spaceguy | (no subject)

He doesn't particularly want to have a name.

Which isn't really an answer at all.

He doesn't shake his head, doesn't nod. Just seals the backpack up, on his knees in the dirt.

"Didn't think so," Jasper chuckles, a little ruefully.

He takes a breath, because this is going out on a limb. "All right, look, can I just call you 'Guy'? Because weird as it seems, you're kind of the closest thing to a friend I've got right now, and it doesn't seem right to think of you as 'that dude over there.' I mean, I feel like we're kind of past that."

He shakes his head, realizing he's rambled a bit, and looks up at the man.

"Would that be okay? Like, it wouldn't offend you, right?"

...Guy.

It's as good as any other name, he supposes. Better, because it's - undistinguished.

Guy slides the pack onto his back and inclines his head, indicating for Jasper to come with him. A question, a request. An acceptance.

Jasper grins for the first time in what feels like forever. "Yeah? Really?"

He takes a brief look around at the camp. The sun hasn't come up yet, even though it's starting to get lighter with that grey sort of pre-sun glow; and all Jasper can see are the bodies (sleeping, just sleeping) and the mud.

"Yeah," Jasper nods, agreeing. Actually looking forward to something. "Fuck yeah, Guy, let's get out of here."

Guy leads them through the winding paths, between the tents - some shopkeepers already awake, already eyeing the duo with caution and suspicion. The world hasn't settled down yet; people haven't figured out that capitalism isn't a luxury, it's the simplest and best method of trade.

Up by the gate, Royal and his guards are in the process of opening for the day.

Guy has already guessed that Royal must have trounced Jasper - something about the kid makes Guy think that he would have mouthed off, and with Royal's type, that's never a good thing.

In order to halt any hesitation, he touches a hand to the back of Jasper's shoulder, firmly, pushing Jasper so he's walking ahead.

Jasper's not nervous, though he probably should be, up and leaving just to follow a stranger to nowhere in particular. He trusts Guy. He's not sure why, but he does, and the guy caught him when he fell, so... That counts for a lot.

Royal and the guards are out by the gate already, and Jasper can feel himself starting to tense up. Yeah, he brought that beating on himself, because he never can tell when to shut the fuck up; but that doesn't mean Jasper's eager for a repeat performance.

And even now, Guy's catching him again, shoving his shoulder enough to push him in front; to keep his feet moving.

"I'm going, all right?" hisses Jasper, not wanting to draw undue attention. "Though I have to say, me leading? Not the best idea." He cranes his neck back to look at Guy. "I'm not gonna stop, okay? I'm with you."

Guy gives him a brisk pat on the shoulder, a little amused at Jasper's timidity. It doesn't much matter to him whether Jasper's coming with him or not.

It doesn't.

Royal turns to stare at them, as they approach. Spits in the dirt. "What do you want?" he challenges.

Guy nods at the outside world, beyond the gate. Specific enough. But if Royal wants them more specific, Jasper's going to have to do the talking.

Jasper almost smiles at the pat to his shoulder. He gets that he's being laughed at, kind of, but it's reassuring all the same. Maybe there's hope in this whole friendship thing, after all.

He cocks his head at Royal's questioning, defiant and sarcastic like he hadn't had the shit beaten out of him not too long ago for it. "Just thought we'd take a walk, y'know, enjoy the fresh morning air."

He really doesn't know when to shut up. Guy rubs the bridge of his nose, and raises his eyebrows at Royal.

"Get the fuck out," says Royal. "So that someone else can waste a bullet taking you out of the gene pool."

Once they're clear of the gate, Guy gives Jasper a smack, on the back of the head. Idiot.

A quick check of the directions available - up the road, and down the road.

Neither look appealing.

Guy hops over the ditch by the side of the road and heads into the forest.

They're barely even past Royal - and man, that could've gone a whole hell of a lot worse - when...

"Ow! What the hell?" Jasper's hand flies up the the back of his head, even though it didn't hurt that much. He turns a mock-betrayed look on Guy. "I told you me leading was a bad idea."

Guy looks up the road, and then he looks down the road, and Jasper isn't really surprised when he hauls off and hops the ditch, heading straight for the trees.

He follows without hesitation, but can't stop himself from asking. "Hey, you know where we're going?"

