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“I would show you if you would let me, y’know, leave,” Spoke bristles. She’d ask why’s he’s so erratic lately but– well.
“Well, I never said you couldn’t leave– actually,” Jumper pauses, and takes stock of his… grimy greasy gross state. He should really take a bath beyond wading in a river. But he doesn’t care about his personal wellbeing enough. “Thirty minutes. You’ll stay here for thirty minutes.”
“We don’t have thirty minutes–” he argues, just to argue.
“We have enough time. My spies are taking care of the issue. They’ll pop all the people’s totems. We have time.” She responds calmly. He’s been very argumentative lately. Not in his usual playful way, either.
Spoke visibly considers it. He stares her down, and she holds his gaze easily.
Eventually, he gives in, and looks to the side.
“Fine. What did you– what am I looking at?” He asks, cautious. On edge, reasonably. He’s never off edge.
“Follow me,” she says, and leads him down one of the short hallways. When she opens a door and reveals a wash basin, Spoke pauses. Jumper tries not to smile. She will get him to bathe.
“Jumper,” Spoke starts.
“You’re gonna get clean. There’s soap and stuff on the shelves.” She supplies, and herds him in like he’s a stubborn sheep. Which he is– stubborn.
“Jumper I’m not going to– we’re wasting time that could be–” He tries, tone rising. Volatile.
“Don’t forget your tail,” she hums helpfully, and mostly closes the door. Spoke groans behind it, muffled.
She very intentionally leaves the door slightly open, just in case. If they get jumped or if Spoke freaks out or if– just anything. The door is open and she’s ready to help.
But the situation doesn’t arise. Spoke walks out, fully dressed but clothes damp, and it’s almost hysterical how soggy he is. His hair is falling over his eyes, and his tail fur is dripping onto the floor. She’s never seen him with his hair not in pom-poms, it’s a new thing, new sight to behold.
“Better?” Spoke asks sarcastically. She hums in consideration. It’d be rude to let him go out into the world absolutely sopping, right?
“You have long hair,” Jumper comments, leaning forward from the wall.
She takes a step, intending to slip past Spoke and grab a hairbrush from under the sink, but she's barely taking the second one before he’s flinching back. He hits the doorframe with a flat sound, and his wings twitch once.
She blinks.
Spoke gives her a look that is entirely devoid of emotion except maybe annoyance, which she takes is him saying leave it. So she does.
“I’m just getting a hairbrush,” she comments casually, and opens the cabinets. Spoke doesn’t say anything behind her when she reaches into the cabinet and takes out a hairbrush. She can’t help but wonder if he’s still paranoid that she might take out a weapon. He really has no advantage here. He’d be dead, if she wanted him to be.
But for now, she’s brushing his hair. Jumper, funnily enough, doesn’t want anyone dead.
“Sit down,” she tells him. He pauses.
“We have better uses of our time,” Spoke responds.
“Oh my gosh Spoke, just sit down,” she exasperates, waiting for him to listen. After a beat of Spoke challenging her eyes, he sits down.
“Fine, fine, fineee,” he complains, and she moves behind him.
Spoke cranes his neck and slightly shifts to keep her in his view, tail dragging across the floor.
“I need to be behind you to brush your hair, Spoke,” she tells him, not trying to mask to laughter in her tone.
“Oh,” he says, and sits still. “Uh– be– be careful.”
“I’m not gonna try anything,” Jumper soothes, and sits down. “Let me know if it hurts.”
Spoke makes an acknowledging noise, and Jumper starts from the bottom of his hair. It’s not– well. It could be worse. There could be crawling bugs in it. As everything stands, his hair is just very knotted.
“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” She asks, focusing on brushing and trying to hold tight enough that he doesn’t feel the pull of the brush. It takes her a second to realize he hasn’t responded. “Spoke?”
“When…” he starts, eerily still. “Um.”
“Oh.” She realizes. “Sorry. I– …yeah. No that makes sense.”
Mapicc’s hair was always nice– like a cat constantly licking itself. Glossy. It makes sense he would extend the same care to Spoke.
Spoke doesn’t say anything else, and Jumper lets them fall into silence. That’s unfortunate. She doesn’t like that. Obviously– well, it’s Spoke. And it’s been apparent for a while that he isn’t… normal, to put it one way. But before– before he hired her, unkempt and disheveled and wrong, she didn’t know he was… mentally unwell, like this. It reminds her of a different time, of green and blue and orange feathers, and white curling trims.
The brush drags his hair down a little low, and the bristles comb against his wing, leaving water droplets. Spoke twitches away with a slight exhale, and his wings shake, just a little.
“Does that hurt you?” she questions, because Spoke doesn’t make a move to tell her that it did.
“No,” he says flatly, all instinct. She recognizes that, she’s used to it in her business.
“Oh my gosh, I’m not trying to hurt you here, Spoke,” Jumper exasperates, and makes a mental note to not scratch his wings with the brush.
