"Now, we are welcoming a new student today; Jonathan Crane. I hope you'll all be good classmates to him." The teacher said it encouragingly enough. The class didn't look that enthused.
Of course, before when they had only just learned that there was a new boy joining, there had been some hopeful whispering among the girls, wondering whether he'd be hot. A few of the boys may have idly wondered whether they were about to get anyone new for their various team sports.
It broke up the monotony of the day a little, but they had clearly decided that the boy himself wasn't worth much excitement. Built like a stick figure, glasses, the worst haircut known to men and a clothing style that lacked any pizzazz. It was Gotham, even the preps tended to have some of their own flair added.
"Introduce yourself please, Jonathan. Just a few words about where you're from."
Edward had been writing a note to pass over to someone, but he leaned back now. Looking the newcomer over he felt the teacher had given him a challenge - it was how he approached life to not ever get bored with how dull it actually was - and he was trying to work out what information he could before anything was said. Jonathan Crane. He liked the name, there was some poetry there.
"I'm Jon." Jonathan said, short and simple, hoping that it was enough. It was, technically, a few words. He hated this part, he hated standing up in front of his peers and he hated public speaking. The fewer words, the better. He was stuck with the last gift his father had given him and until he had conquered it, he didn't want to highlighted.
Alas.
"Anything else, Jonathan. Where are you from? Any hobbies?" The teacher prompted and Jonathan balled his hands into a fist. He made eye contact with the teacher, irritated and somewhat defeated.
"I'm f-f-f--rom" He got stuck on the first part. Great. Fuck. He went red and hissed out the last part. "Georgia." Was that enough to let him sit down? There, he was a fool, it had been done.
"Welcome to G-G-G-Gotham, Jonny boy." Jack called out from the back, earning some laughs from his fellow classmate.
"Hey, settle down." Harvey prompted, as class president. He took his role very seriously. "He's not done."
Jonathan looked at the guy in bafflement. He wasn't?! He was pretty sure he was.
"Are you a n-n-n-n-nerd?" Barbara asked helpfully, which earned some more laughs. And she blew a kiss to Harvey. No harm meant, right?
Ah, that kind of mockery really was the base form of humour, no wonder Jack took to it immediately. And it looked as if the white knight had found himself yet another windmill to defeat.
Edward decided to cut it short before Harvey had to go full class president. "He's Jon, he's from Georgia - clearly rural - he hasn't been here long and he's not a fan of the rain." That much was pretty obvious. Some people were giving him looks, varying from amused to annoyed. "He likes reading, he's a smoker. He's got an irregular sleep pattern and he really wants to shut up and sit down. There's some free spots, Jonny. Pick one."
"...you might as well sit down, Jonathan. Edward, no one asked you to speak." The teacher sighed, turning to her desk.
"They so rarely do, which is a shame. If someone did, the class might actually learn something..." He sighed, theatrically, then stuck his tongue out maturely at the boy that had tossed a pen at his head and missed. Same old.
Jonathan picked a place as far away from everyone as he could get and sat down, glaring straight ahead at the board. He just needed a stupid high school certificate. Just two more years and it was over.
He idly cast a glance towards Edward. It was... impressive, if not a little weird, that he knew enough to introduce him. Though nothing was excessively hard to read. He supposed his sleeping habits and dislike of the rain were hardly difficult to pull out. The reading was interesting though - how did he get that one?
The lesson began and the class was pretty rowdy, all things considered. There was constant noise, everyone was yelling and sharing in jokes. It was quite the tedious class. Jonathan wondering if it was at all possible to get his GED online.
It would save from the noise, the mockery and being deduced by a theatre kid.
That was all that was written on the rolled up piece of paper that Edward flicked onto Jonathan's desk. He had no way of knowing that that was precisely what was going through the boy's head, but given it was his own thought more often or not, it was not actually an impressive guess.
He felt he had to do it, honestly. He had kept his deductions to a minimum because he had been told before that it was invasive otherwise - a hard-learned lesson in many a case - and now he still had the urge to prove that he was better than that bare bone deduction. Jonathan was new here, he didn't want him to miss out on the depth of his intelligence.
Jonathan's apartment had a noxious smell to it. Like bleach and strong cleaning chemicals mixed with smoke and instant noodles. It was quite unpleasant. The lightbulb in the living room was broken so it was a dark place with sparse furniture and limited sunlight. Frankly, it was a dank hole but it wasn't like Jonathan minded. A few candles and a torch did wonders for him.
