Note: Hey guys, sorry about the delay in updating, but I've had the worst writer's block, and I'm also writing a novel. That and I've been really busy. Those three things combined equals no update, so I'm sorry if this chapter sucks at all, I'm still tapped for ideas and the movie I'm watching is really interesting. I don't own Jak and Daxter, yakidy smackidy...Just using them for fun, blah di blah di blah, yeah yeah yeah. And note that they're writing and reading Precursor in this fic, just to make a few things clear.
On with the show!
CHAPTER FIVE
Torn was rapidly growing insane. Jak was making odd sounds and just chattering away as if he just recently discovered he could talk (Imagine that. Lol). "...and another thing about the word 'guard' is it's got a 'u' in it. What do you need a 'u' for? It's not like it's useful, it just fills up the page when you write it, makes it look stupid." Torn clawed at his ears with his fingers. Apparently, without a mission to go focus on, Jak's brain was pretty scattered. Jak continued his nonsensical chatter as Torn suddenly stood up. He walked over to Jak and grabbed his chin. "Shut up. Now." He said, his eyes boring straight into Jak's. Jak closed his mouth. "Thank you. Do me a favor, and go away. Take a nap, make a snack, take a shower, I don't care. But leave me be for a little while."
"But Torn..."
"Go!" Torn said forcefully, letting go of Jak's face and walking off. Jak got the idea he wasn't wanted, and stalked off to go take a shower. Torn sighed in bliss. He thanked the Precursors for some alone time and began sketching a map of Haven City.
About an hour later, Torn realized his "map" had morphed into a sketch of Jak with his Morph-Gun out, with a murderous look on his face. Now where had Torn seen a face like that before...? "Whoa jeez." He crumpled up the sketch. realizing what he'd drawn, and began fresh. Jak walked back in, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Torn didn't look up. "Whoa, jeez, what?"
"Nothing." Torn replied, a little too quickly. He went back to work revising his maps. "OK, crazy. You need anything, I'll be getting dressed in the bathroom."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Torn said. He continued sketching.
It was another hour before Torn was visibly shaking, attempting to figure out just why he kept accidentally drawing, writing, or in some other way referencing Jak on every map he tried to draw. There was a steadily growing pile of crumpled-up paper in and by the trash bin. Torn violently chucked yet another paper into the pile, just as Jak was walking in. He'd gotten dressed, brushed his teeth, and did pretty much everything else he could think of without bothering Torn, as the tattooed man looked about ready to kill whatever came into the room. "Chill out, there, Torn. What's got your undies in a knot?" He asked jokingly. "You do!" Torn answered cryptically. "Me? What did I do?" Torn jabbed his finger at the pile of papers. "Every single goddamn time I try to draw a goddamn map of the goddamn city!" Jak took a couple of the papers and un-crumpled them. "Hey, you're not a bad artist, you could market these." Jak said, visibly impressed. "And you don't care that they're all you?"
"Hell, Torn, I'm flattered. These are great!" Jak laughed. "Is this what you've been doing for the past two hours?" Torn nodded slightly. "I'm impressed, Torn. You're good."
"Thanks."
"Keep drawing. I could sell them in the Bazaar and we could get some extra income for the Underground."
"You know, Jak, that's not a bad idea."
"Let's go out tomorrow, just you and me. You bring a sketch pad and we'll draw whatever we see. Then we'll sell them for some big bucks." Jak said, smiling. Torn nodded, a genuine smile on his face for the first time in a very, very long tome.
CHAPTER SIX COMING SOON
READ AND REVIEW. NO FLAMES, I KNOW MY FORMATTING SUCKS.