Jacob sighed, absently flipping a coin and trailing its path with a drunken frown. "Heads." He nodded to the fellow passed out on the bar beside him, frown deepening as it landed on tails. A raspy snort issued from the red-faced man and Jacob sighed once more, grabbing up his coin and nodding to the barkeep.
Everything from the chipped paint to the cracked wooden countertop screamed to the world that the place had seen better days and as Jacob clumsily climbed to his feet he found himself empathizing in some small way with the dilapidated building.
"Keep the change." He decided in a spur-of-the-moment choice, grabbing up his bottle of beer and staggering away. 'I could do with making a few less of those.' The thought came unbidden and silently he cringed, stumbling out of the pub with uncertain steps.
"I love you, damn it!" He yelled, eyes bleary and muscles weary from a lack of sleep and constantly being on the move.
Evie shook her head, staring across at him in disbelief. "I can't even look at you right now." The words weren't spoken with anger or even fear, just pure revulsion.
He paused, leaning against the wall of the alley and clenching his fists tightly. A guttural retch wracked his broad frame and the young man spat on the stained cobblestone road, looking around at the village of Crawley with a disgruntled scowl. "I hate this place." He decided, too many bad memories rising to the fore. "Fucking Crawley, fucking George, fucking..."
"What were you thinking?" She breathed, kohl-rimmed eyes glimmering a sapphire hue with frosty distaste. "Were you even thinking?"
Thoughts of unkempt hair, dark and trailing over pale shoulders towards a pale red gown flitted through his mind and sent a sharp pang through him, echoing in his chest and reverberating back into his skull. "Damn it." He choked, slamming his fist into the brickwork.
Her gaze was empty now, freckled cheeks tinged pink with silent anger and he realized that this was how she dealt with problems, that right now he was just another target that she couldn't get rid of, that she wanted to strike him off the face of the earth, rid it of his stain. "I need you to leave, Jacob. Right now, before you embarrass yourself any further."
His path was quick and he didn't even pause to slam the door, stricken as he was.
"Fucking Evie." With a heavy thud he fell, dropping to his knees and settling against the roadside for the night. "Fucking Evie."
The people of Crawley weren't used to people passing through. The small village wasn't big enough to be considered a viable stop for cargo or factories and it wasn't close enough to London to be considered prime real estate; the railway being introduced twenty years ago had started to change that, however for now the humdrum of Crawley was limited to people stopping by for time away from work and the locals with their insular community, leaving the small village a sort of hub for the Assassins and little else.
It was because of this that Jacob had always felt excluded from the community; from his families separation from the village to the constant training and missions, he mostly found solace in the local taverns and fighting pits, something that didn't particularly help his case.
The brutish boy didn't mind too much though; give him a pair of brass knuckles, a target to fight and a few pints of beer for the night and he'd be content, none of that 'city planning' and 'historical preservation' that his father and Evie seemed to be all for.
Evie, with her sharp tongue and sharp mind, with her freckled cheeks that flushed just so when angry, with her plump pink lips that twisted into that crooked grin when she was successful, with the way her nose wrinkled and lilted when she found something she wasn't entirely sure about.
Yes, he decided quickly, he was quite content being separate from the village of Crawley and drowning his sorrows.
Lately, though, things had been rising inside him, things best left undisturbed and unheeded, but things he wasn't entirely sure he could leave unsaid.
The death of father had shaken them both, perhaps her more than he, however as the weeks had passed they'd both recovered, grieving in their own way; perhaps it was this realization, combined with the heady feeling that came from a full night of drinking and a mission completed, that gave him the foolhardy confidence to confess his feelings.
Yes, he decided, nodding to himself. I'll tell her tonight.
The clang of church bells shook him from his slumber and Jacob groaned, dropping whatever it was he was holding to the floor with the sound of glass shattering and rubbing at his face with rough cloth-hewn gloves. "Jesus," He murmured to himself, climbing to his feet and staggering to lean against the wall. "What hit me?"
Abruptly the memory of last night came to the fore and he shook, straightening and staring blankly down at the broken bottle by his feet. "Oh."
Sunday morning beckoned, crisp air and high sun drawing him from his shattered pride. 'George.' He suddenly remembered, eyes wide as the memory of the older man came to mind, sharply informing him that he was to be at the train station come noon. No doubt the man expected his sister to shepherd him from there to Croydon, but... 'Fat chance of that now.' He mused spitefully.
The concept of avoiding the assignment came to mind but Jacob wasn't stupid; reckless, yes, but not so blatantly as so disobey a direct order from their mentor.
'I suppose I don't have much choice.' The thought of arriving and having to face both his sister and the older man almost broke him then and there and Jacob numbly turned on his heel, meandering down the same alleyway he'd went down the night previous towards the station.