His only possessions were books, stacked around the house in various piles, but otherwise that was mostly it. He had one armchair that looked like it had seen better days and a questionable couch. All of it came with the apartment, of course. Waste not, want not.
Jonathan sat in the armchair, reading his book and frowning. There was this irritating noise in the background that didn't seem to want to go away and he tried to tune it out but it kept getting more persistent. He looked up and huffed. Oh. The doorbell. That was the sound.
Coming to the door, he opened it with the chain on and looked through the small gap at Holden. Fuck. He slammed the door in his face, undid the chair and reopened it. Leaving it open, Jonathan returned to his armchair and his book.
"Wow. Thanks for opening." That was a lot better than last time. Holden closed the door behind himself, put the chain back and then walked inside to, as it turned out, stand near Jonathan. There wasn't really much else to sit in, because the couch was filled with books and he didn't want to move them, just in case it upset Jonathan.
Now he had to think about how to approach this. No room for loopholes, that was the rule when dealing with Jonathan. "Tell me about school." Not a question, just a straight-up demand. "I need to know for the report."
"Ssssss-- okay." Jonathan stammered behind his book as he slipped the page to look at a particularly interesting diagram of the adrenaline system. He stared at it for a while and then looked at Holden, who was still looking expectant. Was he supposed to add more? "Idiots. Loud. T-T-Trash can."
"Right. I'm sure you haven't made any friends, but have you at least talked to someone? Just one person. That's a fair minimum to set, don't you think? One conversation with a person." He had been informed by Jonathan that he didn't want, need or desire friendship, but Holden wanted him to at least try and talk to people. It was healthier that way.
"One. Edward." Jonathan gave Holden what he wanted as he set aside his book and looked at him. The sooner he did this, the sooner he had peace again. "He introduced me. He deduced me. He said goodbye to me. I sss--spoke to him."
There. That was his basic human interaction of the day done. He was sure Holden would be very proud. Edward was smart, loud and admittedly, very handsome.
It was afternoon, time for football training, theatre rehearsals and other such extra-curricular activities. Edward had little interest in the former and was an active part of the latter, but he'd walked out of the auditorium right now, as he wasn't a part of the scene being rehearsed right now. Nobody ever appreciated his helpful input on how things should be played, so he felt it best to remove himself a little from the stage for the time being. Instead he stepped outside, both to get some fresh air and to hang around near the windows to the auditorium, so he'd not miss his cue.
Which made it all the more intriguing to see Jonathan Crane smoking not far from said windows. Go figure.
Edward grinned, hands in his pockets as he approached the other boy. "Are you familiar with the works of Oscar Wild, Jonathan? I've been thinking about that quote. You know. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness."
He shrugged, stopping a step or two away from Jonathan and looking him over. "I can't say I disagree with it. Although you, my friend, are not mediocre. So, from you? Perhaps your watchful eye is the sincerest form of flattery you have to offer."
With a nod of his head, he appeared grateful enough. "It is. Flattering, that is."
Jonathan knew he should stop but he didn't really intend to go any further than watching. He liked to see Edward out and about, being so alive and so open. He was loud, daring, brash and intelligent. Every emotion was big and bold. It was addicting to watch. So what if he observed? If he thought about Edward? Maybe jacked off to him a few times.
He was handsome, charismatic and hell, he probably would love to be worshipped in whatever manner he could get.
It was just hard, when being confronted, to know where to put his energies. He didn't want to overly flatter Edward, it seemed dangerous for his ego, but he didn't want to deny it. Seemed like a pointless act that they both knew was a lie.
Exhaling smoke, he looked at Edward and then back to the window. "I like to watch." Jonathan forced out as he stared at the play, not as enthralled now Edward was gone. "It's so effortless for s-s-some."
"Effortless? That's what you think. I got up at five thirty today just to have time to do my hair before school." A slight exaggeration. Well, he had gotten up at five thirty and he had done his hair at the coffee shop he'd met Echo and Query at, but mostly it was because they wanted to talk before school. Still, his hair continued to look great several hours later, so he had no regrets.
He watched Jonathan rather than bothering with the windows. Seemed only fair. "Speaking of Oscar Wilde, do you know about his poem 'The Sphinx'? A personal favourite."
Stepping closer, he ended up leaning against the wall by the window, which also put him within touching distance of Jonathan. He looked at him as he quoted from the poem. "I weary of your sullen ways. I weary of your steadfast gaze, your somnolent magnificence. Your horrible and heavy breath makes the light flicker in the lamp, and on my brow I feel the damp and dreadful dews of night and death, your eyes are like fantastic moons that shiver in some stagnant lake, your tongue is like a scarlet snake that dances to fantastic tunes."
