Hey, losers, I'm probably out doing something amazing, so leave a message, and I'll try to get back to you. Or just think really loudly at me. I'll hear it. BEEP.
[she packed all of her necessary essentials in her duffle bag, her café is being supervised by one of her crew, ekko's apartment is spic and span enough, and she left both vi and ragna a voicemail about her departure to the oasis. all seems to be in order except for one little thing. and that thing is the treehouse. a place (for some unknown reason jinx couldn't begin to comprehend) she had been maintaining for approximately for almost a little over a year now, and even tried to build some sort of cooling/heating unit to keep it comfortable to live in during the seasons.
the bluenette wouldn't mind continuing with the cleanliness, doing so practically became a daily routine for her now. but with this particular mission, she will be gone for several weeks, and anything could happen to that treehouse within that timeframe. and with quentin being in aldrip again, it would make a lot more sense to hand it back over. he did built the place, after all, and she knows the silence of the forest can help him with the constant thoughts that flow around the city.
and although jinx had rehearsed this exact moment in her head countless times, the crow continues to perch on a tree branch with her eyes fixating apprehensively over scott's home. just when was the last time she visited this place anyway? ... she can't seem to recall, and just observing the residence like this feels like she went back in time somehow. the teenager works her lips for a moment before she huffs out a frustrating groan, forcing her body to evacuate out of the tree, and paces her way to the home. this needs to get done, she has a job to do, and she can't just hide away and waste time.]
[she thinks that, but when she meets face to face with the front door, the anxiety swells in her throat again. so this is it. he is right behind this door... or maybe there's an off chance scott will answer, and she can hand him the key, then bolt out of there. ... but that's cowardly, and jinx is not a chicken. all she has to remember is to stick to the plan, say what she needs to say, and keep her mind racing through unimportant things. not that quentin would enter or read her mind without permission, but... she wants this to go as smooth as possible. adjusting her strap bag, she taps the front door with her knuckle, a little diddy kind of knock before she casts her gaze elsewhere in her surroundings, then down to her boots to kick a rock or two. just... anything to keep her busy while she waits for an answer.]
[Normally Quentin wouldn't bother answering when some random person—obviously he does a quick psychic scan to determine if it's someone he knows—knocks on the door. Aside from Ange, all of his housemates are annoyingly social, and most of their dumb friends frankly aren't worth Quentin's valuable time. However, last time one of said dumb friends came to visit, the little fucker kicked the whole damn door down. So it is very begrudgingly that this time he decides to get off his ass and answer the knock himself.
While the Quentin Quire who opens the door looks more or less the same as he did when he left Aldrip, there are some notable differences. He's older, for one thing, though only visibly by a couple of years. Thanks to Krakoan resurrection, his hair is now permanently pink, and as a result it's his natural wavy texture and not so closely shaved on the sides. He looks mildly disgruntled—because he is—and starts talking before the door is even fully open.]
Look, I don't know which one of the other ones you're looking for, but none of them are home right now. Come back later.
[hearing his voice again is so surreal, and who would have thought all of her preparation and rehearsals would come undone this easily for her? for a split moment, she contemplated that maybe her father was right to have him deliver this instead of her. but that quickly came and went when he suggests for her to come back later. jinx finds her voice, and the words rush so hastily off her tongue that she will definitely bash her head against the wall later for it.]
Wait, Quentin, I'm here for you! [that might come off a little strange, so she adds:] — I mean, I have something that belongs to you. I'll be quick, I promise.
Y-Yeah! I, uh. I figured when you, uh... didn't look for me or reached out when you came back.
[jinx clears her throat in an attempt to bring all this back to why she's here in the first place, and she shakes her head in a way to get her mind straight.]
But, no, you don't have to do all that. It's... It's not that important, but uh — I just came by to give you this.
[with that, she fishes in her back pocket to reveal a key — extending it out to him with open palm.]
This is yours. There's a treehouse in the forest you built a long while ago. I've been keeping it clean while you were gone.
[anxiously, she smiles and flickers her gaze off to the door frame than his face. maybe it'll be easier if she doesn't give him direct eye contact.]
When I saw you were back, I went ahead and, uh, moved my junk out. Thought you might want it back since... it's quiet out there and, I know... hearing all of us in your head can get wicked annoying.
[that should be enough explaining, right? one would think so, but she can't seem to stop herself from talking.]
There's food in the fridge, and I installed a heating unit in there, too. 'Cause, boy! It's been a REAL killer staying in there with the weather and crap. Eh heh heh...
[That's, uh... Hmm. There's a lot to unpack here. Her body language, what she's saying, what she's not saying...
What did you do this time, Quire??
He looks at the key in her hand and back up to her face.]
Right. So let me get this straight. There's a treehouse somewhere in the forest that you've been living in and maintaining and upgrading for some unspecified but seemingly significant amount of time... but supposedly this thing is mine. Because I apparently built it. Even though I don't remember doing so. Do I have that right?
