He doesn't know why she bothers. Why she continues to bother. Doesn't she know that this is a dead-end? There's no reason to waste the energy here. He'll just let it fall apart again. He always does. Every time it's ever gotten better, it gets so much worse again, like divine retribution for him ever thinking it might stay better.
Maybe he's not just thinking of the mess anymore. Maybe this reminds him a little too much of two old friends pushing their way into his room at the Circus with a knock-off Polaroid, decorating a colorful wall with memories...
Shaking his head to forcefully wrench himself out of that, he lets out a dry laugh, the smile that makes it back to his face isn't a notable one. "If you wanna waste your brand-new, non-adventure-having free time cleaning, you're nuts, but I won't stop you. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
"I don't mind. Seriously." Pomni offers a fond look, a light smile. "But that's a later problem. Let's open my stupid head, then go get drunk and watch other people sing bad, and then later this week we'll see how much of the work we can offload on the literal, honest-to-god Labubus running around helping people do spring cleaning."
"Seriously! Like— the freaky little dolls? What is wrong with this place?"
And yet, even small, tentative, that grin reappears on his face. And he huffs a laugh, shaking his head and passing her one of the bottles. (It's the nicer one of the bunch, the golden hue speaking to it probably being mead. He doesn't address that fact.)
"You're so weird. I don't get you." But, regardless, he tries to let that roll off his back, nodding in a little gesture to her. Pin-pointed pupils widen after a couple of blinks and a swig from the bottle of wine to get him off-edge. "We stalled long enough though. Let's see that hole."
He doesn't have to comment. Pomni notices. She takes a moment to admire the color, a subtle gesture of gratitude. She goes to great pains not to crowd him emotionally. Even though she wishes she could throw herself into his arms and tell him just how much he means to her.
Maybe someday.
At the mention of the hole, she sighs. "Okayyyy fine." Pomni pops her hat off, and while locks of blunt-cut brown hair tumble out to frame her face, at the crown of her skull, there is an opening about the size of a small dinner plate. Inside, her head is concave and empty, aside from purple lines that look like scaffolding, outlining the interior of her polygons.
The quiet admiration is watched with what Jax certainly tries to have be discreet attention, but that doesn't mean his shoulders don't visibly ease a few centimeters of tension. It was the right call, and the subject moves along easily. All is right with the world again. For the moment. But he'll take it!
For now, he strolls over the short distance, and—
"Holy !"
The censor is tailed closely by a laugh, and unable to help himself, he moves the hand that doesn't still hold the wine-bottle, stooping down to peer very closely inside the bizarrely empty space. He's practically shoving his head in there. "I can't believe Caine left this open! I've seen some weird clipping crap before, but nothing this big! Man, he was really losing his edge, huh? That's hilarious. Hang on, what's it feel like when I put my hand in there?"
"Not really anything aside from, like... air movement, unless you touch the sides. Then it just feels like your hand," Pomni observes, making a face of mild discomfort. "That's so weird..."
Jax finally pulls himself back upright, ears standing upright again with a comical sproing! And, unable to help himself, he glances around the room, takes a scarf, and drops it in there. Who knows when they'll need it?
"Yeah, alright, we're definitely keeping stuff in here. Do you think putting a knife in here would put your eye out? Answer quickly."
Another item added! Should he put together an inventory list? No, that'd be lame. They'll figure it out later. (He also puts a jar of apple butter he'd left on the counter in there.)
He fails to elaborate what or where purse-jail is for bad and naughty digital satchels. But he does try to pry those sharp teeth off his arm. (God, does she have a jaw-lock like a fucking shark?)
Arms out. Hands open. She's unceremoniously dropped, but he at least gives her the decency to have her upright when he does. As soon as she's loose, he gives his now-wiggly arm a jokingly-horrified glance. (It's maybe a little genuine.)
"Oof!" And with that, she hits the floor, faceplanting anyway. But she's quick to pick herself back up.
"That's what happens!" Pomni huffs, straightening out her clothes and shaking off the adrenaline. "Okay, come here, lemme pull your arm straight so we can go to the bar."
"Not my fault you're the ideal size for convenient stuff-carrying," Jax raises his non-jagged arm defensively, but he doesn't put up any further argument before he offers his arm back over. "If you bite it again I'll be ed, by the way. And I'll definitely throw you."
Throw her where exactly? He has no idea. But he'll figure it out. Getting chucked is enrichment for digital cartoon characters, anyways.
"Yeah, yeah," Pomni gripes, grabbing his hand with both of hers and giving a solid yank. It straightens right back out, like magic. "There. All better. What have we learned today?"
"Pfff." Pomni rolls her eyes, but doesn't move away. "Whatever. Since you're back there, stick this in my head. We'll smuggle it into the bar and save some money." She passes the bottle of mead up to him.
Jax snorts a laugh, but takes the bottle as soon as it's passed over. "That's such an accountant thing to do. Always thinkin' on the numbers, huh?"
No part of that is a complaint, though, and the half-finished bottle of wine goes in after it. The downside is he has to stick his arm all the way in there to futz around with the scarf, wedging it between the bottles so they won't clack together. Innovation at its finest.
"Think that should do it! Put your hole away, and let's get outta here."
"Can you please not say it like that?" Replacing her hat once more, Pomni makes for the door, eyeing the red coat next to Jax's. "Whose coat is this one? You're not really a red guy."
"Yeah, no, I'm totally obligated to say it like that. Them's the breaks."
The coat gets a glance, though, and he sighs, moving to shake it out and hold it up.
"It's my work jacket. Dunno why they're making us dress like bellboys for our shift, but everybody's got one, so there wasn't any getting outta it for me. Could be worse, though, I guess."