He felt it was quite fitting, in a way, which made him recite it with all the more vigour.
"Your p-pulse makes p-p-poisonous melodies and your b--lack throat is like the hole. Left by s-some torch or b---" He got stuck at the end of finishing the poem and defeat won out in the end as he halted there and shrugged. He had read Wilde, every poem and play, just as he read anything he had access to. He adored any kind of fiction, it was a beautiful escape from how tedious the world truly was.
He gestured vaguely at himself and then at Edward. "Effortless." He could speak clearly, without idiocy and without fumble. He could sound like that and command attention, to be worthy of praise and witness. And all Jonathan had was an embarrassing shambles.
Edward was so frustratingly effortless. He wanted to love him and hurt him at the same time. He inhaled sharply and flicked his cigarette aside. "For you, it's art. For me, it's exerc-cises."
Edward had been patient in waiting for Jonathan to end the verse, but he accepted when he didn't, inclining his head. "Admittedly, 'Saracenic tapestries' is a tongue twister even for a tongue as skilled as mine."
He wiggled his tongue playfully, then pulled it back and tried to imagine what it must be like for Jonathan. It was a difficult mental exercise, at it turned out. Edward was used to feeling weak, but he always knew how to talk. Often to his detriment, the way he could not help himself but kept antagonising his father. "I understand that it's an effort for you. If it's any consolation, I believe it is an effort well worth it. I like hearing what you have to say. You are much more worth talking to than the bulk of the population at this school."
"He t-thrusts his f-fists against the p-p-p-p..." Jonathan trailed off in annoyance as he talked to himself, walking through the narrows and towards his home. He had been working, by some definition, just some dealing and inductions into how the drugs really flowed here. It was fascinating, if not a little tedious. He had a bit of cash now, extra besides his cheque, meaning he could start buying stuff for his own drugs. He needed chemicals and they didn't come cheap.
"He thrusts his f-fists against the p--p-po-post and s-s-s--" Jonathan huffed in annoyance, not caring that he was walking along and talking to himself. No one in the Narrows truly cared. Half the freaks here talked to themselves.
"He th-thrusts his fists against the--" Coming to pause, Jonathan noticed that glaringly obvious green colouring and frowned. That guy had a jacket like Ed... oh. That guy was Edward. He tried not to stare but he couldn't help it. "Against the post."
There was a bit of an issue he'd run into. Edward had grabbed his jacket before leaving, slamming the door shut and running down the stairs with his dad's voice yelling after him in the way that still made him feel like he was a little boy. It was good to have his jacket, but he'd realised he hadn't brought his wallet. He was out of cash and post midnight on the streets of the Narrows with nowhere to go.
Perhaps he could return home later. Right now it was too early to risk it. His body hurt, but he knew his face was mostly fine. Bit of a bruise on one side that was easily covered up with his hair, a split lip. He'd run in time, which he decided to few as tactical rather than cowardly.
He felt a bit at a loss, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, walking down a street and trying not to draw attention. Then he heard a familiar voice and he had to smile, despite the rather miserable circumstances. He turned to face Jonathan, continuing the phrase. "And still insists..."
"He s-s-sees the ghost." Jonathan finished as he took in the state of Edward. Family argument, one assumed. Not an unusual sight around here. Sometimes he wished his father had been that simple. That it had just been beatings. It was cruel in a way, yes, but there was a simplicity to it that made it less frustrating and confusing.
It was strange to once again envy Edward, even as he stood in the drizzling rain with a bruise face. It was quite the habit.
Jonathan put his hands into his pockets and then pulled out ten dollars, holding it up for Edward to see. "Hungry?"
Edward looked at the note that Jonathan pulled out and then took a step closer for an even better look. Whatever it was he saw or whether he already knew and simply wanted to be dramatic, he made a show of drawing his conclusions, turning his head to face Jonathan. "Falcone already. Oh, my. How quick you further your career, Mr Crane. Truly impressive."
If not worrying. He shrugged, deciding that he didn't have much to lose and the drizzling was really dampening his mood. He wanted to get inside somewhere. "What are you feeling, Jonny? If you pay, I'm all yours."