It didn't hurt that badly. Couldn't have.

And Guy definitely isn't smiling, at Jasper's reaction. He pops off a shrug at Jasper's question, pointing somewhere due south.

Hopefully they'll hit a stream sometime in the next few hours. Guy's water supply is getting low.

Oh - right.

Guy stops, setting his pack on the ground, and reaches into a pocket sewn into the lining. He pulls out a small, flat rectangle, and passes it over to Jasper, careful not to drop it. The second he takes himself, hooking it onto a pocket.

"That's super helpful," Jasper teases. "You really know how to inspire confidence in a guy, you know that?"

He takes the little device from Guy, handling it delicately as he asks, "What's this?" Though a few more seconds of looking at it, and he can see the little numbers on the readout, the color coded bars...

"Oh, cool. Like a geiger counter, right? Where'd you get - never mind," he cuts himself off. He doesn't think Guy would answer him even if that wasn't a stupidly invasive thing to ask. Obviously this dude has some dark and mysterious past and shit, and just as obviously, he doesn't wanna talk about it.

Instead he smiles a little, tucking the counter into his own pocket. "Thanks, man. This'll probably help a lot. Y'know, staying alive."

And staying alive would be the plan.

Guy heads off into the forest, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

He doesn't know how he'll be able to feed them. He has enough trouble with himself, finding fish and plants that're undamaged by radiation. With two --

Then again, Jasper's wish to talk might be helpful.

If Guy can also teach him how to shut up.

They walk in silence for a while, because Jasper can't think of anything to say, and he's getting a little tired of hearing his own voice. And if he's tired of it, man, Guy must be dying.

He's favoring his right leg a little too much, but fuck, his left is still really tight. Jumping and climbing through the woods probably isn't doing him any favors either.

But hey, in for a penny in for a pound, or whatever; and even though his leg hurts and he doesn't know where the hell they're going, this is still so much better than the camp.

Jasper winces a little bit, stepping over a fallen branch, but he keeps walking.

After about an hour of walking (maybe three miles, Guy thinks, but probably less) he notices Jasper's limp.

And sighs. Because he really should have picked up on that sooner.

He halts, setting the pack on the ground, and pushes Jasper back, so he's sitting on a log. Crouches before Jasper's left leg, and runs a hand up his calf, sending a questioning glance up Jasper's way.

"Hey - whoa - what?" Jasper flails a little, until he settles on the log, and he doesn't have too long to react to that before Guy bends down and slides his hand gently up his calf.

He's not blushing. That's stupid.

"It's okay," Jasper says, "I mean, it's just a really old injury; I've had it for freaking years. I'm used to it." He's kind of babbling, but Guy still isn't moving, so he keeps talking. "There's not anything you can do, I don't think. I mean, you can touch it, if you like, but..."

And Jasper's totally not blushing now, no way, but he does feel kind of embarrassed.

"It's fine," he shrugs. "Don't worry about it."

And - there, Guy's located the scar tissue, and, yeah, probably that muscle that's having the problems. He digs in, hard, with his thumb, in a way that's probably at least a little painful to Jasper. And again; pressure, release, pressure, release. Basic, but effective.

Come to think of it, it might be nice to have someone to take care of.

And there, that should do it. Should help, at least, since there's a low supply of readily available ibuprofen, and there's no way Guy's using any of it until one of them gets a real injury.

He stands, offering his hand to Jasper, to help him get up.

"Ah, ah... ow!" Jasper cries out a little, because that fucking hurts more than he thought it would; but with each movement of Guy's hand, it gets a little better. After a minute or so, the rhythmic press and release feels pretty good. Jasper sighs reflexively when Guy stops, almost disappointed.

He stretches his leg experimentally, and damn, Guy has the magic touch or something; Jasper really didn't think he'd be able to do anything for it. "Wow, that actually feels a lot better."

Guy's hand is right there, and Jasper takes it, letting Guy help him to his feet. He tests his weight on his left leg, and it's amazing the difference. He could probably walk for the whole rest of the day, and...

And he's still holding Guy's hand. Shit, that's awkward. He lets go of it, shoving his own hands into his pockets, dropping his eyes.

"Thanks, uh, yeah. Thank you, Guy."

Guy's hand lingers, in the air, for a second after Jasper lets go, before he drops it.