“This is a waste of our time,” Spoke repeats tonelessly. He isn’t making any effort to leave, though.
“Do you want to be soggy out in the open?” She asks, raising an eyebrow even though he can’t see it.
“I’d rather have wet hair than be stuck in a stupid base,” Spoke answers, and she can feel his glare even turned away. He’s scared, under it, she just knows. For the three weeks she’s been hired, his paranoia only seems to be getting worse. He should really get a therapist. Or friends. He needs friends.
“That’s too bad,” Jumper decides, going over a knot. Spoke makes a very quiet, very subtle rattling noise in his chest. Huh. She didn’t know he could do that. “You okay?”
Spoke clears his throat. “Yeah. Yes.” He says, wiggling. Jumper stops moving the brush, extra cautious of his wings. His tail thumps against the ground wetly, which means by the end of this her floor is gonna be soaked. “I’m fine.”
“Whatever you say,” she shrugs off, and returns to the long effort of detangling his hair. She can’t help but be curious about what else he can do. She doesn’t– Mapicc’s probably heard it all, and Jumper– she doesn’t think for a second she’s a replacement. She doesn’t want to be either. Mapicc is more important to Spoke than anything else, far as she can tell. It’d be delusional to think Spoke was replacing him.
But she thinks that Spoke, even as he is, deserves the same comfort. Needs it, especially now, with his best friend gone. Jumper thinks that she can offer him some of it. Make him chill out– not relaxing, just not moving– for at least a few minutes.
“Your hair isn’t actually that bad,” she comments, moving onto a different section. Start from the bottom…
“Thanks.” He deadpans. Jumper scoffs.
“Not like that, jeez,” she huffs, pulling out a knot. He makes that quiet rattling noise again before clearing his throat. “I mean it’s nice, once you’ve cleaned it.”
“When did you become the– the hair expert, bro?” Spoke says back, and Jumper mentally sighs. No point with this guy.
“I don’t have to be an expert to say your hair doesn’t suck,” Jumper retaliates, and moves the brush slightly higher, still holding onto Spoke’s hair. “Just take the damn compliment.”
“Oh, thank you JumperWho for the amazing compliment that my hair isn’t absolutely buns. What do you want me to say, dude?” Spoke bristles, wings twitching.
“Just say thank you,” Jumper scolds, and slightly pushes his head forward to tease him. He starts a rattle, and then cuts it off immediately. Jeez.
“Thank you,” he says, not entirely disingenuous. Jumper hums in response.
For the next couple of minutes, she takes care to not graze Spoke’s wings. It happens a few times, and each time it does, he twitches. His tail keeps painting the floor with water. He doesn’t move it a lot– in fact, she thinks he actively tries to keep it entirely still– but sometimes he jolts, and it happens. Jumper doesn’t mind too much, so she carefully keeps quiet. He's gotta have some kind of complex with his riftangel side.
Once his hair is all brushed out and separated (and everything, including her legs, is sufficiently covered with water), Jumper sets the brush to the side. Spoke stays still for a half second, and then tries to get up.
“No,” Jumper tells him, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing down.
“Oh my godd,” Spoke complains, but sits. “What more could you– what else is there to–”
She puts a hand against his wing, and just swipes off the water.
Spoke snaps.
He tenses, shies away, and then whips around, wings blocked from her hands by his body. His tail lashes her leg, and he opens his mouth in a snarl, revealing fangs she forgot about.
Jumper realizes now, that maybe his wings aren’t sensitive, he is. She didn’t think all his anger before was so performative, now that she’s seeing the base instincts, the raw type. He’s snarling.
“Sorry,” she says, leaning away. He hauls his wings away like she hurt him, and Jumper’s chest twists just a little. “My bad.”
Spoke breathes shallowly, like he’s trying not to hyperventilate. It's- he can't be that sensitive about his wings, right? He isn’t saying anything, but his eyes have widened, and the snarl slowly softens. Jumper doesn’t know what to even think here.
After he continues to not say anything, she gets concerned enough to speak.
“...Are you okay?” She asks, trying to keep her face neutral. Did she actually hurt his wings? Is there something she needs to do, something to fix?
“Don’t–” Spoke starts, shaky. He composes himself in a heartbeat, glaring but not lowering his wings. “What is your problem?”
“I– I didn’t know!” She exclaims, responsive. Spoke just keeps glaring.
“It’s a– you don’t– don’t t– it’s just rude.” Spoke stutters.
“Minute doesn’t care,” Jumper defends, and forces herself to calm down. She deals with undocumented behavior all the time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Spoke still doesn’t lower his wings. He’s glaring flatly at her, but he’s still way too tense to just be annoyed. She didn’t think he’d… react this strongly? She just expected a flinch and a quip. Jesus.
They slip into silence, and Jumper hones her ears on his breathing. It’s too quiet, too shallow, too soft. She doesn’t wanna say anything in case it makes him run off and get himself killed by the jumbled players.