"I need money." Jonathan elaborated as he started to walk ahead of Edward, assuming the other would soon catch him up. "F-Follow." He was going to eat some fried chicken but he didn't feel like stuttering over the two very difficult words in such a stupid way so he found it would be easier to just guide Edward along.
"He th-thrusts his fists against the p-p-- shit." Jonathan huffed in annoyance, still mumbling to himself. He was going to fucking master this shit, even if it killed him. Then Falcone's goons would at least have one last thing to laugh at. He wasn't allowed a better dealing area until he didn't sound like fucking Porky Pig. "He th-thrusts his f-f-f-"
Obviously they weren't even supposed to be in here, neither of them, being under 21. But it was past midnight in the Narrows and no one gave a shit. Not about Jonathan selling drugs in the corner of the dimly lit bar and not about Edward walking in, brilliant green jacket and black eye and definitely underage.
He spotted Jonathan right away and made his way over there, to lean against the wall near him and pat himself down. "Damn. I'm short on cash. Here you had me tempted to start my drug experimentation early."
It had been a long night already. Part of his thoughts were on his sister and he didn't like that, he was trying to distract himself from that. Perhaps drugs really wouldn't be the worst way to do that.
"Drugs are an expensive habit." Jon told Edward as he stayed leaning against the wall, just waiting around in case. The weather was awful, as always, and he was freezing but he had to do it. No one was really buying around here but it was a test. To see how long he was willing to stick it out. And given he had been here for a few hours, he felt he had proven himself. "I wouldn't recommend this one, it's cut."
And being cut was boring. Half the effects, none of the real buzz and an unpleasant aftertaste. He'd tried, he wasn't a fan. He had made better meth in his sleep.
"This stuff probably wouldn't work on you either. Not in a fun way." It would just treat his undiagnosed ADHD and make him sleepy. Probably not the evening Ed had in mind when he went off on the prowl.
"Ah, the ADHD again." Jonathan always brought that up, which was quite rude. Not as if Edward constantly commented on the progress on his stutter. Clearly Jonathan didn't care about manners, big surprise there. "You just can't stop diagnosing me, can you? I'll lay down on a couch for you some time, doc. Promise."
No promise he'd do anything but bullshit once he was lying there, but still. Edward looked around, mostly taking in just how lifeless this place seemed. "Do you ever get to sell anywhere people dance?" He rather felt like dancing. Loud music. Something to focus on.
"A few, yeah. They probably just opened. Not worth dealing at until midnight." Jonathan figured Edward had asked for a non-work reason but even so, Jon debated how worthwhile it was for him to move now. He went back and forth before shrugging and gesturing ahead of the alleyway. "This way."
His stutter may have improved but he still kept his responses curt and short. It was a habit he had developed - the less words, the better the sentence. And besides, if Edward was here and asking him, then he definitely wanted attention. He'd follow.
Naturally, Edward did follow. What it boiled down to, in simple terms, was that he liked spending time with Jonathan. No ulterior motive, he simply enjoyed his company. A deeper analysis might perhaps unearth some things he preferred not to deal with too much, but on the surface it was simply a boy from school that was entertaining to be around.
"This begs the question, Jonathan. Do you dance?" He watched him from the side as he asked, walking next to him. It was always interesting to see what he could gauge from Jonathan's expression when the boy was unwilling to divulge too much. "Oh damn! You like dancing, don't you?"
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icebergloungers2024-05-02 05:52 pm
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Of course, before when they had only just learned that there was a new boy joining, there had been some hopeful whispering among the girls, wondering whether he'd be hot. A few of the boys may have idly wondered whether they were about to get anyone new for their various team sports.
It broke up the monotony of the day a little, but they had clearly decided that the boy himself wasn't worth much excitement. Built like a stick figure, glasses, the worst haircut known to men and a clothing style that lacked any pizzazz. It was Gotham, even the preps tended to have some of their own flair added.
"Introduce yourself please, Jonathan. Just a few words about where you're from."
Edward had been writing a note to pass over to someone, but he leaned back now. Looking the newcomer over he felt the teacher had given him a challenge - it was how he approached life to not ever get bored with how dull it actually was - and he was trying to work out what information he could before anything was said. Jonathan Crane. He liked the name, there was some poetry there.
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Alas.
"Anything else, Jonathan. Where are you from? Any hobbies?" The teacher prompted and Jonathan balled his hands into a fist. He made eye contact with the teacher, irritated and somewhat defeated.
"I'm f-f-f--rom" He got stuck on the first part. Great. Fuck. He went red and hissed out the last part. "Georgia." Was that enough to let him sit down? There, he was a fool, it had been done.
