Vertigo (VivifiedVanityxSeven)

RE: Vertigo

Any tenative progression on Jackson's part was soundly halted when Lisa slipped in front of him; it was clear enough that she had been asleep as well - her eyes were slightly swollen, her hair was unkempt, and her clothes were rumpled. It was an ungodly hour for anyone to be awake, so the room was unsupplied with natural light, and yet, through the bizarre haze, he found himself rolling a thought around in his head: even in the dull, unflattering yellow tinge of the motel room lighting, Lisa could not be made to look unappealing.

"I need to go outside." Jackson replied after a spell of silence, eyes flicking away from her when she held his head in place, looking at the wall, the ceiling, and the door, and finding that the rapid glances were making him moderately dizzy; sleeping was allegedly meant to make him feel better, yet he somehow felt as though he had been run over by a truck in his sleep.

"I feel like I need to go outside." he re-affirmed, reaching out and grasping the headboard a second time to stop himself from wavering on the spot.
 
RE: Vertigo

The idea she'd had for coffee went completely out the window at his response, and her already pallid morning complexion paled even more at what Jackson had just suggested. One hand remained firmly on his chin, her eyes watching his flit around the room, whilst the other quickly stroked the top of his head a few times. It was a soothing gesture despite the rapid desperation of it, and a small attempt to bring his attention back to her. "No, no, no, you need to sit back down..." She knew inside that something had gone terribly wrong, but her still sleep-fuddled mind hadn't quite keyed in to what yet... She waited until he'd regained his balance before she reached out, untangling his thin fingers from the headboard while her other arm wrapped around him a little ways; she was offering an exchange in support for what she'd just taken from him. Placing his hand that had once been holding to the headboard on her own shoulder she was forcing him to find the support in his wavering balance in her, and it was then that she remembered what she'd done last night. Shit... She'd drugged him; they'd been sedatives, drugs intended to bring the body down... to settle it... but it...

It was the only cause she could think of for this. Whatever colour was left in Lisa's already pale complexion disappeared, and her mouth dropped open slightly, eyes fixating on his face. She'd drugged him, and now he was... high? No, it couldn't be that. It had to be something else.

Maybe the morphine was still working its way through his system, and this was just one of the phases. Maybe it... Shit.

"The both of us just need to stay inside for a while, and besides, you had enough outside time yesterday... Just sit back down, lay your head back against the pillow... close your eyes, and see where that takes you. Maybe then the room will stop spinning..." her tone was different this time; her words coming slowly, and attempting to further lull him into at least a state of calm. If she was spot on with what was going on inside of him, she had a feeling that keeping him somewhat relaxed was a rather of imperative importance. With one of his hands held against her shoulder, and his other incapable of grabbing anything in reach other than her, Lisa's own hold on Jackson tightened as she sat down, giving him little option other than to either sit down with her or to be forced to fall back ungracefully onto the bed.
 
RE: Vertigo

"We've been inside for a while," Jackson replied; he could feel Lisa trying to gently redirect him, her movements persistant despite the outward air of passiveness - it was the sort of ambiguity that drove Jackson a little up the wall every time.

"The only place that laying down will take me is right here," he added, an uncharacteristic frustration sliding into his tone, courtesy of the drugs in his system - for all of his resistance to viruses and colds, Jackson's ability to cope with foreign substances in his bloodstream was abysmal, particularly when he was oblivious to the fact they were even in his system.

Regardless of his protests, Lisa put an arm around him and forced him back to the bed, where he sat with an expression that was likely to win the Most Unimpressed Hitman of the Year award; there was an evident tension in his face, around the way his mouth was a thin line and because of the strain in his jaw - cabin fever was already effecting him, as he was unaccustomed to staying one spot for any length of time, particularly in a spot with a bed. A bed he was expected to actually fall asleep in for longer than an allotted time of seven hours. It wasn't sitting well with him.
 
RE: Vertigo

The hand holding his to her shoulder left his; he was sitting now, she didn't have to worry about him latching on to the headboard in an attempt to keep himself upright. "Yes, but you were out and about yesterday, for most of the day..." The hand on his back lifted, her warm palm rubbing between his shoulder blades, "Right here is the best place for you to be for a while." Lisa pulled away from him and stood, her eyes finding his face, and their gaze was narrowed in warning. She didn't balk at the expression that covered his face, and she didn't flinch or shy away from the mild frustration that seemed to radiate from him. She'd seen him mad to the point of mindlessness before, his feathers ruffled, his displeasure enough to keep anyone around him at a safe distance -- him simply being frustrated was almost pleasant in comparison. "I don't know how better to explain to you how important it is for you to take it easy..." She murmured before heading into the bathroom; she didn't close the door behind herself as she only sought the use of the mirror. Maybe it was a good idea to simply keep him drugged for as long as she could...

Her fingers were running through her hair, fixing, straightening, doing what she could for her early morning appearance.

There had to be an all-hours coffee shop somewhere nearby... Her teeth were next, and fishing her toothbrush from the cabinet proved the perfect excuse on top of that to fish out that little bottle of pills. Multitasking rather gracefully, the pills found there way securely down the front of her shirt due to a severe lack of pockets on her person while her teeth were being cleaned. Emerging through the bathroom, she ran one last hand through her hair, "There's a sandwich in here for you if you get hungry later... or if you're hungry now...." She ventured, and on her path around the room she paused at the fridge, her hand touching to the top of it.

Lisa was feeling an odd sort of disconnect at this point; she knew what had to be done, knew what he needed to an extent, and understood both the severity and the limitations that their present situation provided... Her goal-oriented mind had fixated those needs as what she needed to do or get for him.

