and she's gone.
