Jesse was a tall skinny form that quite possibly reminded one of a skeleton with pale skin. He was dressed in a pair of plain blue jeans that hung too baggily on his frame, a hole in the right knee, showing a scared knee cap and the lower part of a scar that ran up his thigh, disappearing under the material. His shirt was a quarter sleeve black shirt with a turtleneck that fight faintly tight against his thin body. The little bit of exposed arms were scared terribly, nearly every inch of flesh covered in them. One his left arm, on the outside, looked distinctly like a child drawing of a flower in scars, on the inside of his wrist, a moon, then running along his arm from wrist to almost the sleeve the word lost. On his right arm, disappearing in the sleeve, a ‘Fuc’. Around his skinny waist, a long sleeved, torn and tattered shirt was tied. His hair is healthier then he looks, hanging to his shoulders, black with thick solid lines of premature white hair. His blue eyes only looked piercing set against the unhealthy skin and dark hair.

From his pocket leading up to his ear, is the black wire connecting the headphone to the MP3. He only wore one ear piece, the other dangling at his shoulder. Living Sacrifice’s Ultimate Ending was effectively ruining his hearing in one ear as he walked at a slow, comfortable pace through the darker areas of the city. He’d gotten off of work early tonight, the coffee shop had closed early for some strange reason. What else was he going to do besides walk if he wasn't allowed to cut?

In his hand, sliding the blade open and closed with a frighteningly practiced ease, was a bone handle titanium bladed pocket knife. He could have looked forboding. Instead he just looked bored.

Jules had one ear full of noise herself, cel phone, as she paced under the street lamp where she had left her rental car parked while she looked for her half-brother. She no doubt looked totally out of place in her black skirt suit and pearls while she paced. Her clothes, designer and tailored, not only showed off her height and grace but also flattered her light coffee complexion.

The addresses she'd checked out had all been dead ends. Maybe tommorow she'd have better luck.....today had been about the worst luck she'd ever had, so it really could only get better.....right?

She kept getting shunted between police dispatchers and departemnts while they tried to determine who'd jurisdiction she fell under. It was very annoying.

She should probbaly should feel more nervous in this type of area, but growing up they'd never lived in nice neighborhoods. Her mom had always been so frugal with money. It had paid off though. Jules was well adjusted, happy, and lived comfortably, because of it.

She was only half way listening to the police on the phone as she watched the kid walking towards her, seeming to toy with th e knife more than brandish it. She gave a polite nod at him.

She nodded at him and he paused briefly, everything becoming still and empty, except that knife never paused it’s continuous pattern it seemed to have formed in his hand. His eyes, pale and tired, dropped over her, then back up, assessing her, then the car she paced in front of. Did she need help at all? None of the tires looked flat, and that was the extent of his knowledge on cars. How the change a flat.

He’d only just given up trying to drive his piece of shit that some wouldn’t even call a car. The only way that pile of rust and scrap metal would run is if you hooked it to a horse and used it as a buggy. And Jesse didn’t have the cash to maintenance a horse. They were worse then cars. Stupid beasts.

No. She didn’t have a flat and so Jesse would be no use to her. Why would she be any different? He’s never been of any use to anyone. Most people would find that a good thing, that they aren’t being used. Jesse hated it. But now it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to be of any use. He hated people now anyways.

She didn’t need help, she had a phone to call for help, which, if she needed help, she was probably doing right now. He nodded back and continued at that achingly slow pace.

At this point she was begining to believe the police had no intention of helping her in a timely manner. "I'll just come tommmorow and fill out a report." she said exasperated, finally they'd determined who's juristiction she was in and they wantedher to wait for two hours for someone to come tke a report. She hung up. Rental car ba damned. She'd just walk. This city was insane, especially compared to the laid back pace in Mexico.

completely stupid, she needed to fillout a missing person's report. He wasn't missing, she just didn't know where he was because she'd never met him. She knew there was a reason she hadn't called the police before now. She'd simply hoped to find out to to conduct a records search. The only good thing she'd learned was that her half-brother had no criminal history.

Off the phone now it occured to her that kid looked rather pitiful, it was the pace he was setting....as if he were coming from nowhere and heading there too.

"Are you lost?" she asked him just loud enough for her musical sounding voice to carry to him easily. It's an ironic question, because Jules is the lost one. She has no idea how to get back to the hotel from here.

Jesse paused, didn't turn. Flip, click, swish, flip click... He paused on the knife when he turned his head to look at her again with his blue eyes. Then swish. Flips, click... all over again as if he hadn't paused the process at all. He turned then and looked her over again. She didn't belong here.

"No." He replied. His tone was soft, very quiet, in that 'I'm bored with you already' sort of monotone. His voice was someplace between a barritone and a low tenor. It's hard to tell with teenagers these days.

"Are you, lady?" He doesn't exactly sound friendly, but at least he isn't hotile.

"Probably, I should've rented something with a GPS and autonavigation, it seemed like a rip off though." she admits with traces of humor in her voice. "I suppose I should've endured the expense knowing I might be looking all over the city while I'm here."

