[ Jake laughs. It's the kind of expression that he throws his head back for, loud over the rumble of the engine and the steady thump of tires. In most lights, it looks a lot more like antagonism. In the warm light of day, with him driving Big Ol' Boy's clunker of a machine that would bring Rooster's to shame, what it really is is surprise.
Everything's fair to Jake Seresin: pride and joy of Texas, the Navy's golden flyboy, and #1 natural success story of his orthodontist's office. But ain't it a hoot when Phoenix's wizzo is right on the money.
(He really is going to be fucking pissed off if either of them die.)
Uncharacteristically, Hangman settles into silence for the rest of the drive. The streets start getting homier, with picket fences and apartments right on the beachfront, or at least within walking distance. He pulls up to the curb of a block of four apartments smushed together, bright orange roofing and cream ivory stucco exteriors. The car lurches a little when Jake pulls the parking break up. And, promptly, sort of— just gets out of the car.
Rather than leave Bob in the lurch, he swings around passenger-side. Leans into his rolled down window, both elbows perched on the door frame. In what Jake clearly considers a show of team cohesion, he claps his hand, firmly but not violently, on Bob's shoulder. ]
Thanks for the ride, Bobby boy. [ And then he grins. A flash of white, and then he intones, very seriously: ]
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🎀 perhaaaaps?
Everything's fair to Jake Seresin: pride and joy of Texas, the Navy's golden flyboy, and #1 natural success story of his orthodontist's office. But ain't it a hoot when Phoenix's wizzo is right on the money.
(He really is going to be fucking pissed off if either of them die.)
Uncharacteristically, Hangman settles into silence for the rest of the drive. The streets start getting homier, with picket fences and apartments right on the beachfront, or at least within walking distance. He pulls up to the curb of a block of four apartments smushed together, bright orange roofing and cream ivory stucco exteriors. The car lurches a little when Jake pulls the parking break up. And, promptly, sort of— just gets out of the car.
Rather than leave Bob in the lurch, he swings around passenger-side. Leans into his rolled down window, both elbows perched on the door frame. In what Jake clearly considers a show of team cohesion, he claps his hand, firmly but not violently, on Bob's shoulder. ]
Thanks for the ride, Bobby boy. [ And then he grins. A flash of white, and then he intones, very seriously: ]
You've still got my twenty, right?