(no subject)

[prodigaljaybird]

It's been nearly a week, and all Jason can say for the passage of time is that his hand isn't quite as swollen anymore.

It's still swollen enough, though, to prevent him doing just about everything he enjoys. He can't grapple gun his way through the trees, can't do most of what they practice in gymnastics (though he will, by god, and sooner than anyone thinks he should), he can't swim in Bucky's class, can't...enjoy the attentions of his girlfriend with quite the same enthusiasm. At least he can drive his fucking go-kart now that his knee's no longer the size of a bowling ball.

His life, while much improved from the endless minutes he'd spent underground, kind of sucks, a pale comparison to what he wants it to be, and when he reaches for the Compound door for the billionth time with the wrong hand, he very nearly breaks the other one punching it. With a huff, Jason settles down on the bottom step, face set in grim determination not to show how much that punch had fucking hurt.

Comments

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

Grace still wouldn't say that she's been on the island for a terribly long time, but she's been around long enough to have a general idea of what to expect on the island in the day to day. However, one thing she isn't expecting to see when she comes to the compound is Jason punching its door.

"I'm not altogether fond of that door either," Grace says, and sinks down onto the bottom step next to him, smoothing her flowered skirt with her palms.

She's heard that something's happened to him since they last spoke, but she doesn't know the details at all; it seems even the island isn't immune to gossip.

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason fiddles with his cast, as best he can, anyway, when the ends of his fingers are still a mess. His fingernails are either torn or gone, each knuckle an enduring, angry red, and he finds himself shoving his uncasted hand beneath him when she sits, somehow unwilling for her to see that kind of gore.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "Did you wanna go in there?"

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

"Not really," Grace says, though she'd been on her way to the kitchen. But the kitchen's certainly not going anywhere, and Grace is sure there will still be enough pineapple to go around once she finally makes her way there.

"How's your hand?" Though, she doesn't make it clear which one she's referring to; he can decide whether he wants to talk about his cast or why he's punched the compound door and hidden his other hand from view.

[prodigaljaybird]

"Uh, kind of fucked up," he answers, and almost makes his way to a smile for the understatement. "I broke it, have to wear this stupid cast for a while. It sucks trying to take a shower."

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps you could find something to cover it with," Grace suggests, "I'm sure you could find something in the clothes box. Just the other day, I found the loveliest pair of shoes there. I could look for you, if you'd like."

Breaking his hand may be an awful thing, but she's determined to help him make the best of it, if she can.

[prodigaljaybird]

"Maybe," he says, flexing it carefully within the cast. "Raincoat or something." His eyes on the white trappings are sullen, angry still that this place would do that to him. It does it to everyone it seems, the horror of it worse every time. It's already done it to Katniss and Bucky. He wonders what it will do to Tim, to Lux. To Grace, who's so gentle and sweet. She doesn't deserve it.

"This place is really mean," he blurts. "If it does something to you, I'll help you, okay? Just tell me."

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

The possibility isn't one that Grace wants to consider, even if she's heard about how awful the island can be. The worst it's done to her, after all, is present her with a bookshelf full of books that she doesn't want to read at all. It's a bit tame by comparison.

She nods only slightly in response, and is silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Do you remember what we spoke about before? At the rave?"

[prodigaljaybird]

"I...no?" says Jason after a moment. He might if he thought about it longer, but the change in subject is unexpected, leaving him confused. Unthinking, he pulls his other hand from beneath his leg, sets it back to worrying at the cast.

"The party or something?"

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

The change in subject is completely on purpose of course, Grace preferring to steer the subject in a more positive direction. And maybe even one that will cheer him up a bit. He seems so very down at the moment.

"No, silly," she replies, her expression beginning to break into a smile, "More... parties in general and your apparent dislike of them."

[prodigaljaybird]

He doesn't really feel like smiling, but something in Grace's makes him do it anyway, a tentative quirk at the edge of his mouth. "Oh right," he says. "Just never been to one I liked. You either have to dress up, or you can't eat anything because everything has drugs in it."

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

"What's so horrible about dressing up?" Grace asks him, "I think it's fun."

She quite likes that element of parties. Most times, she'll pretend to be someone else, if only in her head. Some grand duchess from an exotic country far away, someone with closets upon closets of beautiful, expensive dresses instead of just the few she owns.

[prodigaljaybird]

"It's not...the worst thing that can happen to you," Jason concedes, if only because he doesn't want to insult her apparent love of dressing up. "My dad, he used to have these big parties. Charity things, so everything had to be really nice and fancy. All I cared about was the food, always got it all over my suit. All those little bitesized things? Sandwiches, and puff things with bacon in them. Once there were tiny burgers, it was awesome."

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

"I hope that was when you were much younger," Grace laughs, the idea of Jason unable to help but spill bits of tiny burger on himself impossibly funny to her for some reason.

Somehow, she can't imagine Jason as a small boy in a tiny suit. She hasn't known him very long yet, but it seems as though he's always been how he is now, as untrue as Grace knows that must be.

[prodigaljaybird]

"Eleven," he says, laughing as he nods. His manners haven't actually much improved, not that Jason's noticed. If anything, his mouth is bigger now, catching more crumbs when he shoves food into his mouth whole. "'Til I was fourteen, so I have an excuse."

[madeofstories.livejournal.com]

"Well, that just means that you'll know exactly what not to do when we hold an afternoon tea in your honor," Grace replies, expression brightening as a grin spreads across her face.

She doesn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner. It's perfect, really. A party without so many drugs-- even while she herself had been on a pill, she'd noticed that he didn't seem particularly excited about the idea of it-- and with all of his friends. It'll be lovely.