It was a distraction for her, one that kept her away from dwelling on both where they were and why.

That distraction was probably the sole reason she hadn't fallen apart in some way. "I'm going to go and get that coffee... while you are going to stay here and do nothing," Her eyes found him again with that warning ice of theirs, though it was softened over by how groggy she still was... and by how groggy he still seemed to be. The expression that he greeted her with when he'd woken up flashed across her mind, and her own hardened one softened even more. She found herself looking away quickly, flustered almost, with her hands absently smoothing her shirt over her skirt even though it needed no such fixing... Not now anyway.
 
RE: Vertigo

Uncharacteristic frustration roiled somewhere just beneath the relative calm; having spent the entirety of his life being independent, the idea of staying in place because Lisa told him to was baffling - even if it was for his own good.

So he said nothing, he simply sat on the bed and peered up at her through the mess of his bangs, wishing his head wasn't so fuzzy so that he could at least formulate a relatively intelligent response, but it felt as though a clamp had been placed on his intelligence right then. He watched Lisa smooth her clothes out, an effort towards normalcy that was almost amusing given their circumstances.

"Stay and do nothing," Jackson repeated flatly, "Great."

He went so far as to give her a thumbs up, expression riddled with sarcasm just before she stepped out the door - and moments after it closed, he was forcing himself to his feet. Lisa might have been right that he shouldn't travel far in his condition, but he would be damned if he had to be accompanied every time he wanted to shower.
 
RE: Vertigo

Before Lisa was even out of the door, she knew... She wasn't so daft as to think that Jackson would sit there quietly... like a good little boy... while she was out. The one thing she hadn't thought out was how quickly Jackson would be up; maybe if she'd been more attentive to the mood he was in or the sarcasm that little gesture had held... Lisa took in the chilled morning air slowly as she stood in front of the door in a sort of pause. It didn't matter. He'd be trying to get up even if she'd stayed behind unless she watched over him nearly every moment he was awake. Maybe that was why she was so willing to stoop to the level she was. Drugging him. She fidgeted further into the coat she'd pulled from the chair while exiting, her fingers stumbling tiredly over the buttons. Her cell phone had been left behind simply because it would do her no good even if she had it on her, as too had the knife been left, both on opposite night stands. One had been intentional -- the knife, and the other had been more accidental -- her phone. She could have bothered to go to the front desk and ask for directions, but to be honest, she wanted as much time away from that little room as she could manage without simply wandering aimlessly. Right now she had a direction, a goal, and a reason for going outside of 'coffee'.

The pills hidden away in her blouse rattled softly beneath the fabric as she fell into a quick stride towards the empty street, and she soon moved them to a coat pocket. It didn't take her long to find a cafe, even one that was open at the ungodly hour that it was. There was one only a few blocks away, and she'd probably chosen this direction because she'd caught a glimpse of it on the way to the motel. Tired, worn out, and with a frustrating patient waiting for her back in the room she would soon return to, all of this read clearly on her face as she stepped into the surprising warmth of that little establishment... and it was only as she stepped up to the counter to place her order that she realized that she'd forgotten to ask Jackson how he even took his coffee...

She found herself staring wide-eyed at the woman behind the counter for an uncomfortable moment as the realization settled on her that she was only focusing on the little things right now, and stubbornly refusing to look at the bigger picture of things. This wasn't her. Lisa Reisert wasn't the woman who was staring at the pretty little thing behind the counter; it was someone entirely different. Someone who had lost her focus, someone who was so scatter-brained at the moment that it was almost laughable. She was trying to be two people... trying to worry about, and care for two separate people.

And it was finally wearing on her, amongst everything that was going on... only because it was him.

Lisa was out of the room for maybe thirty minutes; even after she'd found herself not directly going to the room and... whatever lay waiting for her within... but instead dropping into the laundry room around back. It'd seemed the best place, and the cleanest place to do what she needed to do.

Smash the pills up, mix them in with his coffee, and keep him down for a few more hours. It wasn't a great plan, and it went against the basic principles of her character, but then again so did where she was, what she was doing here, why she was here, and who she was with. It was excusable to her, because she was doing what she had to do, and doing what Jackson needed done... She would deal with his feelings towards the matter when and if he found out. Hopefully, though, it wouldn't come to dealing with that, and that silent prayer had been on her mind as she'd exited the laundry room and at last returned to that uncomfortable motel room. Her coat was over her arm as she entered, and she struggled with the key and the door whilst she juggled the two styrofoam cups of coffee.

"I hope you like your coffee black. If not there are sugar packets in one of the cabinets, and we can make it somewhat drinkable..." She voiced, stalling for time almost until she managed to finally free the key from the door and close and latch it once more.

Once her coat had been returned to arm of the loveseat, her hazels dared to search for Jackson as if to assess the state he was in, what he'd done while she'd been gone, and how much he'd drained himself in that time. She did all of this while making her way across the room, almost coldly, rattled still from the morning and the brief bit of thinking she'd allowed herself while she'd been out. Why was she allowing herself to be so worried about him? Was it only because he was providing her with a distraction from the seriousness of the situation they were in? She made a face at the wall that displayed how unhappy she was with that answer now; it simply wasn't good enough. Fingers drummed at the side of both cups before she turned around, leaning against the counter's edge as she raised her own cup to her lips. Her eyes stared over the edge of that cup towards Jackson, unblinking in their gaze, and with a bit of that displeasure still lingering within their depths.
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson's hands were pressed into the cold ceramic tiles in front of him; hot water poured through his hair and trailed down his back, moved over sore arms and through the trenches created by muscle and scar. His hair fell in his face and clung to his cheekbones, his eyes closed as he focused on his body, making a mental checklist.