He reminds her of one of her younger cousins for some reason, maybe it's simply that bored voice, several of the younger cousins are bord with existance at their ripe young ages. Jules has nver pretneded to understand angst, she's a normally content person, even on a bad day like today.

"Probably should have."

Then he turned to walk away again, his knife swishing and clicking at his thigh. It seemed as if it hadn't even occured to him to ask her where she was looking for, tell her how to get there. Really, he could have asked, it had occured to him. But for the most part, Jesse minds his own business and unless you ask, he doesn't offer. And she didn't ask, so he wasn't offering.

He began to move again at that so slow pace, the knife flicking away. It caught the edge of his pants, tore through without a problem, knicked his leg. Sharp. He looked down, shifted the knife in his hand, touched the wound, then ignored it, shifted the knife again and began all over.

"Probably a rip off anyways." The GSP he means, not the pants of the cut.

She'd seen him cut himself, he seemed unconcearned, definitely like her younger cousins, the ones her mom had always called "hood rats". They were so perpetually full of young urban rage, but they never did anything to fix their problems, instead they wore them like a badge.

"You might want to get that looked at." she told him as she leaned in the car and got out a map. Jules isn't completely without resources. She figures out where she is by the street light and then where she wants to be.

"You need a lift anyplace?" she asks him while she folds the map up.

"No need." For a lift or to get the cut checked out.

Jesse is far from a hood rat. Really, he hasn't got too many problems. He was just an angsty kid and he'd sucked himself so low into issues that by the time he realized there really wasn't much wrong with his life, he'd been sunk so far that he was finding hard to climb back out.

"Look. You need some help, lady?" He turned around finally, his eyes on her car, not her. There wasn't much he could do if her car was dead. Living Sacrific turned into Slipknot killers are quiet and he yanked the peice from his ear and let it dangle around his neck.

"I think I have it sorted out now, at least where the Marriot is. So unless you have a way to accurately scry for the locations of long lost relatives, I'm not sure you can help."

(short and pitiful I beg a thousand pardons)

Jesse shrugged. "Why would you do that?"

Look for relitives that is. Alright, so he's figured out that his life really wasn't so terrible but that doesn't mean he's willing to forgive his family for anything. He shook his head so that his hair was shaken back away from his eyes and peered at the map.

"Mariot? Not from town?" Obviously, if she's staying in a hotel. "Now I understand why your dressed like that driving that down here."

She's not from around here, not with that New Orleans accent of hers. "I'm the executor of my mother's will.....So I have to find him, at first I was really nervous, but I found one brother in Mexico already and he's really great, he gave me the impression my other brother is too." she answered.

She did wonder about their step sister though, all talk of her and her father had been strained and awkward with Marcus. When he spoke of them Jules could tell he feared them.

There are a lot of accents in a big city like this. And they live in the city. In such a big place, you can never tell. He looked her over for a minute.

"Your brother or hers?" Because...well....why wouldn't she have known her own brother right?

"Mine, My dad was married to their mom, and not mine, it's wierd. I never knew him, he died in the Marines." she explained about her dad. He must wonder how she didn't know her own sibblings, it was an unusual situation she knew.

If they were going to chit chat she might as well introduce hrself, it was good manners after all. "My name's Julliette, but everyone calls me Jules." she said offering her hand. She inwardly braced, sometimes when she touched people she saw things. It wasn't all the time, it happened most of the time with objects, but she could never be too careful.

Saw things? Like lots of blood, self inflicted pain, and self made stitches? Nah! Not Jesse!

He stared at her hand for a moment, his head drawn back a little as if debating whether her hand would turn into a snake and bite him. Finally he took a few steps forward and switch the knife to his other hand, offering his right, scared, matted hand. My what long fingers you have.

"Jesse."

He listened to her explination of the family and shook his head. "Not weird. It's called an affair." He shrugged. Simple.

Yep she can see that sort of thin, little bits and snatches filter through her mind's eye. Her hand goes part way limp through the shake. Imagine if she touched one of the knives.

"It's just weird that she didn't take it to her grave, I meant." she said as the handshake ended. She could see all those scars, and had a pretty good idea how many more there were.

"No one stopped you....." she said softly still looking at his wrist.

"Well if she was dieing why ke..." keep it a secret never left his lips as he was interupted by her soft comment. He'd noticed her hand going limp, assumed it was just her. Now he was becoming suspicious. Jesse put his other hand, knife in it, blade closed, against her's and pushed her hand off his other.

Then he set about untieing the shirt from around his waist and pulling on the ratty long sleeved shirt on without buttoning it up. The long sleeves covered his arms and hung past his hands, his hair in his face. His pants sagged down, showing more scars peeking out from the pants and the shirt and he tugged them up.

"What the fuck are you?" He's tired of all this magic shit happening everywhere he turns. It unnerves him. He folds his arms over his chest, as if that'll protect him and hide his scars. He doesn't care that he's scared, he just doesn't want attintion drawn to them so much.