The side street gave way to the open air and he sighed as he noted the quiet; the streets were almost silent despite the early morning market and he took solace in the fact, hastily slicking his hair back beneath his cap and climbing the steps to the relatively new building with an unsteady gait.
Jacob walked into the station hesitantly, face uncharacteristically stoic as he approached the tracks. A familiar red-on-black coat faced the same direction and he swallowed down anxiety as he came up behind her. "Evie, up bright and early I see." He greeted, suddenly all-too-aware of his own crumpled and stained state.
Evie turned, something complicated and ugly crossing her face in the few seconds it took to register his presence. "...Jacob," She finally nodded tiredly. "Good to see you're on time." Those deep blue eyes of hers scanned over his bedraggled state. "Where did you sleep?"
Her voice was soft and despite her silent anger he could see a glint of worry that warmed him. "Oh, here and there." He jabbed, falling into a familiar routine far too easily. "So, any idea what George has in store for us?"
Glossy pink lips twisted into a sneer. "I've already told you twice! We are..." Abruptly she trailed off, shifting her gaze to the few people on the platform. With a vexed huff she grabbed his elbow, wrinkling her nose at the smell of cheap beer and tobacco. "We're to see George regarding a Piece of Eden the Templars have claimed; he tells me he's an assignment for you as well, regarding a factory owner-"
Recognition sparked and he grinned, nodding. "Right, some twat working for the Templars." He mused. Evie jerked away and he blinked, momentary relief washing away as he watched her face fall into the same disquieted stoicism that she had greeted him with.
"Good." She spoke, gaze flickering. "I think it best that we sit separately for this trip."
Jacob furrowed his brow, hurt flashing in a painful staccato that echoed in time with his pulse. "I'm sorry?" He voiced darkly, glowering. "Am I too disgusting for the brilliant Evie Frye to associate herself with now?"
"Do not," She hissed. "Put this on me, Jacob." She spat his name with such vitriol that he felt he could've burst into flames from the vehemence of her dislike alone. "I'm not the one swanning around drinking all day and turning up in a ditch somewhere because he couldn't control-"
"Control? Excuse me for telling you how I feel." He meant to match her anger, instead faltering and croaking his last word like the confessions of a dying man.
Evie's face fell and he stilled as he took in the faint redness, the intense scowl and the sheer hate in her eyes. "You-" Her shoulders hunched and quickly she shook her head, exhaling sharply. "Don't, Jacob. I know that you like to run around from mistake to mistake like it's some sort of joke, like you can't act serious for a single second, but I won't be complicit in this. Take your sick fantasies elsewhere."
With that the lithe Assassin spun on her heel, entering the train with a stiff grace.
Jacob stared after her, shaking slightly as he watched her take a seat before, reluctantly, he made his way to the next carriage.
-X- -X-
George was talking, nattering on about their targets and how they'd have to be careful and some such, but Jacob could scarcely bring himself to listen; even in the usual circumstances he'd be hard-pressed to listen to the fearful Assassin's words of warning, but now...?
His sister nodded along to the man's caution, all serious frowns and tight body language and all he could do was glare, looping an arm around the rungs of the train beside him and throwing himself up onto the roof. "Talking has never gotten anyone anywhere, George." He found himself snorting, spitting over the edge of shipping container and taking delight in the dual expressions of disgust the motion warranted. "And we've a train to catch! There's hardly time to have a group session, now is there?"
Beside George Evie's face twisted into a grimace and she pulled herself up alongside him, nodding apologetically down at the older man. "Sorry, George. But for once Jacob has a point."
'For once?' The recalcitrant Assassin waved his arms through the air, looking away with a pout. "All my ideas are good ideas." He murmured to himself, glancing back and scowling as she smirked.
The shrill tone of a whistle blew through the air and she grabbed his jacket, pushing him in the opposite direction authoritatively. "We've a train to catch!" She yelled, leaping onto the oncoming vehicle. "Bye George!"
"Jacob!" As the distance between them grew Jacob spied the man climbing onto their previous location. "Evie! May the Creed guide you, you vagrants!" "Poor man," Evie murmured, shaking her head. "More afraid than ever. The years have not been kind."
A scoff escaped him and he glanced over at her, fondness swelling beneath his irritation. "Evie Frye, where do you get it from?"
Her gaze sharpened as she watched him. "The same place as you, Jacob." She bit out, smirk just a little vindictive.
A stiff wind could have bowled him over there and as his shoulders tensed he found he'd never been more grateful for the sight of a factory coming into view. "Good luck." He snapped, flinging himself towards a nearby pole before he could say something he might regret.
He was sure that she said something back but he just didn't care in that moment, instead marching towards the factory with only violence on his mind.