Everything still ached, but in a strangely distant way; his leg throbbed with the pain of torn tissue and pulled muscle and the trauma in his chest burned, a feeling that intensified in the heat of the shower.

But his concern was his head; he had woken up feeling vaguely like he had been on a bender the previous night.

He rubbed a hand against his face, pushing his palm against his eyes, trying to get the sensation of sleep from them; he had improved since waking up, his mind was clearer, but he felt as though he couldn't fully shake the sluggishness.

Maybe he was even more tired than he'd thought.

Maybe he was losing his touch.

Maybe coffee would help.

Thankfully, he made it out of the shower without any disastrous results, though his leg nearly gave out on him halfway through the bathroom, he managed to get a hand on the sink to regain his balance - his reflection looked back at him in the bathroom mirror and he turned away from it, sick of seeing it.

He dressed the wound on his leg first before he made his way back to sit on the edge of the bed, dressed from the waist down. He shoved his hand back through his hair to push his hair from his face before he picked up the roll of bandaging beside him to tend to the wounds on his chest -

- only, his broken fingers were making it difficult.

Extremely difficult.

Frustratingly difficult.

In fact, by the time Lisa returned, embarrassingly, he still hadn't managed to secure it, and he avoided her eyes when she stepped in, his bad hand pressing the bandaging to his side in an attempt to hold it up while his other attempted to maneuver the mass of cloth around his torso.

It was not a functional method.

He could normally do this.

"Black is fine," Jackson replied, tone a bit sharp out of a defensive sheepishness; he caught it, however, adding, "Thank you."
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's hazels didn't soften any, but her slender brows lifted curiously while she watched Jackson for a moment. Closing her eyes, she lowered the cup from her lips and set it on the small counter behind herself as a slow sigh passed from her. He'd said thank you, probably to make up for the bite in his tone before... and it had stirred to life a sort of guilt in her. She turned away from him, looking to those two cups as she lingered against the small counter. "You're welcome..." Lisa managed somewhat distantly.

She was justified in what she was doing, what he'd been up to while she was gone... and with the mood he was in now... It was that it was morally wrong, and even with Jackson being the one in that picture.... With everything he'd been willing to do...

Pushing away from the counter, she headed over to the bed. His hair was damp still, enough so that those small strands tried to cling to whatever they touched, and while he was only half dressed... this didn't make her as uncomfortable as it would have before. She was put at more unease by his injuries themselves. ...And besides, she'd seen him in less. Her hands reached for his, Lisa's little touches and pets she often started things like this with strangely vacant from the situation. She'd debated leaving him to his own devices this time, and going as far as to leave his coffee on the counter for him to be forced to get up and get it himself... and with how difficult Jackson was with all of this, he would let her push him like that until something finally gave out probably without realizing.

She knelt down a little ways, her hands reaching for his, attempting to gently take over wrapping his bandages, attempting to finish what he couldn't on his own. She kept her eyes carefully from him, hazels locked on both his hands and the bandages they held to, and even with that their gaze wasn't quite accusing towards the fact that he'd both been up, out of bed, and had busied himself doing one of the many things he should not have been expelling himself on... Overall, she remained quiet about that; she didn't scold him, didn't glare at him, and she didn't voice a complaint. Instead, she only posed one question, though the question itself perhaps a bit delayed from when it should have been asked...

"Did you sleep well?"
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson Rippner could not recall a time in his life in which he had relied on anyone but himself; even during previous times when he had been injured, he had managed to complete any task that needed to be completed, had managed to lick his own wounds without ever needing any -

- help.

In the past, he had kept going after being stabbed, shot, and beaten - hell, he had gone on after Lisa had done all of the above to him in one sitting.

So suddenly being physically incapable of putting a bandage around his chest was disturbing - even his unbroken hand didn't seem to be obeying him properly, his reflexes felt sluggish. Something was wrong, he was aware of that much, but he couldn't attribute it to anything except his injuries.

Lisa's expression made it clear she was displeased with his efforts, but she said nothing, potentially because she had already said everything she could: she wanted him to stop moving, to hold still and heal, and not do anything until the pain went away. He wasn't okay with that. They were at a crossroads and neither of them were willing to budge on it, but Lisa had the discretion not to bring it up right then.

Instead, she knelt down and began to quietly help him finish dressing the wounds.

Did you sleep well?

Jackson watched the wall directly beside Lisa's head, partly unable to meet her eyes out of the grim knowledge that he had somehow become incapable of doing things a child would be able to do.

"I don't remember closing my eyes." he replied; he had slept like the dead.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's hazels flicked up to his face at his response, but the gaze was distant in those eyes. She should have felt guilty because of it -- partially because she knew part of the reason he'd dropped off so, but she didn't. She felt justified. Her attention remained focused primarily on what her hands were doing, and so those eyes didn't linger upon his face for long -- they hadn't needed to anyway. What she saw on those increasingly familiar features reminded her exactly why she was so exhausted. She had the feeling that in a day or so, those feelings of exhaustion would manifest themselves by way of her wanting to smother him in his sleep with a pillow. From the look she saw on his face, and by how eerily still he was while he allowed her to do for him what he actually couldn't manage... She also had the feeling that he would probably share those sentiments. Her eyes had dropped back down to follow the careful motions of her fingers while they smoothed out his wrappings, and the faint smile that kissed against her lips revealed to anyone actually privy to that thought that it was mostly light in nature; nothing she thought would actually be carried through.