Time to keep going.

He has to be more sensitive to Jasper, though. Guy is about as physically fit as a person can get, short of being a professional athlete. Granted, he's not used to using that to hike through possibly irradiated forests, but strength translates well regardless. Jasper looks like he's spent most of his life in front of a computer.

It's another few minutes before Guy realizes he actually misses Jasper's talking.

He turns, brushing fingertips against Jasper's throat, his voicebox, wondering if that would get the message across.

It's been a long time since anyone's been nice to Jasper. Well, without wanting something in return and fucking him over sooner rather than later.

That's why Guy's kindness trips him up a little. Why he finds himself so caught up still by the way Guy's hands felt. That's gotta be it.

How long has it been since anyone's touched him, anyway? Getting the shit kicked out of him doesn't really count. Not that Jasper really invited anything else, even before all this.

He's getting lost in thought, following Guy's lead through the woods on some kind of autopilot, thinking about his fucked-up life, and all the shit that got him where he is now, where he doesn't know where he is, but Guy...

He inhales sharply at the touch to his throat (is this guy psychic or something?), and what the hell does that mean? Soft and light, almost a question, and yeah, the way Guy's looking at him, it totally is.

Jasper lets go of the breath he's been holding, and it comes out as kind of a shaky laugh. "You want me to talk?" he asks, incredulous. "Man, nobody ever wants that." He's being pretty self-deprecating, as if he has any other settings, but he's smiling all the same.

Guy shrugs. The journey's a pretty silent one, and it's not like he's going to spend any time talking. And somehow, he doubts that Jasper's run-on monologues are going to bother him.

They might get Jasper out-of-breath, that's true. But they can walk slower.

And besides, Guy already traded away his iPod (with several hours of charge left on it) for an extra knife. It's not like there's anything else to listen to.

He nods, like, okay, go ahead.

"All right man, but you'll be sorry."

But fuck, it's actually kind of hard to think of something to say. There's a lot of stuff he wants to know, but Guy's not gonna answer any questions, no matter how curious Jasper is. He probably wouldn't answer them even if he did talk, so no point in asking. All that would do is annoy them both.

Jasper doesn't want to annoy Guy. Not any more than he already has.

"Damn, and now I've got, like, nothing to say," Jasper mumbles self-consciously. "Thanks again for the, back there, that thing you did. I don't think you're a doctor, 'cause doctors aren't usually so... y'know." He gestures toward Guy, acknowledging his, well, Guyness. "But you've had some kind of training, right?"

He doesn't exactly wait for an answer, since he doesn't expect to get one. "Me, I don't know shit about shit, unless you're interested in what a bunch of old dead guys thought about the human psyche." He shrugs, "Or how to fuckin' flip burgers, neither of which is really relevant nowadays."

Guy shakes his head, to indicate that, indeed, he isn't a doctor. Engineer, yes; astrophysicist, yes. But there's no way to communicate those with nods, even if Guy wanted to.

Which he really, really doesn't.

In fact, he'd rather forget all of that entirely - that is, if those skills don't some day prove completely necessary to keep him alive. He certainly has his education, his experience to thank for his continued existence so far.

He smiles a little, at the last bit. Flipping burgers might come in handy, if Jasper can figure out how to cook meat over a fire.

"I guess I can cook, kind of," Jasper continues, thinking out loud. "Though it's not like we're gonna find a fryer out in the wilderness or anything." He winces a little, really hoping that didn't sound as retarded as he thinks it did.

Jasper likes the idea of trying, though. To cook. He doesn't want Guy feeling like he has to take care of him all the time; like he's just some kind of burden.

"I was a boy scout for like, two years," he volunteers, "and I think I probably remember most of that stuff. Y'know, starting campfires, tying knots, all that shit. And I'm pretty resourceful when I wanna be, so don't go feeling like you have to do all the work here. If there's something you want me to do, just tell - just let me know."

That would be helpful. Division of tasks.

...he wonders if Jasper saw one of the explosions. Or survived one of the explosions. So long as he got out, after the explosion, he could have survived a blast, maybe as close as ten, fifteen miles, depending on how people panicked afterwards.

No use, really. He can't ask that question.

He falters, for a second. Doesn't think about what he saw, where he was.