It gets a smile from Pomni--- the gold detailing is really fun, as are the little shoulder pads. "I bet you can rock it, though. What kind of work is it?" She starts for the door as she keeps chatting---- walk and talk.
"Sort of a community-service type thing. People have problems, we go solve them," Jax replies, ever nonchalant, as he follows her out the door and closes it behind him. It's a relief not to be in there anymore, to say the least. That's what he gets for getting the bright idea that inviting someone over was a good idea.
"Mostly, I'm just there for moral support," he adds with a grin.
Yeah, he spends most of his time letting other people pick up the slack.
A community service thing? Neither the words "community" nor "service" typically are said with Jax's name in the same sentence, so the fact that he's doing so is... a lot. It's important. Pomni is extremely proud of him--- which she doesn't say, but her face betrays her as she nudges him. "Look at you, moving up in the world."
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no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 01:18 am (UTC)He doesn't know why she bothers. Why she continues to bother. Doesn't she know that this is a dead-end? There's no reason to waste the energy here. He'll just let it fall apart again. He always does. Every time it's ever gotten better, it gets so much worse again, like divine retribution for him ever thinking it might stay better.
Maybe he's not just thinking of the mess anymore. Maybe this reminds him a little too much of two old friends pushing their way into his room at the Circus with a knock-off Polaroid, decorating a colorful wall with memories...
Shaking his head to forcefully wrench himself out of that, he lets out a dry laugh, the smile that makes it back to his face isn't a notable one. "If you wanna waste your brand-new, non-adventure-having free time cleaning, you're nuts, but I won't stop you. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 02:37 am (UTC)And yet, even small, tentative, that grin reappears on his face. And he huffs a laugh, shaking his head and passing her one of the bottles. (It's the nicer one of the bunch, the golden hue speaking to it probably being mead. He doesn't address that fact.)
"You're so weird. I don't get you." But, regardless, he tries to let that roll off his back, nodding in a little gesture to her. Pin-pointed pupils widen after a couple of blinks and a swig from the bottle of wine to get him off-edge. "We stalled long enough though. Let's see that hole."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 02:54 am (UTC)Maybe someday.
At the mention of the hole, she sighs. "Okayyyy fine." Pomni pops her hat off, and while locks of blunt-cut brown hair tumble out to frame her face, at the crown of her skull, there is an opening about the size of a small dinner plate. Inside, her head is concave and empty, aside from purple lines that look like scaffolding, outlining the interior of her polygons.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:12 am (UTC)For now, he strolls over the short distance, and—
"Holy
The censor is tailed closely by a laugh, and unable to help himself, he moves the hand that doesn't still hold the wine-bottle, stooping down to peer very closely inside the bizarrely empty space. He's practically shoving his head in there. "I can't believe Caine left this open! I've seen some weird clipping crap before, but nothing this big! Man, he was really losing his edge, huh? That's hilarious. Hang on, what's it feel like when I put my hand in there?"
Which he does, without reservation. Sorry, Pomni.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:22 am (UTC)Yeah, no, he's leaning all the way in there, calling into the empty space.
"HEEEEE-LLO?"
He's testing if there's an echo. Utterly shameless.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:27 am (UTC)"How does your head fit in there? I didn't think it was that big. Get out!"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:44 am (UTC)Jax finally pulls himself back upright, ears standing upright again with a comical sproing! And, unable to help himself, he glances around the room, takes a scarf, and drops it in there. Who knows when they'll need it?
"Yeah, alright, we're definitely keeping stuff in here. Do you think putting a knife in here would put your eye out? Answer quickly."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:12 am (UTC)Another item added! Should he put together an inventory list? No, that'd be lame. They'll figure it out later. (He also puts a jar of apple butter he'd left on the counter in there.)
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:22 am (UTC)And, with little fanfare, he picks her up and tucks her under his arm, holding her like she weighs nothing against his hip.
"You're more like a satchel, honestly. It's more time-period appropriate. Get with the times, Pom-Pom."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:24 am (UTC)rolled a 13 on prying her off for the silliest dice combat ever
Date: 2026-03-26 04:27 am (UTC)He fails to elaborate what or where purse-jail is for bad and naughty digital satchels. But he does try to pry those sharp teeth off his arm. (God, does she have a jaw-lock like a fucking shark?)
Rolled a 15 babeyyy
Date: 2026-03-26 04:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:40 am (UTC)Arms out. Hands open. She's unceremoniously dropped, but he at least gives her the decency to have her upright when he does. As soon as she's loose, he gives his now-wiggly arm a jokingly-horrified glance. (It's maybe a little genuine.)
"You
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:43 am (UTC)"That's what happens!" Pomni huffs, straightening out her clothes and shaking off the adrenaline. "Okay, come here, lemme pull your arm straight so we can go to the bar."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:47 am (UTC)Throw her where exactly? He has no idea. But he'll figure it out. Getting chucked is enrichment for digital cartoon characters, anyways.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:51 am (UTC)"Hold your head further away from my arm next time?"
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:08 pm (UTC)No part of that is a complaint, though, and the half-finished bottle of wine goes in after it. The downside is he has to stick his arm all the way in there to futz around with the scarf, wedging it between the bottles so they won't clack together. Innovation at its finest.
"Think that should do it! Put your hole away, and let's get outta here."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:29 pm (UTC)The coat gets a glance, though, and he sighs, moving to shake it out and hold it up.
"It's my work jacket. Dunno why they're making us dress like bellboys for our shift, but everybody's got one, so there wasn't any getting outta it for me. Could be worse, though, I guess."
no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2026-03-26 04:12 pm (UTC)"Mostly, I'm just there for moral support," he adds with a grin.
Yeah, he spends most of his time letting other people pick up the slack.
no subject
Date: 2026-03-27 02:40 am (UTC)