The smile remained while slender brows rose, "From how you say that, I suppose you normally don't fall asleep like that...?"

She finished with his bandages while she asked this, and the question she'd put out there was light, aimless... It wasn't as urgent or demanding as the others she'd been asking him, it was more relaxed... Lisa was speaking to fill the void of silence that often lingered between them -- that she'd learned would linger between them, with something to ease herself. Her posture straightened itself, and she stood there a moment, managing to resist the urge to stroke her fingers through his hair while her eyes latched onto the bed similar to how his had found the wall.

Eventually... she moved though, returning to the small counter. She fished through the tiny fridge without much thought, pulling out the sandwich that still hadn't been eaten to bring that to him as well as his coffee. If not for the history between them that made this whole situation strangely comical, and if not for the almost hopeless state Jackson's body had been left in... and the reality that their situation was a whole was so very precarious...

The moment Lisa had fallen into was almost normal -- at least for her. Something she'd share with someone at work, or with someone on the rare occasion they came to her place... or even something one shared with her father. She wasn't altogether comfortable with how easily she'd fallen into that with him.

One hand gripped his paper coffee cup by both its lip and lid while the other cradled the plastic-wrapped sandwich. Not the best meal for someone who'd not eaten in however-many days by this point, but it was something... "Here..." Lisa didn't offer them to him, but instead, sat them both on the nightstand beside him -- it was her way of giving him a sort of permission to finish dressing his own wounds... She was careful as she placed the items down -- careful mostly of the wooden box she'd left untouched since she'd first set it there the night before, and it was now that her gaze caught on that item and she drew a pause.

There were things the two of them needed to discuss, future plans, intentions... putting themselves on the same page with one another, but for now...

With what she'd bothered to put in his drink, she wasn't about to bring any of that up now. She needed something to distract him until the sleeping pills had him firmly in their embrace... Her arms crossed in front of herself as she turned, facing him slightly, "Would you like to watch a movie...?" She knew he could probably keep himself occupied in the time lapse he wasn't aware of, between him actually drinking his coffee and those pills working their magic, but for obvious reasons she wasn't going to unleash him on his knives... or any other task he'd probably set himself to if left to his own devices... And if she recalled right, she had quite a few saved to her phone for when she had to travel. As if their situation wasn't comical enough...
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa was trying to make small talk; in the context of his job, Jackson had learned how to ease into the role of a normal, average human being and he had been capable of upholding the pretense for the duration, but outside of the job - well, outside of the job meant he hadn't done any prep work. It meant he hadn't carefully picked out topics to segue into or planned responses and reactions to exacting scenarios; it meant he would have to respond based on his current thoughts rather than meticulously planned ones.

Even though it was Lisa he was dealing with, he still felt out of his element; one didn't become good in his field by being a social butterfly, they did it by doing the job right, and a life of planning social interaction instead of actually engaging in it didn't leave one feeling particularly extroverted.

But his resistance to actual conversation seemed to be something that annoyed Lisa - and though he wasn't sure when her comfort with him had ever been particularly relevant, he found himself acknowledging that, on some level, he didn't want her to be annoyed. Perhaps because it simply made things easier if she was, at the very least, neutral.

"It always takes time," Jackson replied, feeling a bit stupid, talking about his sleeping habits, "This was more like someone turned off a switch, rather than turned down a dial."

He could deal in metaphors.

But the change was concerning; he was aware enough of his body to recognize that an alteration in something as basic as his sleep was something to be wary of.

He observed Lisa moving around the room, eventually proferring coffee and a sandwich; again, Jackson found himself acknowledging how long it had been since he'd had a meal, but his body gave no indication of being hungry - however, he knew it was because he had gone beyond the point of actually being capable of feeling the need for food, he had pushed his body for so long that functions like the sensation of hunger were no longer considered priority, his blood sugar so low that his physical facilities were winding down to only what he needed to be able to get on his feet. Humans were capable of going seven days without food; by Jackson's count, he had gone three, and anything he'd had before that had been supplied through hospital I.Vs and whatever liquids he had bothered with - in the last two weeks, he had lost weight he couldn't physically bear to lose, and he was sadly aware of it.

And for some reason, despite her having seen him almost naked, and cleaning his wounds and petting his hair through a fever, being offered a meal by Lisa was somehow the most difficult thing to abide, and the instinctive urge was to refuse, to insist he didn't need her help, and to be what he knew was completely idiotic about a situation that couldn't be helped. Instead, he said what he knew was the intelligent thing to do, the fact-based, logical thing to do:

"Thank you." he said again, deciding that his best bet was to start with the coffee; he picked it up with his good hand and though he had traditionally had coffee every day, after not having it for a few weeks, the smell was incredibly strong. His stomach signalled that it was unhappy with the smell, but he ignored it, taking in a mouthful of it - and it tasted just as bitter as it smelled, not like any coffee he'd had before, with something nearly chemical about it, but he reminded himself that most of his facilities would be off to begin with, he couldn't rely on his sense of taste for much of anything right there, especially not with his blood sugar as low as it was.

He looked up from the cup when Lisa asked the question, his expression forming into something that looked vaguely confused.

He hadn't watched a movie since -

- since - ?

He couldn't remember watching a movie.

Jackson looked towards the television that sat across the room from them; he wasn't sure he could even operate it.