"Welcome to G-G-G-Gotham, Jonny boy." Jack called out from the back, earning some laughs from his fellow classmate.
"Hey, settle down." Harvey prompted, as class president. He took his role very seriously. "He's not done."
Jonathan looked at the guy in bafflement. He wasn't?! He was pretty sure he was.
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Ah, that kind of mockery really was the base form of humour, no wonder Jack took to it immediately. And it looked as if the white knight had found himself yet another windmill to defeat.
Edward decided to cut it short before Harvey had to go full class president. "He's Jon, he's from Georgia - clearly rural - he hasn't been here long and he's not a fan of the rain." That much was pretty obvious. Some people were giving him looks, varying from amused to annoyed. "He likes reading, he's a smoker. He's got an irregular sleep pattern and he really wants to shut up and sit down. There's some free spots, Jonny. Pick one."
"...you might as well sit down, Jonathan. Edward, no one asked you to speak." The teacher sighed, turning to her desk.
"They so rarely do, which is a shame. If someone did, the class might actually learn something..." He sighed, theatrically, then stuck his tongue out maturely at the boy that had tossed a pen at his head and missed. Same old.
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He idly cast a glance towards Edward. It was... impressive, if not a little weird, that he knew enough to introduce him. Though nothing was excessively hard to read. He supposed his sleeping habits and dislike of the rain were hardly difficult to pull out. The reading was interesting though - how did he get that one?
The lesson began and the class was pretty rowdy, all things considered. There was constant noise, everyone was yelling and sharing in jokes. It was quite the tedious class. Jonathan wondering if it was at all possible to get his GED online.
It would save from the noise, the mockery and being deduced by a theatre kid.
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That was all that was written on the rolled up piece of paper that Edward flicked onto Jonathan's desk. He had no way of knowing that that was precisely what was going through the boy's head, but given it was his own thought more often or not, it was not actually an impressive guess.
He felt he had to do it, honestly. He had kept his deductions to a minimum because he had been told before that it was invasive otherwise - a hard-learned lesson in many a case - and now he still had the urge to prove that he was better than that bare bone deduction. Jonathan was new here, he didn't want him to miss out on the depth of his intelligence.
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His only possessions were books, stacked around the house in various piles, but otherwise that was mostly it. He had one armchair that looked like it had seen better days and a questionable couch. All of it came with the apartment, of course. Waste not, want not.
Jonathan sat in the armchair, reading his book and frowning. There was this irritating noise in the background that didn't seem to want to go away and he tried to tune it out but it kept getting more persistent. He looked up and huffed. Oh. The doorbell. That was the sound.
Coming to the door, he opened it with the chain on and looked through the small gap at Holden. Fuck. He slammed the door in his face, undid the chair and reopened it. Leaving it open, Jonathan returned to his armchair and his book.
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Now he had to think about how to approach this. No room for loopholes, that was the rule when dealing with Jonathan. "Tell me about school." Not a question, just a straight-up demand. "I need to know for the report."
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That was his end of the day surprise, when some assholes tossed him and his bag into the garbage and high fived each other. Cliché. "Done?"
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There. That was his basic human interaction of the day done. He was sure Holden would be very proud. Edward was smart, loud and admittedly, very handsome.
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Which made it all the more intriguing to see Jonathan Crane smoking not far from said windows. Go figure.
Edward grinned, hands in his pockets as he approached the other boy. "Are you familiar with the works of Oscar Wild, Jonathan? I've been thinking about that quote. You know. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness."
He shrugged, stopping a step or two away from Jonathan and looking him over. "I can't say I disagree with it. Although you, my friend, are not mediocre. So, from you? Perhaps your watchful eye is the sincerest form of flattery you have to offer."
With a nod of his head, he appeared grateful enough. "It is. Flattering, that is."
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He was handsome, charismatic and hell, he probably would love to be worshipped in whatever manner he could get.
It was just hard, when being confronted, to know where to put his energies. He didn't want to overly flatter Edward, it seemed dangerous for his ego, but he didn't want to deny it. Seemed like a pointless act that they both knew was a lie.
Exhaling smoke, he looked at Edward and then back to the window. "I like to watch." Jonathan forced out as he stared at the play, not as enthralled now Edward was gone. "It's so effortless for s-s-some."
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He watched Jonathan rather than bothering with the windows. Seemed only fair. "Speaking of Oscar Wilde, do you know about his poem 'The Sphinx'? A personal favourite."
