(Untitled)

[survivorking]

Who: Jak, Daxter and DADDY
What: Jak has issues that need to be resolved. While that day might never come, this marks another valiant attempt...
When: Today...ish?
Where: Jak's Room
Rating: God only knows....(PG-13 ish

Comments

[shadesofeco]

It's almost a minute before Jak opens the door, glaring at his father for a second before his stance relaxes minutely.

"Damas."

Jak looks awful, and feels worse. There are dark shadows beneath his eyes belaying his lack of sleep, and his ears droop slightly. And yet there's something tense and angry right beneath the surface. He's clearly not well, but in true Jak form, he's fairly disinterested in talking about why.

Oh, right. Belatedly, he steps back to let the older man inside.

[does_everything]

Daxter, meanwhile, is asleep on Jak's bed, curled up on the blankets. He'd been healed over a day ago thanks to Jak's Light powers, but blood loss had kept him in bed and either asleep or dozing most of the days. He ate and sometimes woke up enough to circle around the room to keep his legs and arms from cramping up, but he had the energy for little else.

When Damas entered and Jak spoke it barely even rouses him, and he huffs beneath his breath before curling a bit tighter and tucking his nose beneath an arm.

[survivorking]

The king's eyes narrow at the appearance of his son. Concern immediately flares up, but he does his best to mask it, it would serve no useful purpose to have Jak see it. At best he would say nothing, at worst the young man would probably shut him out completely.

He crosses into the room, and eyes Daxter on the bed. Considering the ottsel's nature, it's... more than odd to see him asleep. Damas had once wondered if he ever stopped talking enough to sleep...

"I have not seen you in some time, Jak. I was concerned."

[shadesofeco]

There's still blood matted into Daxter's fur, and Jak feels a brief internal flare rage every time he sees it. He'd cleaned up the worst of it while Daxter was sleeping, but short of picking him up and dunking him in the bathtub, he couldn't get rid of all of it. He's marginally -- okay, very -- concerned at how long it's taking the ottsel to recover, but not everyone has Jak's internal stores of Light Eco to help them along, and Daxter's never been this badly hurt before. Maybe it's an ottsel thing.

Or that's what Jak keeps telling himself.

"I've been busy."

[survivorking]

Approaching the far wall of Jak's room, Damas is able to see the blood on his son's best friend's fur, and most of the pieces fall into place. It's obvious something's happened to Daxter, but the question was of Jak's involvement. The hero never responded well to prodding, but it was worth a try.

"What happened?" There are days on the MS Elegante where Damas regrets his somewhat laissez-faire approach to parenting. Not that Jak is still at the age where he needs a parent looming over his shoulder; he missed those days by a long shot.

[shadesofeco]

Crossing his arms defensively, Jak leans back against his dresser. One of the edges is cracked, which matches with the gauze roughly wound around his knuckles. In fact, a lot of the furniture looks as if it's been used in lieu of a punching bag.

Following Damas' gaze, he grunts and looks away.

"Someone attacked him. He's fine, he just lost a lot of blood."

[survivorking]

"I take it that means you are not as well as I would have hoped." Damas adopts one of his rigid, statuesque stances, his hands carefully folded behind his back. It's a carefully chosen pose, intended to be a somewhat subtle display of power. At least Jak is actually answering.

[shadesofeco]

It works. For all his bravado, Jak is tired, and it's pretty easy to fall back into old patterns without thinking. Damas is an imposing man, and there's an authority divide that makes Jak feel like he shouldn't answer back like he would with anyone else.

"I'm fine," he mumbles.

[survivorking]

"I doubt that." He wants to see your eyes for once, Jak. There's a nostalgic part of him that wants to see those cocky eyes of the warrior he rescued from the wastes. Or even those large, innocent eyes that Mar had so long ago.

[shadesofeco]

"Did you need something?"

Jak finally does look up, but there's not much in his eyes. Anger, exhaustion, hurt. It's not as well-guarded as usual, and he shifts uncomfortably.

[survivorking]

"A better question would be, do you?" Damas stares at him pointedly. "Is there anything I can do for you, Jak?"

He rattles his brain for anything that might be of help. There's no way on this earth or any other that Jak would want to actually talk about his problems. "A way to vent, perhaps?" He's thinking of sparring.

[shadesofeco]

Okay, that does get his attention, and Jak straightens up a little, his shoulders rolling back.

"Like what?"

[survivorking]

"A spar, perhaps." A simple enough notion. And Damas can even see the appeal, just as he did some time ago. The heavy bruising was worth giving Jak a way to burn off steam sans punishment. "If you are up for such a challenge." One eyebrow raises in slight amusement, though now is not exactly the time for such a notion.

[shadesofeco]

A muscle just beneath Jak's eye twitches.

He does want to spar, the idea of beating the shit out of something other than furniture does appeal, and while Erol, Jinx or Anna would be his first choices right now, he knows Damas can take what he has to dish out.

Of course, Jak is exhausted; he's barely slept in days, his mind too distracted by chasing its own tail for him to keep any kind of focus, he hasn't eaten enough and he's been drinking too much. How much of a challenge he can actually provide is negligible.

Rubbing his face, he glances aside at Daxter. He's hesitant to leave his best friend behind ...

"Fine. But we'll do it here."

He pushes away from the dresser.

[survivorking]

Damas gives a snort of amusement. In these tight quarters? It's certainly reckless, but it would make it interesting. A lack of high ground would also keep the fighting somewhat more balanced than their last fight in the staircase.

The old elf squares himself, but doesn't move his hands. "Whenever you're ready, Jak."

[shadesofeco]

Very close quarters, barely enough room for two grown men to fight. Well, one and a half.

Jak doesn't waste any time, he darts forward and throws a punch to the side of Damas' head, but it's slow and sloppy.