"Alright." he said finally, almost warily.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa had seemed to stop at Jackson's answer; she hadn't expected him to answer her at all, at least not that in depth -- not about something so trivial as to how he often fell asleep. And so her expression was almost unreadable; a strange blend of disbelief and something else... but it didn't last long though. Slightly parted lips quickly closed, and she pulled her gaze away from him; that disbelief had lingered with her only until his next answer, which brought her back to life in a way. She switched gears to find the remote for the television. She checked his nightstand, but she moved away from it to retrieve her own coffee when she turned up nothing but a bible... A strange contradiction when put in the context of what the room was most often used for... There was a strange irony in that, just like this entire situation...

It was almost satirical. Maybe it was all just a strange dream. Maybe this was the latest manifestation her dreams had taken on. She smiled at that thought -- knowing it was nothing more than that. This was real; it was no dream, even with as backwards as it all was. Picking her coffee from the counter on her way around the room, she progressed to check the nightstand on her side of the room for the remote and found it.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she glanced towards Jackson and her smile almost returned.

It was the way he'd looked at the television; was that a relaxed sort of uncertainty she saw there? Her head tilted down, attempting to hide the expression a little ways while she used the remote to turn on the television with one hand; her other hand busied itself with sitting her own pillow up against the headrest as a cushion.

It didn't take her long to sort out which channel was the scrolling channel guide for this television, and after finding it she set about setting up the pillow on Jackson's end of the bed for him. "So what sort of movies do you like...?" She'd curled up on the bed a little ways, the remote beside her, legs pulled in neatly beside herself with his pillow on her lap as she fluffed it; her question had been almost knowing, perhaps a subconscious recollection from bits of the things he'd said the first night they were here -- or maybe even her own conclusions and guesses, coupled with the way he'd looked at the television... Her hands worked quickly, in an almost practiced way -- understandable given her profession -- smoothing out his pillow before propping it up against the headrest for him.

He was a distraction for her. A distraction she'd suddenly forgotten was supposed to be simply that... a distraction.

The tone behind what she'd asked him had very nearly been nosy, but it was saved from being a rude sort of nosy with how innocent of a question it was -- which shifted it from nosy to... almost interested. And while it would have been understandable for Lisa to offer genres after her question, or to even voice her own favourites to help him along... she didn't. If what she thought she had seen was indeed real... she didn't want to lead him along with his answer.
 
RE: Vertigo

One of Jackson's brows lofted at the sight of a bible in the bedside stand; his career had him often staying in hotels, so it was pretty standard to have one in the room, but like Lisa, he found some small irony in there being one in a love hotel - but then, he supposed, some people were into that sort of thing.

He sat himself back against the headboard, steaming coffee still held in his good hand while the two unbroken fingers of his left hand played at the rim of it; briefly, he felt Lisa's eyes on him, but he decided not to meet her gaze when she asked the next question. Despite the innocence of it, there was something oddly personal - it was a question frequently asked in social situations, one of those details that you were supposed to just know about other people if you had met them more than a handful of times. It was all a part of the details and quirks and preferences that made other people -

- well, That made them people.

And Jackson could only sit in silence for a long moment after she had asked it; it even seemed he might not answer as he rolled it around in his head - he should know the answer. It shouldn't have taken more than an instant for him to think of one, but he couldn't think of a single, reasonable response.

Finally, when he did speak, his mouth was twisted slightly at the corner in some indecipherable expression,

"I don't know." he said finally, "I don't watch movies. I haven't watched movies."

He had caught glimpses of things in passing of course, but he couldn't have told her what the title was, what it was about, or who acted in it - he just couldn't recall a time where he had sat down and watched a movie.
 
RE: Vertigo

In the silence that stretched, Lisa's eyes had flicked back to the television, watching the channels scroll. If her question had been of a more serious note, the duration of that silence would have been almost awkward... but because of her question it was quite telling... Even with Lisa's busy schedule, she still had time to sit down and watch the occasional movie -- sometimes as a late night reward for surviving a stressful week at work, and sometimes just as a brief outing with her friends...

Jackson... didn't have an answer, at least not an immediate one, and because he wasn't answering... She knew he was trying to form one... and so when his answer did come, the answer itself didn't so much surprise her as the fact that he'd bothered to answer her at all. She turned back to him, eyes studying him, looking for some sign of disheartened remorse or icy defensiveness... or something, but instead, nothing so cut and dry was visible. He'd answered her, simply and directly, as he always seemed to, and lapsed into silence afterward. She let her own silence span, letting his answer settle on her in that space, letting her own feelings towards it wrap around it and take it in... He'd tried to answer. Which meant that the him not knowing his own preferences towards something as trivial as a favored movie genre wasn't firmly backed by a dislike of movies in general... It wasn't that she herself was some outlandish movie buff, but watching something so simple was so very basic to normal, everyday life... For a fleeting instant, she wanted to curl up beside him and introduce him to those things, but that thought didn't linger, chased away by the reasons she knew to be behind this lack of exposure...

Lisa smiled, and refused to let that thought latch hold of her just as she was pleasantly trying to forget the real reason she wanted to sit down and have him watch something in the first place... with her. To drug him... Shifting along the bed, her back found its rest against the headboard as her legs stretched out and crossed themselves comfortably. The smile still lingered on her lips, "Alright... We'll just have to find something that you'd like..." she was almost gentle with how she stated this.

Her smile wasn't a teasing one, and she didn't laugh or poke fun at the answer he'd given her -- much as she hadn't when he'd actually asked what he should be doing on that first night when she'd wrapped her arms around him in an attempt at comfort...

Lisa did away with letting the guide scroll, now finding it somewhat useless. A few of the movie titles she recognized herself, but a good number of them she did not -- and it was drawing near to that section of broadcasting she preferred to pretend didn't exist. Wouldn't that be laughable if he preferred that sort of programming...

