[OTA] You don't want to watch
There was no visible reaction to the letter a Two of Spades had delivered to him late last night. A brief flash of surprise, a tightening of his lips, but nothing to indicate what the letter contained. And it was hard to tell, all morning, that anything was wrong. Grouchy moods weren't exactly unknown when it came to him, after all - he and several of his guards had even grown up together, so that they knew that sometimes Jordan got snappish, sharp, rude with an edge of cruelty, and it didn't necessarily mean anything. Nothing that could be discerned, at any rate.
The news that Meghana Sankaran had left the Deck hadn't spread to the mid-and-low ranked Hearts until afternoon, by which time Jordan was long gone, having made a vague excuse about dealing with an issue at one of the more distant Heart homesteads, a farm not too far from the outposts. There wasn't any problem. He just needed...air, and driving seemed to be a good way to get it. Driving too fast, punching the accelerator with the windows down and the crisp autumn breeze whipping through his hair. It would have cleared his head, but the roads were still a little slick from last week's storm's runoff, and instead Jordan fishtailed outside Town, running off the road.
The car got the worst of it, really. He wrenched his knee, sure, and had managed some sort of mysterious scrape on his arm, but he shook away the nearby farmer's offer to fetch a doctor, and just asked for a tow and a lift back. He checked the car into the garage, waited with seeming patience for an estimate, and just gave the mechanic a distant nod at the exorbitant amount the repairs were going to cost him before leaving the man his number and limping out.
He hadn't managed to get that air yet.
The news that Meghana Sankaran had left the Deck hadn't spread to the mid-and-low ranked Hearts until afternoon, by which time Jordan was long gone, having made a vague excuse about dealing with an issue at one of the more distant Heart homesteads, a farm not too far from the outposts. There wasn't any problem. He just needed...air, and driving seemed to be a good way to get it. Driving too fast, punching the accelerator with the windows down and the crisp autumn breeze whipping through his hair. It would have cleared his head, but the roads were still a little slick from last week's storm's runoff, and instead Jordan fishtailed outside Town, running off the road.
The car got the worst of it, really. He wrenched his knee, sure, and had managed some sort of mysterious scrape on his arm, but he shook away the nearby farmer's offer to fetch a doctor, and just asked for a tow and a lift back. He checked the car into the garage, waited with seeming patience for an estimate, and just gave the mechanic a distant nod at the exorbitant amount the repairs were going to cost him before leaving the man his number and limping out.
He hadn't managed to get that air yet.