A minute or two passes, and, seeing as he hasn’t relaxed, Jumper talks.
“You’re fine. We’re in the safe house. I d– I’m sorry for… messing with you.” She tries to reorient. Spoke huffs, which is at least something. “That’s my bad.”
“I…” Spoke starts, and then drops his wings back to normal and huffs again, starting to get up. “Whatever. You’re done making me sit down, let’s go.”
“Sit down,” Jumper tells him, not done at all. He makes a big display of groaning, but he plops back onto the floor. “Okay. Can I brush your tail out while your hair dries?”
Spoke pauses, and something flickers across his face, but it’s buried too fast for her to fully catch. She trusts Spoke enough to not bother with analyzing the look. Probably hesitation or something.
“...From in front of me,” he decides, watching her. She nods.
Her legs are still crossed, and really, how much more damp could they get? She gently lifts his tail– not overly careful, but not harsh– and drops it on her legs. The angle is slightly awkward, but she doesn’t mind. Spoke doesn’t voice that he does either.
When she glances up at him, there’s that childlike fear in his eyes again, too wide. He quickly blinks it away, and flattens her a look.
“You said thirty minutes,” he reminds, and she scoffs, grabbing the brush off the floor.
“Alright Mr Impatient,” Jumper teases, and wraps her hands around his tail fur– still that same firm-gentleness– and wrings it out over the floor to her left. Spoke starts that quiet rattling noise, and he must forget to stop himself this time. Jumper doesn’t comment.
Water squeezes from the fur, and splatters onto the floor. Jumper huffs at it, and shakes Spoke’s tail out. The rattling gets louder for a brief second, and then he clears his throat.
“Are you gonna brush it or just abuse it,” he comments, deadpan. Jumper rolls her eyes, because she was already bringing it back to her lap.
“Calm down,” She tells him, running the brush over the end of his tail, because that’s the part resting over her leg. “Oh my gosh. You need to practice patience.”
“You said thirty minutes,” Spoke counters.
“We have ten left,” Jumper raises an eyebrow, and reaches a hand forward to take apart the more knotted areas. He’s got a lot of shit on the bottom of his tail. “You should keep it off the ground.”
Spoke immediately bristles at her side– meaning he stays the exact same, but his voice gets a little harsher. More defensive.
“I can do what I want,” he tells her. Jumper hums.
“Yeah, you can. Just advice. So it doesn’t get so gross.” She shrugs, and goes back to using the brush. “Your body.”
“Whatever.” Spoke says, and when she glances up, he’s staring at her hands.
While she goes through the sections of his tail, he sort of… relaxes. Not fully, never fully, especially when Mapicc isn’t around, but he chills out enough. He seems like a 5/10 paranoia instead of an 8.
His breathing evens out, and his tail eventually stops twitching with every touch. Maybe he’s just a sensitive guy. The back of her mind whispers that it’s a weak point, that they should train out every flinch or shiver, take the weak link and shoot it out back–
The logical part of her huffs when his tail jumps out of her lap as the brush catches a bad knot.
He chills out. Stops looking so upset– or, stops looking like he’s trying not to look upset. Jumper finishes brushing his tail (very pretty rainbow, by the way. Awesome to brush through.) and starts to get up.
“When do you want your hairties in?” She asks him, because they’re currently around his wrist. Spoke glances down as he stands, but Jumper looks at his head, waiting.
“Uh.” He replies smartly, and then his voice gets quieter. “I don’t– um.”
“Spoke?” She asks, reeling him back in. “What?”
He rolls his hairties off his wrist, but still doesn’t meet her gaze.
“It’s– well, I… I don’t usually put them in.” He answers, and Jumper notices that he’s shaking a little. Maybe he just needs to eat.
She’s about to ask how else do they get in your hair? before she realizes that it’s probably another Mapicc job. They’re really in every aspect of each other’s lives. Hm.
“I can put them in,” she offers easily. Spoke makes a negative sound.
“You can’t go– you– from the front. You have to stand in front of me.” Spoke tells her. Jumper blinks.
“Uh, no?” She answers, confused.
“You were behind me earlier.” Spoke says, like that explains everything.
“So why ca– oh. Ah, okay.” Jumper nods, holding her hands out for the hairties. Spoke deposits them. “C’mere.”
Spoke walks forward, so she steps slightly to his side and wraps a hairtie over her fingers. The angle to grab Spoke’s hair and put it in a hairtie is a bit of a stretch, but she manages. Then she flips to the other side, and does the same thing.
When Jumper draws back and offers Spoke a smile, he just stares at her. Not annoyed, not mad, but… something else? This is probably his equivalent of a warm smile, right.
“No thank you?” She teases, and his eyebrows drop.
“No.” He confirms, and turns toward the middle of the room. “Where’s the exit. It’s been thirty minutes.”
Jumper huffs a laugh, and Spoke starts dancing around where the elevator used to be, searching for buttons. It’s a joy to tell him they have to go allll the way back through the tunnel.