"Just... stop me when something looks interesting," She ventured, beginning to slowly flip through the channels -- she was giving each one a comfortable amount of time, though maybe a little longer than she would have needed. She'd been looking at the television herself as she said this, but her attention shifted from that device across the room from them, her head tilting forward a little ways as her eyes found him in a sort of... apprehensive curiosity...

The first channel had been some sort of comedic romance movie -- she didn't recognize the exact title, but the main character was an overdone blond of sorts that appeared to have maybe a handful of screws loose despite an apparent attempt to portray the character as 'intelligent.' The next was a rerun of an old Doctor Phil episode -- not a movie, but Lisa would have choked on the irony of that had she not been so distracted on Jackson himself... She didn't give that channel long before moving on to another, one that seemed to be a detective or police based movie... The reason for her attention towards him became clear when she finally found the will to voice her next question, "What is it that you do when you've..." a pause due to the search for subtle wording and her eyes finding the television screen -- another romance movie lurked on the next channel, "time off...? Do you have any hobbies or pastimes? Things you do to unwind from a..." A hard day at work?

Her attempts at making what Jackson did seem normal -- seem safe -- could only stretch so far from what she knew his reality to be, "Do you read at all...? Go out to a usual night spot... Something, anything to take the edge off from the day-to-day grind?" Each question came slowly, and with the extreme care placed behind it for it to not sound accusing -- not to sound like she was trying to force him to waste his time with such trivial doings, that he needed to, or that it would be weird if he did not.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa was still watching him and from his peripheral vision he could see her expression shaping into something like curiosity - when it came to social situations, Jackson knew he was something of an oddity, as his experience with what would be considered normal life was based around the jobs he had done in the past, during those times where he had to get to know a target by engaging them in deep conversation, or tail them at raucous night clubs. In all, he had no consistent experiences, not enough to say he had a preferred setting or that he even had something like a hobby.

He watched images flick by on the screen; a ditzy blonde broke the heel of her shoe and shrieked on the street about how expensive it was, a tired-looking cop threw back scotch in a dank pub, and bald man with a thick moustache was telling a girl to stop smoking crack - three minutes in and Jackson already felt as though he was losing brain cells.

He finally looked at her when she asked her next question, and again he was forced to consider his answer,

"I run." he said finally; in the background, a woman sobbed about how her husband didn't love her anymore and the television cast light on the sides of their faces, highlighting Lisa's eyes and low-lighting the cuts and hollows on Jackson's face. He tried to shrug, but his chest protested to the motion, so he stopped mid-way, "One job leads into another, and I don't do days off."

The channel changed again, and a man was screaming hysterically, trying to get out of a metal contraption that was strapped around his neck; Jackson peered at the television, eyebrows dipping downwards in a perplexed expression.
 
RE: Vertigo

"You run..." Lisa echoed softly. Her hazels had met his expectantly when he'd looked to her, and she'd found herself forgetting the television across the way even though her thumb still dutifully flicked through the channels. He wasn't allowed to be human. She'd never allowed him to be so when she'd dwelt on the subject of him, or feared his coming after her... or wondered exactly where he was when she'd been violently awoken by one of her night terrors with her on the receiving end of his knife... but now...

Unfortunately, he was becoming so. At least to her. He didn't seem bothered by his dedication to his job, and if he'd had any other profession it would have been simply that. He would have been just like her... but his job was different. What he did was a dark, disgusting thing that normal people weren't allowed to soil their hands with, and while she should have found herself glad at his matter-of-fact answer, happy that he didn't try for better. That he was resigned to a profession that would ultimately be the end of him in a way far more gruesome than she could even fathom... and that he deserved that fate because of what he chose to do with himself... Lisa found herself strangely saddened. Saddened that he had no reprieve from that darkness... no day off... No distractions. No hobbies, interests, or probably even passions... He just had his work. One job, leading to another, and then another, and then another... and so on and so forth until he finally found his last job. Or more correctly, until it found him. It was his matter-of-fact tone that made the strings that were pulling her heart heavily downward pull even harder. He should have been bothered.

A normal person would be bothered. A normal person would know to be bothered. A normal person would -- Was that screaming?

She registered Jackson's expression before she even looked to what was on the television screen; she'd been studying him as she mulled over his answer, taking in every cut and scar that marred exposed flesh with her flickering gaze that tried its best to remain unobtrusive -- never lingering on anything long enough to draw attention to what she was doing without her even realizing it. It was the eerie lighting of the television that was bringing them out. They all had stories. They all were jobs that could have gone wrong... It was when she actually turned towards the television her expression shifted, becoming drawn and outwardly disgusted as if one holding back bile.

"Oh gosh, not this..." She murmured, head tilting back as she looked hastily away from the television screen. She hadn't changed the channel, however. A voice had started to calmly explain to the screaming man the need-to-know about his current... predicament... and how to escape it.

"Saw, I think..." Lisa offered helpfully, "The name of the movie, I mean..." She swallowed, clearly bothered, and decided that following her own face in the mirror above wasn't much better than watching the television at this point. Using the mirror to guide her hand, it found the back of Jackson's head as she rose up to her knees and fished out where the roll of bandages had been left and forgotten. "It's... well... You'll see..." She dared, settling back on her knees beside him. It was clear from her apparent disgust that this sort of movie wasn't her cup of tea. ...The man on the television screen had started panicking... And at as she heard the device around his neck snap itself closed when the ticking counter ran down Lisa cringed, eyes closing tightly as her jaw tensed despite her eyes having already been averted.

The hand on the back of his head had never quite left it until she reached for his arm and pulled it towards her. Leaving the limb resting in her lap, her fingers worked quickly to free enough material to begin bandaging it.
 
