Thread: The Only Rules That Matter: Bloodlines (Corsair&Madam Mim)

It didn't seem like a bad neighborhood, he decided. Not the quietest or most upscale, mind, but nicer than Oakland Army Base had been. And s damn sight better than Qung Tri, or Cam L, or any of those flyspeck rice paddies in Nam. Five years he'd been there, making Sergeant and then a field promotion to Second Lieutenant after their platoon leader - a jug-eared West Point volunteer - had caught a bullet with his face at Song Ve. Like the man said, War was hell. But John Samson Sparrow had been pretty good at it, and Hell wasn't much worse than being a part-Apache Negro man in Texas, so he'd reenlisted. Probably still be there, too, if he hadn't been medically discharged. So now, here he was in Baltimore with a GI Bill and an acceptance to John Hopkins University and 300 in his pocket. He'd stayed at the Y for a week, before he'd found an ad for a room to rent. The woman on the other end of the phone had sounded nice enough, and the rent fit his mostly nonexistent budget, so beggars and discharged soldiers couldn't be choosers. Ignoring some of the stares he was getting - as much for his olive drab field jacket as for his brown skin - Jack pushed open the stairwell door behind the machine shop and limped up a flight of stairs. Second floor wasn't bad, he decided. Not enough to make his leg ache too badly. And finding number three wasn't hard, since there were only two doors on the floor. Drawing a deep breath, he knocked. After a moment multiple locks clicked and the door swung open to reveal a pretty white woman in a beaded vest and hip-hugger bell-bottoms and not much else. Can I help you? she said, offering a sunny smile that faded and turned nervous as she looked him over. Oh, yeah. This was gonna go well. Yeah, I'm... Suddenly, the smile was back. I guess you're Jack. Yep, that's me. And you must be May? She tugged absently on a lock of her frizzy hair and giggled self-consciously. Sorry, you just surprised me was all. I didn't know...you didn't say...I mean, woulda been nice to know that you were...y'know... Oh, fuck yeah. This was gonna be Goddamn great . Hey, look. I ain't looking for trouble. I just need a place... In the military, she whispered, leaning in like she was telling a secret. He tried not to stare at the way her tits swayed as she did. ...what? He blinked. Oh, the coat. Nah, mustered out a couple of weeks ago. Well, I guess it's alright if you left all that back in the jungle, she decided, stepping aside. I mean, you had to get here in peace somehow, right? Don't want any trouble, y'know? Come on in, don't be shy. I made cookies! She smiled brightly, as if proud of herself. Cookies, Jack repeated, feeling like he was being hit by a bubbly truck as he stepped in. The place wasn't bad. Small, but bigger than the barracks he was used to, with a threadbare couch and some beanbag chairs and a bookcase. The odor of cookies mingled with something floral and some sort of incense, and everything looked to have been salvaged and repaired. That's the bathroom, she pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, my room's on the right, yours is on the left. There's... no doors? he asked, staring down the short hall. Both bedrooms just had bead curtains. Well, guess I'll deal. Walking with a slight limp, he headed into his bedroom and tossed his duffel bag on the bed. Well, mattress. It was just a mattress on the floor in one corner, with a closet and an empty dresser to go with it. Beads rattled as May leaned against the doorframe. My last roommate got drafted, so I guess I don't gotta worry about that with you. He chuckled, tossing his jacket on top of the bag. Underneath, he wore a brown t-shirt that stretched over muscle as he moved. Nope. Got drafted back in 63, and I doubt they'll call me back. He glanced back at her. You cool with this? Me taking this room and all? So yeah, that room's yours, she assured him, but if you ever get lonely or anything I'm just right across the hall, you can come on in. I like snuggling, I'm a snuggle monster. He gaped at that, just a little, before shutting his mouth. If she'd been a sister, he'd be down with that. But a white woman? Well, he was still down for that, but he needed to check the lay of the land. No sense getting lynched over a bit of white tail, even fine white tail like hers. She bit her lip and grinned. Sooo...is this all your stuff? I mean, do ya need help moving in or do you want something to eat? I've got sandwich stuff. Or are cookies good for now? What you see is what you get, he assured her. Might need a hand with moving stuff in once I get some stuff, though. Army don't exactly encourage collecting. And cookies sound good, yeah. He followed her back into the living room and flopped onto the couch to unlace his boots. They were practical things, not stylish - battered and scarred black combat boots that laced up over the ankles. He sighed with relief and wiggles his toes as the first boot came off. He didn't wiggle the toes of his left foot when that boot came off, though. After all, there weren't any toes. Just a foot-shaped block of dark brown plastic that thumped a little as he set it down. That's better, he grunted. Hey, you need a hand with those cookies?