lady_mab | Meliora - Emanate

No Kaito

Jonas comes in late one evening, too close to last call to be able to make it worth having come at all. He looks rough, tired. Like he's dragging his feet.

It's been a slow night, and there are only a few people left in Temple at this point. There's just me and one other bartender, though I'm prepared to send him home.

Instead of pulling up a spot at the bar, Jonas takes up residence in one of the booths and tucks his feet up on the cushion next to him.

I know the signs well enough. I'll talk to him later, when there's less to take care of.

Last call comes and goes, and the lights come back on at their full strength. I ignore Jonas on in the booth as everyone else shuffles out into the bleak wee hours of the morning. I send home the other employee and start the long task of closing up.

Throughout the whole process, Jonas doesn't say anything.

"Listen," I finally tell him, setting the stools on top of the bar. "If you're not going to help and you're not going to chat, then you can leave. I'm not letting you spend the night."

He lifts his head so that I can see him over the back of the booth. His contacts are gone, and his eyes are a pale gray color. "I'm not cut out for manual labor," he says, sniffing indifferently at the invitation.

"I didn't think so. Why are you even here?"

Jonas shrugs and turns away so all I can see is the top of the back of his head. "I just felt like going somewhere."

"It's going to be 3am soon."

"I know."

"And that 'somewhere' couldn't be home?"

His head shifts to the side. Despite how bedraggled the rest of him looks, the purple curls still maintain their perfect bounce. He'd probably let himself die before his hair looked less than stellar. "I'm not in the mood right now."

I sigh and shake my head, turning back to my task at hand.

It's another few minutes before Jonas speaks up again. "I hear that you haven't gone in for the recent round of shots."

"No, I haven't." There's a document on my phone that serves as a reminder for things pertaining to the game. Things that I might be forgetting. Lionel has a similar list. We both decided that it would be the smartest thing to do.

"Interesting. And how have you been finding it?"

It's a strange question, but at this point I'm too tired to parse whatever sort of hidden meaning he might be aiming for. "Problematic. More difficulty than it's worth. No wonder they seem to be able to keep us all under control when I wake up some mornings without even remembering what I'm supposed to be angry about."

He snorts in laughter and turns away from me. "What a convenient way to quell the revolution."

I pause, leaning against the vacuum that I have been unsuccessfully using the last few minutes. "Ayn has been hosting that blog. You tell me how the revolution has been going."

Even though I can't see his expression from this angle, I know he's frowning. It's the way that his shoulders tense and his head tilts forward a degree. "It's going nowhere fast, that's for sure. But a fight can't be won on words alone."

"Is this a call to action?" I joke, but Jonas pushes himself to his feet and stare at me from across the room. "What?"

"I'm debating how much I think you might want this without having to tell you the answer..." he says cryptically. Which, in itself, causes me to want to know more.

"Tease."

"Hardly." He uses a finger to flick his bangs out of his eyes. "There's been a lot going on, Stud Muffin. I don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you. I’m a selfish asshole, after all. It wouldn’t do me any good to tell you things that I had to fight so hard to find out."

I push the vacuum up against the bar and cross to him, anger fueling my steps.

Jonas' eyes widen when he looks up to see me. He doesn't have enough time to react as I shove him back against the booth. "Don't give me that shit, Jonas Quinn."

He manages to catch himself on the side of the seat before he can topple into it. His gaze finds mine, mouth slightly parted, speechless for once.

"You have your own team to look out for, I get it. But I have mine. Whatever sort of vague half-truths you feel appropriate to spew in my direction are all well and good if you think they'll protect your team, but don't you dare think for a moment that I'll take them."

The familiar smirk takes over his expression. "That would imply that I was trying to give you anything."

My hand moves towards him, and he flinches back. Just enough to know that I won. Good. "We are in this together, asshole."

"It's every team for themselves, don't you realize that?" He attempts to pull himself upright but I shove him back again. "Jesus, you certainly know how to be the bully on campus, don't you?"

"You don't want to see me being a bully. This is me trying to smack some sense back into someone I thought was a friend."

