Post by wordy on Dec 18, 2012 9:56:57 GMT 10
Title: to catch a thief
Rating: PG13
Prompt: #12 unexpected visitor
Summary: Extracurricular activities.
A/N: For Griff.
The ladder was exactly where he remembered it to be, up against the kitchen wall. When he got up it and onto the low roof, he chose a window and pried open the shutters carefully, painfully aware of the fact that it was not yet nightfall. If anyone came round the back of the Dove and saw him...
Jon slid through the window, then dropped down the last few feet. Straightening, he dusted off his breeches and glanced around. The room lay in darkness, the sound of muted gaiety coming from downstairs. He made out a bed, a table, a few vague objects that were swallowed by the shadows, and—he frowned, annoyed at being caught out. “George.”
“Jon. Or is it Johnny today?” he asked, getting up from his chair. The thin light coming through from the shutters fell across him as he walked forward, and Jon’s eyes darted over him, already searching for the knives that he knew must be there.
“You said you’d teach me,” said Jon, spreading his hands and giving ground before the other man. “So here I am.”
George stopped moving abruptly, then crossed is arms. Even that set Jon on edge; he had no idea what to expect.
“You thought I’d be downstairs, this early in the day,” guessed George. It had to be a guess, Jon thought. His ego could not take anything less. George looked at him, and when he did not speak, continued, “Then you’d wait until dark, when I came up to bed, possibly with a few ales in me.”
“It was a good plan.”
“It was an obvious plan. A man who’s livin’ on the wrong side of the law knows a thing or two about not gettin’ himself killed. You’d be dead before you could get your knife out.”
Jon scowled. “Then teach me.”
“I am teachin’ you.”
“That’s not what it seems like to me.”
“An’ that’s what’ll get you killed,” said George. “Thinkin’ of yourself all the time means you don’t have your full attention on the other guy. I knew you’d try gettin’ in here, like this, because I thought like you’d be thinkin’. You came here expectin’ all manner of things because you assumed.”
Jon clenched his jaw, angry because George was right.
“Alright, then.” A dagger was in his hand before Jon had even blinked. George smiled and motioned him forward.
Jon took out his own dagger, his hand already starting to sweat around it. They circled each other slowly. The beating of his heart seemed too loud. He kept his eyes on the other man’s dagger. He wouldn’t be pulled into making the first move.
George darted in quickly, dagger raised. Jon made to block it with his arm when something collided sharply with his face, a painful crunch making his head spin.
He fell to his knees, breathing heavily through his mouth. Wetness ran over his chin. When he licked his lips, he tasted blood. The pain in his head made him wince.
George stood over him, shaking out his hand. “I’d hoped you’d block that,” he said.
“You hit me.”
“Second rule of not gettin’ yourself killed. Never take your opponent’s word as truth. You assumed I’d be a gentleman an’ stick to knives, because you saw a knife in my hand.”
Jon winced again and raised his hands to his face. The brilliant blue of his Gift clouded the air, and he gasped as the cartilage of his nose shifted back into its proper place. He wiped his bloodied face on his sleeve and looked up at George. He was smiling.
An idea was beginning to form. Jon bit his lip, ignoring the taste of blood, and thought back to when he had left the palace. He glared at the smiling rogue accusingly. “You didn’t know I was coming. Not like you said.”
George’s smile widened. He twirled his dagger in one hand. “Oh, I knew you were comin’, alright. Stefan sent me a message when he saw you saddlin’ your horse.”
Jon cursed and George laughed, then leaned down to offer him a hand up. Once he was on his feet, Jon swayed a bit, but his face and nose almost felt normal again. “You cheated,” he told George.
“So I did. Like I said, second rule.”
Jon grinned despite himself. “Fine. Lesson learned.”
“I hope so,” said George. “I’d hate to have to hit you again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
This time it was George who grinned. “Good. Lesson learned.”
Rating: PG13
Prompt: #12 unexpected visitor
Summary: Extracurricular activities.
A/N: For Griff.
The ladder was exactly where he remembered it to be, up against the kitchen wall. When he got up it and onto the low roof, he chose a window and pried open the shutters carefully, painfully aware of the fact that it was not yet nightfall. If anyone came round the back of the Dove and saw him...
Jon slid through the window, then dropped down the last few feet. Straightening, he dusted off his breeches and glanced around. The room lay in darkness, the sound of muted gaiety coming from downstairs. He made out a bed, a table, a few vague objects that were swallowed by the shadows, and—he frowned, annoyed at being caught out. “George.”
“Jon. Or is it Johnny today?” he asked, getting up from his chair. The thin light coming through from the shutters fell across him as he walked forward, and Jon’s eyes darted over him, already searching for the knives that he knew must be there.
“You said you’d teach me,” said Jon, spreading his hands and giving ground before the other man. “So here I am.”
George stopped moving abruptly, then crossed is arms. Even that set Jon on edge; he had no idea what to expect.
“You thought I’d be downstairs, this early in the day,” guessed George. It had to be a guess, Jon thought. His ego could not take anything less. George looked at him, and when he did not speak, continued, “Then you’d wait until dark, when I came up to bed, possibly with a few ales in me.”
“It was a good plan.”
“It was an obvious plan. A man who’s livin’ on the wrong side of the law knows a thing or two about not gettin’ himself killed. You’d be dead before you could get your knife out.”
Jon scowled. “Then teach me.”
“I am teachin’ you.”
“That’s not what it seems like to me.”
“An’ that’s what’ll get you killed,” said George. “Thinkin’ of yourself all the time means you don’t have your full attention on the other guy. I knew you’d try gettin’ in here, like this, because I thought like you’d be thinkin’. You came here expectin’ all manner of things because you assumed.”
Jon clenched his jaw, angry because George was right.
“Alright, then.” A dagger was in his hand before Jon had even blinked. George smiled and motioned him forward.
Jon took out his own dagger, his hand already starting to sweat around it. They circled each other slowly. The beating of his heart seemed too loud. He kept his eyes on the other man’s dagger. He wouldn’t be pulled into making the first move.
George darted in quickly, dagger raised. Jon made to block it with his arm when something collided sharply with his face, a painful crunch making his head spin.
He fell to his knees, breathing heavily through his mouth. Wetness ran over his chin. When he licked his lips, he tasted blood. The pain in his head made him wince.
George stood over him, shaking out his hand. “I’d hoped you’d block that,” he said.
“You hit me.”
“Second rule of not gettin’ yourself killed. Never take your opponent’s word as truth. You assumed I’d be a gentleman an’ stick to knives, because you saw a knife in my hand.”
Jon winced again and raised his hands to his face. The brilliant blue of his Gift clouded the air, and he gasped as the cartilage of his nose shifted back into its proper place. He wiped his bloodied face on his sleeve and looked up at George. He was smiling.
An idea was beginning to form. Jon bit his lip, ignoring the taste of blood, and thought back to when he had left the palace. He glared at the smiling rogue accusingly. “You didn’t know I was coming. Not like you said.”
George’s smile widened. He twirled his dagger in one hand. “Oh, I knew you were comin’, alright. Stefan sent me a message when he saw you saddlin’ your horse.”
Jon cursed and George laughed, then leaned down to offer him a hand up. Once he was on his feet, Jon swayed a bit, but his face and nose almost felt normal again. “You cheated,” he told George.
“So I did. Like I said, second rule.”
Jon grinned despite himself. “Fine. Lesson learned.”
“I hope so,” said George. “I’d hate to have to hit you again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
This time it was George who grinned. “Good. Lesson learned.”