Survival

Jack had been attempting to finish reading his book for nearly half an hour now. All he'd managed to do so far in this sitting was re-read the same paragraph more times than he could bear to think about and gradually get more irate with each attempt. His brain was refusing to let the words sink in. It certainly didn't help that all the windows in the cottage were rather small and grimy, so they didn't let nearly enough of the early morning light in. Jack had to strain his eyes to properly see the slightly faded print and it was starting to give him a headache. There was also the fact that Logan was loudly doing stock-take in the next room and not without complaint. Every few minutes he'd utter some form of insult or curse, occasionally spicing it up with a particularly loud sigh or the pointed banging of an object onto a hard surface.

Jack dragged his hand through his short black hair and let out a frustrated sigh. He slipped his fingers under the folded bandana he wore as a headband and rubbed them over his temples in soothing circles. After a few calming moments of massage and deep breathing, he tried once again to read that blasted paragraph. Unfortunately it clearly wasn't meant to be, because just over halfway through the tricky section of text he realised that yet again he hadn't taken in a single word. Jack swore and slammed the tome shut with far more force than was necessary.

Jack tossed the book to the table his feet were currently resting on, and awkwardly reached behind him to fumble in the pocket of the jacket he had draped over the back of his chair. He struggled for a while, refusing to turn around out of pure stubbornness. Eventually he relaxed back into the chair with a triumphant smirk, a slightly crumpled packet of cigarettes in his hand. He pulled a cigarette and lighter from the pack and lit up, then threw the carton to the table where it skidded across the battered wood to join the book. Tipping the chair to balance on its hind legs, he let his head fall back and watched the stream of smoke that left his lips dance through a sunbeam, all twists, swirls and beautiful chaos.

"Disgusting habit."

The admonishment came from right beside him and Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, causing the chair to crash forward and settle on all four legs again. At least he could be proud of himself for having suppressed the yelp that had tried to burst from his throat. He covered it up with a brief but much less humiliating coughing fit, before scowling up at the intruder.

"Don't you have better things to do than follow me around making snide comments?" Not his best comeback, but he couldn't think of anything wittier whilst still trying to get his heartbeat under control. Blaze simply raised an eyebrow and plucked the hardly smoked cigarette from his lips, pushing his feet from the table with a pointed look as she passed him. He put them straight back up.

"Mature." Blaze rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She lifted herself up to sit comfortably on the counter, legs crossed and playful grin in place.

Blaze was probably stunningly beautiful once, Jack thought. She still was, in her own kind of way. She had large green eyes and a head of wild red curls that she tamed into a long braid most days. Jack figured that her bright hair and fiery personality were the main reasons she'd chosen the alias Blaze after everything happened. Either that or Blaze really was her birth name, but he doubted it.

A small smattering of freckles dusted her nose and cheekbones, hardly noticeable unless she'd been out in the sun. She had perfect lips and lovely bone-structure. Unfortunately, none of these things were what caught your attention when you met her for the first time. Instead, most people's eyes tended to be drawn to the dark leather eye-patch that covered her left eye. That or the ragged scar that stretched from the corner of her usually smiling mouth to disappear under the patch and resurface above it, bisecting what you could see of her eyebrow.