RE: Vertigo

The man on the television was screaming and holding a scalpel, hesitating as he brought it to his eye in multiple attempts to follow the orders that a hollow voice had given him; Jackson observed this in silence, and his expression wasn't so much one of interest as it was one of bemusement - he wasn't clear on what they were watching, but he could hear the cringe in Lisa's voice that made it obvious that it was the sort of thing people were revolted by.

And of course, in theory, it was revolting, but just the way a nurse would be insulted by E.R shows, Jackson found himself regarding the movie as satire, both of his eyebrows settled low, his mouth in a thin, unimpressed line as the character died on-screen.

He became aware of Lisa shifting beside him then and he felt her hand in his hair - but he didn't protest to it, nor did he resist when his arm was pulled towards her, though he peered at her for a moment, watching as she unravelled the bandages.

Not for the first time, it occurred to Jackson that amidst all of her stubbornness and naivete, Lisa was almost frustratingly sweet - it was the sort of thing he would never voice, because it was also a thought process that he had surprised himself with.

"Are all comedies like this?" he asked drily, before taking another drink of the too-bitter coffee.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's eyes widened alarmingly at his question, and her small hands stilled in their rebinding his forearm. Her head lifted slowly, disbelief flooding her features even as her memory tried to remind her that Jackson Rippner didn't watch movies. "Ah... This..." She glanced at the television screen while she patted the hand in her lap, "... isn't a comedy, Jack," She supposed they would be watching this then as they'd very nearly run out of channels, and at least he seemed mildly engaged by this... She smiled as best she could at him, but the expression was both uncertain and a little bit sad before it faded, "Comedies are supposed to make people laugh, the humour is supposed to be light-hearted, and not..." She looked at the television screen again. At least the movie had a small break from the sort of thing it had opened with -- it was probably introducing the characters that would eventually die horrible deaths later on in the film. "Not this..." She finished.

He was asking because he really didn't know...? It was almost cute. Tying the bandages off around his wrist, her posture straightened slightly as she gently moved his arm from her lap back to his. She'd turned back to him with that gesture, eyes seeking his, seeking some sort of understanding for what she said. A horrid of a job he had, and as questionable his morals had to be... she doubted he was as deranged as someone had to be to find what was playing on the television now funny.

"This is the sort of movie that, hrm, certain people watch for the... Well... violence. It's disgusting and it turns people's stomachs, and I suppose that they like that. The same as someone else watches a romance movie for the romantic aspects, or why someone else watches a drama to be engaged in the dynamics and shifts of another person's life..." She seemed to realize she'd fallen into the role of some sort of teacher, and she stopped herself. Smiling again, she rose up onto her knees and reached for his chin to tilt his head back only a little ways, "We watch movies to forget about our own lives, and to loose ourselves in someone else's for awhile..." She almost murmured as she fell into the almost comfortable process of winding the roll of bandages around his throat.
 
RE: Vertigo

On some level Jackson was surprised to find Lisa taking him seriously, but he had to remind himself that he hadn't exactly displayed a sense of humour during many of their conversations - in fact, the only humour he had shown was when he had been pretending to be someone else in order to make Lisa warm up to him.

So he sat in silence, raising his eyebrows in a mock-interested expression, a look that implied 'oh really?' as Lisa explained that the gore on the screen was not, in fact, meant to be comedic. To that tend, Jackson was self-aware enough to recognize the irony of a hitman watching a horror movie and he was even more aware that there was likely to be some amount of concern regarding what he might find amusing.

He tilted his head back slightly to allow Lisa to put the bandages around his neck,

"So what you're saying is that it wasn't funny." he said, unable to completely suppress a smile that stated 'just fucking with you'.
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa's eyes had been diverted to his throat, but they lifted at his question. It was clear she'd fallen into the habit of simply assuming that he would allow her to tend to him to some degree, and that she was almost protective of those jobs regardless of the fact that they actually dealt with tending to someone else; someone who specifically wasn't so welcoming of playing the role of someone who was helpless. It was the smile peeked through on his lips that brought a sudden flush of vivid colour to her cheeks. She'd frozen, her mind not even needing to complete the thought -- she just knew.

Pulling from him a little ways, she looked away sharply, and the back of her right hand very gently tapped against his shoulder before she hid it away against her left arm. Covering her mouth, it was clear she was flustered, though it was a soft emotion, not angry or even edged in the least. She was embarrassed.

It took her a moment to regain herself enough to look back to him, and her hands tentatively reached for his throat to resume their self-appointed task of which she was suddenly exceedingly grateful for. "And he reveals now that he has a sense of humour," She dared, ignoring his almost-question pointedly. Finishing with his throat, she leaned forward, her hand touching to his shoulder and Lisa seemed to use him to help balance herself to let her easily toss the roll onto the nightstand beside him.

Settling back onto her calves, she sat there for a minute, eyes trained on the television -- she still wasn't looking at him, and her cheeks were still heated by how flustered she was. "So I suppose it's this then?"
 
RE: Vertigo

Lisa gave him a chastising tap on the arm for his sarcasm and even in the dimness of the room, he could see the flush that had spread over her face - it seemed Reisert was easily embarrassed, not the sort of thing he had expected from her. He let her finish the bandaging in silence, deciding that if he said anything else to her right then, she might very well burst into flame.

When she sat back on the bed again, he gave a small nod and the bandaging rubbed up against his skin; he was looking forward to not wearing the damn things anymore, but it seemed like he was going to have to until they either ran out of bandaging or Lisa stopped being obsessive-compulsive about it.