He rolls his eyes. It's amazing how different he looks without the contacts. Eerie. A completely different person. He's harder to read, eyes like ghosts watching me from beneath long lashes. "We're all trying to get those that matter to us out of the city. We were nothing more than allies of convenience."

I don't know what kind of game he is playing, but right now I really want to give in to the urge to punch him. Or throttle him. I can't quite decide, and I'm not terribly picky. Just whatever will wipe that smug look off his face. "We were told that it’s not a single ticket out. What has happened to make you suddenly change your mind?"

“A new development.” Jonas studies his nails, since he's seen how well trying to get up goes over for him. "We all have to make sacrifices."

Lionel gave us a cryptic update, unwilling to tell us more before he had completely figured out the puzzle put before him. I wonder if my memory is a necessary sacrifice. I wonder if Rhys and Lionel and Liala are considered necessary sacrifices in the grand scheme of things.

"Not like you're implying. You're team is still alive, aren't they?" I mean to pass it off as a joke, but some degree of trepidation works its way into my voice. "They're still a part of this dumb game?"

"Until they leave this city, I take my responsibility as their Informant very seriously."

I maintain eye contact this entire conversation, watching the little movements of his face and his fingers. The ticks and tells that I've picked up from from the people participating in Meliora the last few months.

Everything that might indicate a lie is absent from his behavior.

"That is the truest thing you've said all evening," I grumble and step back enough to allow him to push himself into a proper sitting position. "So why the sudden visit? I haven't heard from you in ages, not since that text."

"Yes, what a charming little tete-a-tete that was. How is it going with Steady Eddie, by the way?" His lips curl into a coquettish smile and it's all that I can do to not step forward to give him another scare.

I run a hand back through my hair, putting more distance between us so I can lean against one of the free-standing tables. "Don't try and change the subject. I'm asking about what has happened to your and your team."

Jonas sits forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "I think Ayn's going to get her revolution, but not in the way that she desires. I think Fletcher is willing to do whatever she asks him to do, which is utterly disgusting." He picks at his nail beds like the petulant child he is. "She'll get her happy ending, if he has any say about it."

I wonder how Lysander must fit into this. He didn’t say much about Fletcher at dinner, and what he did say didn’t imply any kindness. Ayn didn't speak about him at all, but their brief interaction at the holiday party was enough to give away that they have a very close friendship.

How does Jonas fit into it, I wonder. They clearly know and utilize his background as a criminal. So what is he to either of them, especially at this point.

"Do you think there really is a train out of here at the end of all of this?" I finally ask. "Or do you think it's a lie?"

"I really hope there is, because I don't know how much longer I can tolerate breathing the same air as the harpy." Jonas rolls his eyes and tosses his hands into the air. "The sooner I can get rid of her, the better."

I take a breath, wanting to push a question that has been burning in the back of my mind this entire conversation, but I bite it back. There's a look on his face that indicates he won't give me a straight answer, even if I do ask.

So I keep the thought to myself, about how curious it is that he references only Ayn. As if she will be the only one leaving, as if she will be the only one to get what she wants at the end of all of this. Where does Fletcher fit in? Perhaps he'll be staying.

My shoulders slump and I force myself to return to the cleaning. The sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can go to sleep. Another day to push aside.

Another day before the end of Meliora hopefully arrives.

Jonas continues to make no effort to help me or even uphold a conversation topic. I press him for answers one last time before giving up.

“How much longer do you think this will last?”

He doesn’t respond right away. At first, I wonder if he’s left without me noticing, or hasn’t even heard my question.

But when I turn to look, he has a thoughtful expression on his face.

Jonas lifts his head to meet my gaze, and again I’m caught in the pale tones. “Not much longer.” He says it with the same honesty that he spoke with earlier.

I wish I could tell Rhys that it will be okay with the same amount of certainty. I wish I had something better to offer than, It will be over soon, and you will be on the train out of here.

In the end, Jonas doesn’t stick around to finish closing up the bar. He lets himself out, and I’m left standing in an empty Temple with nothing but Jonas’ convictions to chase themselves endlessly around my head.

As I lock up behind him, I wonder if I’ll even remember it in the morning.