Stepping closer, he ended up leaning against the wall by the window, which also put him within touching distance of Jonathan. He looked at him as he quoted from the poem. "I weary of your sullen ways. I weary of your steadfast gaze, your somnolent magnificence. Your horrible and heavy breath makes the light flicker in the lamp, and on my brow I feel the damp and dreadful dews of night and death, your eyes are like fantastic moons that shiver in some stagnant lake, your tongue is like a scarlet snake that dances to fantastic tunes."
He felt it was quite fitting, in a way, which made him recite it with all the more vigour.
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He gestured vaguely at himself and then at Edward. "Effortless." He could speak clearly, without idiocy and without fumble. He could sound like that and command attention, to be worthy of praise and witness. And all Jonathan had was an embarrassing shambles.
Edward was so frustratingly effortless. He wanted to love him and hurt him at the same time. He inhaled sharply and flicked his cigarette aside. "For you, it's art. For me, it's exerc-cises."
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He wiggled his tongue playfully, then pulled it back and tried to imagine what it must be like for Jonathan. It was a difficult mental exercise, at it turned out. Edward was used to feeling weak, but he always knew how to talk. Often to his detriment, the way he could not help himself but kept antagonising his father. "I understand that it's an effort for you. If it's any consolation, I believe it is an effort well worth it. I like hearing what you have to say. You are much more worth talking to than the bulk of the population at this school."
He included the teaching staff in that.
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"He thrusts his f-fists against the p--p-po-post and s-s-s--" Jonathan huffed in annoyance, not caring that he was walking along and talking to himself. No one in the Narrows truly cared. Half the freaks here talked to themselves.
"He th-thrusts his fists against the--" Coming to pause, Jonathan noticed that glaringly obvious green colouring and frowned. That guy had a jacket like Ed... oh. That guy was Edward. He tried not to stare but he couldn't help it. "Against the post."
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Perhaps he could return home later. Right now it was too early to risk it. His body hurt, but he knew his face was mostly fine. Bit of a bruise on one side that was easily covered up with his hair, a split lip. He'd run in time, which he decided to few as tactical rather than cowardly.
He felt a bit at a loss, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, walking down a street and trying not to draw attention. Then he heard a familiar voice and he had to smile, despite the rather miserable circumstances. He turned to face Jonathan, continuing the phrase. "And still insists..."
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It was strange to once again envy Edward, even as he stood in the drizzling rain with a bruise face. It was quite the habit.
Jonathan put his hands into his pockets and then pulled out ten dollars, holding it up for Edward to see. "Hungry?"
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If not worrying. He shrugged, deciding that he didn't have much to lose and the drizzling was really dampening his mood. He wanted to get inside somewhere. "What are you feeling, Jonny? If you pay, I'm all yours."
Wording. Purposeful.
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"He th-thrusts his fists against the p-p-- shit." Jonathan huffed in annoyance, still mumbling to himself. He was going to fucking master this shit, even if it killed him. Then Falcone's goons would at least have one last thing to laugh at. He wasn't allowed a better dealing area until he didn't sound like fucking Porky Pig. "He th-thrusts his f-f-f-"
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He spotted Jonathan right away and made his way over there, to lean against the wall near him and pat himself down. "Damn. I'm short on cash. Here you had me tempted to start my drug experimentation early."
It had been a long night already. Part of his thoughts were on his sister and he didn't like that, he was trying to distract himself from that. Perhaps drugs really wouldn't be the worst way to do that.
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And being cut was boring. Half the effects, none of the real buzz and an unpleasant aftertaste. He'd tried, he wasn't a fan. He had made better meth in his sleep.
"This stuff probably wouldn't work on you either. Not in a fun way." It would just treat his undiagnosed ADHD and make him sleepy. Probably not the evening Ed had in mind when he went off on the prowl.
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No promise he'd do anything but bullshit once he was lying there, but still. Edward looked around, mostly taking in just how lifeless this place seemed. "Do you ever get to sell anywhere people dance?" He rather felt like dancing. Loud music. Something to focus on.
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His stutter may have improved but he still kept his responses curt and short. It was a habit he had developed - the less words, the better the sentence. And besides, if Edward was here and asking him, then he definitely wanted attention. He'd follow.
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"This begs the question, Jonathan. Do you dance?" He watched him from the side as he asked, walking next to him. It was always interesting to see what he could gauge from Jonathan's expression when the boy was unwilling to divulge too much. "Oh damn! You like dancing, don't you?"
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