He moved back against the headboard,

"I suppose it is." he agreed.
 
RE: Vertigo

Hearing him settle back against the headboard, Lisa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye; the flush on her cheeks had settled itself a little ways, and she scooted back slowly, allowing her shoulders to find the headboard. On the television, a new set of characters were being introduced, and Lisa couldn't be bothered to pay attention to their names or whatever this scene was trying to do as far as forming attachments between her -- as an audience member -- and them. She glanced beside herself, a small peek towards Jackson, and her hazels seemed to settle on his broken hand. She was sitting in a bed in a room alone with a man... beneath a mirror that was used more often than not for the less than savoury things that went on in places like this, and it wasn't just any man... The situation should have been an awkward one for her. It had been any time a man approached her for something as innocent as a date -- something she managed to sidestep more often than not. Jackson simply being there at all should have sent her fleeing across the room, keeping as much distance between herself and them as possible... but it wasn't, and it didn't...

Instead, she was going to watch a movie with him. Quietly. One had to be quiet to watch a movie, after all. They had to pay attention to the story so that they could follow along for whatever ending the movie had in store. She wouldn't be allowed to pose all of the questions that had suddenly bubbled to life in her head...

All the things they needed to discuss, and all of the things she wanted to discuss...

Her arms crossed as her eyes remained trained on his cast, and she leaned over a little ways so that she could nudge at him gently with her elbow as if they were actually in a movie theatre, and she couldn't just up and say what it was she wanted to say. She might bother the people around them trying to enjoy the... soon-to-be-coming gore...

"There's a sandwich over there you should try eating..." She reminded at a whisper, and that reminder hadn't long to hang between them before her brows knit themselves suddenly and she slipped away from him across the room. She returned quickly; she'd fetched something from her coat pocket, and the item was unintentionally hidden away in her hand. It was small, palm-sized even, and it only revealed itself after she'd sat back down... and reclaimed possession of his hand. The pen was held in her right hand as she studied the unobtrusive cast that protected his hand, and her left hand was pressed as palm to palm as the cast would allow with his, holding it up so that she could get the best vantage, her fingertips laced in slightly between his fingers so that his hand wouldn't slip from her grasp...
 
RE: Vertigo

On-screen, a group of misfits tried to figure out why they had all been locked in a room together, varying between screaming, crying, and reasoning - at the very least, the reactions were reasonable.

"The nervous one dies first." Jackson said flatly, less familiar with the Silence Rule that was attached to movie-viewing; he felt Lisa lean up against him, nudging his side and he turned his head to look at her - only, then she was slipping off the bed and crossing the room, digging into her jacket. He observed her for a moment longer, but his eyes flicked back to the screen when a gunshot rang out,

"Called it." Jackson added as Lisa climbed back onto the bed, focusing on the screen until -

- his head snapped to the side and he found himself staring down at where Lisa's hand was touching his, their fingers laced together as she brought his arm up into view. Perplexed and suddenly lacking words, Jackson could only watch in silent confusion.
 
RE: Vertigo

Not realizing she had an audience, Lisa seemed to take her time with what she was doing, turning it into a project of sorts. It was clear that she wanted to do this correctly, and pens didn't exactly have erasers... She stopped though, in whatever it was she was doing, and her brows knit further as she slowly turned his hand over. Her right hand moved to cradle it as her left traced against the palm of his cast... The indention of a key... Drawing her hand away a bit more quickly than she'd meant to, she turned his hand back over seemingly to put what she'd found out of her mind. She set pen to cast without further hesitation, and whatever it was she was writing found its placement on the back of his hand. Her head tilted slightly to the side as she surveyed her quick work, and with pen still in hand her hand lifted to brush her hair behind her ear...

get well soon ~Leese

Lisa was about to release ownership of the limb back to him, but the pen found its way back to his cast and a heart was drawn around what she had written. She smiled softly, and glanced over to him, taken aback mildly that she had his attention. Releasing his hand hastily as if what she'd been doing was some sort of secret expedition that Jackson wasn't supposed to be aware of, she capped the pen, and her slender arms crossed themselves across her stomach.

"So who's next?" She ventured, nodding towards the television. Her voice hadn't been entirely light or as jesting as she would have liked, but she was trying -- attempting to shift the attention of that look from her back to the television. It was the same expression he'd had when she'd offered him what comfort she could on that first night...
 
RE: Vertigo

Jackson watched in silence as Lisa trailed her fingers over his cast, studiously eyeing the crater that had been made in the palm by his earlier use of a car key - thankfully, he had managed to avoid getting blood on it - it would have been mildly off-putting to have someone else's dried blood spotting it for any length of time. He observed as Lisa brought the pen to his cast and finally recognized what she was doing; he'd had broken bones before, but not for a very, very long time.

And back then, he didn't exactly know anyone well enough for them to sign it, except maybe the counsellors down at children's services.

For a moment, they made an awkward eye contact; Lisa seemed to suddenly recognize that he had been watching and reacted visibly, suddenly releasing his hand. Jackson shifted his arm to eye her handiwork.

Get Well Soon - Leese

And she'd drawn a heart around it, a strangely girly addition to what Jackson already considered a bizarre practise - though, he had to admit, the sentiment was -

- nice. It was a word he wasn't fond of, but there it was.

He stored the moment in his memory for later analysis, focusing his attention back on the movie just as Lisa did - for an instant, the television moved in and out of focus and he blinked away the blur.

"The skinny one in the hoodie," Jackson said after a moment of inspecting the characters on the screen, "Trying too hard to be unnerving, has to be a red herring."
 
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