[with her free hand, she shapes it like her trusty pistol and presses the index and middle to the side of her temple. jinx "pulls the trigger", and mouths the sound effects of a gunshot, however chuckles and smiles just to indicate she isn't doing so out of morbid sort of way.]
Headshot and a bullseye, mister! — The place was originally yours, and I used to stop by a few times.
[as to why she did so, jinx will keep her silence for as long as she can about it, and she may be stretching the truth just a little. it wasn't just his, but it was theirs. but he might need it more than her right? although given his reaction so far, she wonders if he feels she is just some kooky girl, or she's trying to lure him some weird trap. jinx wouldn't blame him for thinking either of these possibilities.]
It's got pretty sweet digs, and besides, you've got to be tired of puking your guts out over the love birds every night. Unless that doesn't bother you, I can hardly stand an hour with how cutesy they get.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
the bluenette wouldn't mind continuing with the cleanliness, doing so practically became a daily routine for her now. but with this particular mission, she will be gone for several weeks, and anything could happen to that treehouse within that timeframe. and with quentin being in aldrip again, it would make a lot more sense to hand it back over. he did built the place, after all, and she knows the silence of the forest can help him with the constant thoughts that flow around the city.
and although jinx had rehearsed this exact moment in her head countless times, the crow continues to perch on a tree branch with her eyes fixating apprehensively over scott's home. just when was the last time she visited this place anyway? ... she can't seem to recall, and just observing the residence like this feels like she went back in time somehow. the teenager works her lips for a moment before she huffs out a frustrating groan, forcing her body to evacuate out of the tree, and paces her way to the home. this needs to get done, she has a job to do, and she can't just hide away and waste time.]
[she thinks that, but when she meets face to face with the front door, the anxiety swells in her throat again. so this is it. he is right behind this door... or maybe there's an off chance scott will answer, and she can hand him the key, then bolt out of there. ... but that's cowardly, and jinx is not a chicken. all she has to remember is to stick to the plan, say what she needs to say, and keep her mind racing through unimportant things. not that quentin would enter or read her mind without permission, but... she wants this to go as smooth as possible. adjusting her strap bag, she taps the front door with her knuckle, a little diddy kind of knock before she casts her gaze elsewhere in her surroundings, then down to her boots to kick a rock or two. just... anything to keep her busy while she waits for an answer.]
no subject
While the Quentin Quire who opens the door looks more or less the same as he did when he left Aldrip, there are some notable differences. He's older, for one thing, though only visibly by a couple of years. Thanks to Krakoan resurrection, his hair is now permanently pink, and as a result it's his natural wavy texture and not so closely shaved on the sides. He looks mildly disgruntled—because he is—and starts talking before the door is even fully open.]
Look, I don't know which one of the other ones you're looking for, but none of them are home right now. Come back later.
no subject
Wait, Quentin, I'm here for you! [that might come off a little strange, so she adds:] — I mean, I have something that belongs to you. I'll be quick, I promise.
[because the quicker, the better, right?]
no subject
One of the people I knew the first time I was here, I assume?
[He puts his hands up, palms forward in a disarming gesture.]
Look, I don't remember anything from then. I mean, I could download your memories, sure, but mine are gone. Just FYI.
no subject
[jinx clears her throat in an attempt to bring all this back to why she's here in the first place, and she shakes her head in a way to get her mind straight.]
But, no, you don't have to do all that. It's... It's not that important, but uh — I just came by to give you this.
[with that, she fishes in her back pocket to reveal a key — extending it out to him with open palm.]
This is yours. There's a treehouse in the forest you built a long while ago. I've been keeping it clean while you were gone.
[anxiously, she smiles and flickers her gaze off to the door frame than his face. maybe it'll be easier if she doesn't give him direct eye contact.]
When I saw you were back, I went ahead and, uh, moved my junk out. Thought you might want it back since... it's quiet out there and, I know... hearing all of us in your head can get wicked annoying.
[that should be enough explaining, right? one would think so, but she can't seem to stop herself from talking.]
There's food in the fridge, and I installed a heating unit in there, too. 'Cause, boy! It's been a REAL killer staying in there with the weather and crap. Eh heh heh...
no subject
What did you do this time, Quire??
He looks at the key in her hand and back up to her face.]
Right. So let me get this straight. There's a treehouse somewhere in the forest that you've been living in and maintaining and upgrading for some unspecified but seemingly significant amount of time... but supposedly this thing is mine. Because I apparently built it. Even though I don't remember doing so. Do I have that right?
no subject
Headshot and a bullseye, mister! — The place was originally yours, and I used to stop by a few times.
[as to why she did so, jinx will keep her silence for as long as she can about it, and she may be stretching the truth just a little. it wasn't just his, but it was theirs. but he might need it more than her right? although given his reaction so far, she wonders if he feels she is just some kooky girl, or she's trying to lure him some weird trap. jinx wouldn't blame him for thinking either of these possibilities.]
It's got pretty sweet digs, and besides, you've got to be tired of puking your guts out over the love birds every night. Unless that doesn't bother you, I can hardly stand an hour with how cutesy they get.