(I didn't meanyou had to touch her with the knife....shrugs)

"Sometimes I see things, I'm sorry. I'm never sure it will happen. My great-grandmother can do it too. I didn't mean to startle you. "she tells him. She really is sorry to have spooked him.

The knife was much stronger, when it touched her, so many images it hurt. She closed her eyea a minute and swallowed hard. It took her a while to push the images away.

"Why would you want to hurt so much?" again very quiet, she doesn't question that he does it, but why he does. His comment about her fingers is lost in the echoes of images she hasn't completely banished.

((He didn't touch her with the knife. He had it in that hand folded up so she didn't touch it. But whatever works.))

His arms seemed to tighten over his chest and he scowled at her unhappily. The knife flipped outward and inward again. Then outward again.

"It takes away the hurt." That's why. Why'd he answer though? Usually Jesse plays the part of the incooperative snot. He scowled at her again. "None of your damned business," he replied after a minute, trying to regain his teenage angst and ignor how unnorving it is to first meet your gaurdian angel, then meet a girl who turns your knife to stone, then a woman who eats metal, pukes it up, heals you, then this. A woman who sees what you do. Sees!!! Freaky!

(ah well I'm a flake then, I thought he pushed off with the knife handle exposed, but we'll go with what we have, I'm lazy)

IC

"Relax, I'm leaving, there are much freakier things in this world than me, but I obviously bother you. I'm going to go." she told him moving to her car. HE tensed up a lot, should it be so scray that she could see what he had done, you'd think it should be scariier for her........

IT's not scary. He's secretive, possessive.

Jesse is a cutter to hide other pain in his body, other things that can't be helped anymore. He's dieing. Slowly. From the inside. And this focuses on a different pain. He's technically a massochist of sorts, a cutter in all ways. But he doesn't want the attintion that other kids seek. He hides the scars to keep away the attintion.

"I know that! You think I don't know that?" That their are freakier things. He'd met one not too long ago, and another. And this one. He loved one. No matter how much he liked Engle, he was still something not human, something with wings. Not normal. Unnerving. He flipped his blade again, knicked a finger where he'd lost his concentration, flipped it closed and knicked the finger again. Didn't matter.

She was leaving. Going away. "Don't tell anyone." He replied. "I don't...want them to know."

She paused at that, gave him a puzzled look. Why would she, who would she tell, for that matter who would believe her. "I won't, be careful though." she couldn't think of anything else to say. If she knew what to do to help she would, but hse didn't, and he didn't seem to want help at all.

She unlocked the car door, still watching him....."What's so aweful though, I'm sorry, I'll go." she says before sitting in the car. What she sees isn't what has her attention here, it's the mystery behind what she sees, the unanswered questions about cause and effect.

He watched her, swallowed.

"Nothing."

One word. Another flip of the knife, this one missed his finger, he looked down, watched the two thin trails of blood from the previous two cuts and frowned. He closed the knife slower, making another cut to match them, slowly. Then he plundged his hand into his pocket and brought it back out without the knife.

"Don't have to be careful." Becuase he's trying to stop. Because Engle told him to.

"I didn't mean about the knife, I meant walking around out here alone at night, be careful doing that....You have someplace to go, don't you?" she asked, sounding far more consearned than a random stranger aught to.

If no one had stopped him from cutting himself, it occured to her, maybe there was no one to stop him. Maybe it wasn't that no one cared, maybe there just was no one. She didn't know which was more aweful.

"Yeah I got a place."

He sounded a little miffed by that. People always thought he was homeless or that he couldn't aford his own place.

"I ain't poor."

Maybe not. But he's very, very far from well off. Actually, he had begun this because when he'd gotten depressed and moppy, no one noticed. Not eating had been the next step, and no one noticed that either. Now his stomach problems drove him to this alteritive pain, and he didn't want anyone to notice.

Then Engle noticed. Then Viv. Now her. Too many knew. He frowned at the ground.

"I wasn't trying to say you were poor, I was more worried you were alone, I should have said someone.....not someplace....." she trailed off. She was far too sensative at times, why was she worried about him, he didn't seem to be. It seemed her words were all wronganyway, she wasn't offering any comfort here, simply rubbing slt in wounds. She really should go, but for some readon she wasn't able to just drive off and forget about it. Even if she tried she'd be up half the night wondering.....

Jesse scowled again.

"No I....Yes. I've got someone. He's probably around here somewhere." He spun slowly in a circle in place, his blue eyes running over the area, looking for Engle. He'd said he followed him often. Jesse never knew when he was being followed or not anymore.

"S'no. I'm not alone." Not most of the time. He loosened his arms around himself, knowing she wasn't going to tell dozens of people and get him locked away in a psych ward.

"Okay, just be careful, I really am going now. I hope things get better for you." she told him pulling the car door shut. She closed her eyes a minute and took a deep breath. there are many things she is better off not knowing, and she knows it, she is just going to have to wonder and perhaps pace around the hotel room. She could tell she wasn't helping here.

Once she'd composed herself she started the car.