Title: Fire Sign
Summary: Jack comes back from Pahrump – spoilers for episode 1x08.
Genre: romance, angsty
Characters or Pairing: Jack Rudolph/Marylyn Rudolph
Prompts: It was supposed to be that game of listening to random songs and wrinting as they played. I actually did it about 2 years ago, played with it for a couple of weeks and forgot it somewhere. Then I stumbled on it the other day and most of those 10 drabble-ish I didn't like, but this one I did, so here it is. It was kinda based on the song Fire Sign, by David Berkley.
Disclaimer: don't own, just borrow.
Even just a sound and all your cards are down
Even just a sound
Fire Sign, by David Berkley
Jack poured himself a sip of scotch and stared out his window for a moment, appreciating the LA lights - actually, pretending to appreciate them - going through that day all over again inside his head. Flashes of handcuffed Tom, copyright lawyers and Zhang Tao's angry/preaching/confused face playing over and over in front of his eyes.
Marylyn's reflection appeared on his window. When she talked, he turned, trying not to let her ice tone get to him. "Drinking that late at night?"
"Don't start with me" he warns her - an empty threat, he won't be doing much if she decides to keep talking (he'd never hit her, he'd never leave her, he'd would hardly even yell back at her). "I had a rough day."
"What happenned?" She asked, trying to sound interested.
"I had to fly to Pahrump, Nevada."
"What on earth were you doing in Nevada?"
Jack took one more sip before answering sarcastically: "Visiting the legal brothels."
"I'm not laughing, Jack." She argued back, in a calm but rather hurt voice, watching him find a seat on his armchair.
Jack tried to calm himself before keeping that conversation - he was already walking on a mined camp. Having too much to drink at the last Wrap Party had led them into a big argument, and even a week after she still looked just as mad as the morning after. "Tom got arrested and was taken to Nevada because of a speeding ticket."
"Tom from News Division?"
The question sounded so dumb to his ears Jack forced out an annoyed sighed and corrected. "Tom Jeter."
"Studio 60 Tom Jeter?" she asked, for no particular reason. After the cold silences they had been diving into lately, she had learn to stretch the conversation the best she could. But he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep answering her politely at that point, so he simply nodded. "Why?"
"Marylyn, it's a long story." he said, tired. "Can I please tell you the whole thing in the morning?"
"I'm predicting you'll wake up hung overed in the morning, but sure..."
"I'm serious, do not start with me-"
"Fine, enjoy your drink." And she walked away.
Jack rolled up his eyes, allowing himself to feel angry at her, and did as she said, taking a long sip of scotch and letting it burn down his throat with a bitter taste.