Jack looked back at Finley and noticed the new found cut, “I can patch you up when we get home, try to stop the bleeding though so apply pressure.”
Luckily it wouldn’t be too much longer until they they would arrive at Jack’s place. The further they moved up the levels of the lower city the louder it back. A riot. Jack could call it from a thousand levels away.
A ship in the dark ((closed//one-on-one))
(Sorry for disappearing again!! I needed some time to catch on my life before it all would come crashing down, you know?)
“Yes sir,” Finley replied curtly.
He pulled out a strip of old cloth from his bag, awkwardly balanced.
Using his hand and his mouth, he tied the strip over his cut.
He heard shouting now, pulled out of his thoughts. It was distant, but it sounded like a lot people shouting. There were a few things Finley could assume were happening, as well as some possibilities which depended on what living was like here.
“Can you tell me what it’s like living here? The government and such, equality, traditions and the like.”
(Lol, it's all good mate, I get it :) )
He sighed softly, shaking her his ever so slightly, "Government are real assholes. And I'm not talking like the assholes they had back in the day on Earth. I'm talking if you don't bring in any money for the Dictator?" He gestured to the ruins of the lower city around them, "You end up down here. Most of the people down here are kind, though, unlike the people in the higher levels."
“Huh … interesting. My mother would probably like it here…” he mumbled the last bit under his breath.
He was probably right. His mother had enough money to maybe even buy this whole ship and it’s people. She’d want to feel special too, and here, she could.
“We’ve clearly been living very different lives. If I could, I’d offer to bring you to Earth. But I probably should never go back there.”
Jack looked over his shoulder at him, raising a brow, "If that isn't somewhat frightening I don't know what is," He replied. He pushed aside some old fabric, a bustling street greeting the two of them, "You don't have to tell me what happened, but I am curious."
Finley contemplated how he should continue.
“I might as well tell you. I’ll probably end up telling you sooner or later, and I should get it off my chest.”
If he left what happened behind it could always catch up to him. Though he also chose to run away-which could have been a good decision.
“I’ll start with some context, I guess-“ he cleared his throat. “Back on Earth, most of our equality issues seem to be dealt with. Though, there is still a kind of unspoken imbalance. My, uh, mother … she liked attention a lot. She liked having money and living lavishly to an extreme point. My father was quite unlike her, for which I am grateful. He told me to focus more on my dreams and happiness. My mother liked to sell my paintings for her own profit, for things like going and hosting parties and buying more jewels.”
Finley stopped to take a breath, but also so he could prepare himself to continue. Since he had never told anyone about this, there was no way he could get this out without thinking about it.
Jack was quiet for a moment, “Wow… I’m sorry she was like that. I never knew my own mum but I know that’s not how mothers should be and for that I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t imagine his dad ever doing that to him, it was painful to think and it know that Finley had been through that hurt just as much.
“Well … it could be worse,” Finley said, knowing his story would only get worse.
“To continue, my mother had reached what would be an ‘all time low’. She’d sold all of my paintings and she had an impossible amount of money at this point, but she got so used to having a constant stream of money coming in, she became insatiable. People had become pretty used to her boasts and showing off, so she craved more attention too. So she had the genius idea to … uh, kill my father and I. She’d get a ton of attention that way if she made it seem like there was a huge accident and she grieved for us. She had plenty of money to cover it up anyway. So my father died rather quickly from being poisoned and I was next. And so, with an extreme amount of luck, I got rid of her, which now sounds horrible aloud, and I fled Earth, which brings me to here.”
Putting his story altogether and saying it aloud, just made Finley feel even worse than when he first left.
"Stars that's… wow that's a lot," He dodged some other passengers walking by with a cart full of food, handing them out to those who looked like they needed it most, "Sounds like some of the people who live here, they'd do anything for money. I'm sorry you had to go through that, and with your own mother. I shouldn't have asked.
(I’m sorry I take so long to respond.)
“Don’t worry yourself over it. I was probably bound to tell you anyway, and I shouldn’t just leave that story to be torn apart by my conscience.”
Finley looked around to the people he passed. The world definitely wasn’t in good shape, they could’ve been living fine lived on Earth. How did they manage to keep people alive here for so long?
(It's fine man, I get it)
The rioting got louder the further they traveled and jack became more and more tense. A boy ran past him, calling out, "Jack! The Dictator is at the riot for once, you've gotta come see!"
Jack smirked, turning to Finely, "Mind taking a detour?"
“I don’t even know where we’re going in the first place,” Finley said. “And I’m not exactly in a rush to be anywhere, so I don’t care.”
Both the words of the boy who spoke to Jack, and Jack’s own words, interested Fin. Who is this Dictator? Why is it such a big deal that he’s here? How many riots have there been? Why didn’t the Dictator show up?
Jack nodded, the smirk almost widening as he changed direction and headed off in the direction that the boy had gone, "Okay. Stick close, fights tend to break out pretty often at the riots and well, it's your first day here so I don't want you getting hurt."
“Right, okay. Uh, can I take your hand or something?” Finley figured that holding this guy’s hand would be much better than getting into the awkward situation where he gets lost.
There was a lot more people here, and probably even more where they were going. A very un-ideal place for Finley to be. If he were to get cut off or to fall, Finley would definitely die a lot more on the inside.
Jake nodded, though he felt his cheeks heat up just the tiniest bit, "Sure." He took Finley's hand, fingers and palm rough and scarred from years of work, "Stay close." The further they traveled, the louder and well, nicer the place became. Houses weren't tents of metal but actual houses and large ones at that. It was brighter, less polluted.
Relief washed over Finley when Jack accepted and held out his hand. Now he didn’t have as much to worry about.
Jack’s hand was very rough and callous to the touch, not that it surprised Fin.
As Finley ran with Jack, it seemed to be bit more like Earth, but at the same time it wasn’t. The area was definitely improving more out here, nicer buildings and really just a nicer environment.
This is probably peak inequality.
Eventually, they made it to the back of a large group of people. It was clear that this was the main deck, the main public area. In the middle was a large fountain and behind that a large stage. Erected up behind, was a statue of a man with a large beard, more on the skinny side with a top hat. Something that would have been around during Earth's early 1900's. On the stage stood that exact man and it seemed that most people in the crowd were people like Jack. Booing and glaring and spewing hate at him.
Finley tried to take in what he was seeing, hate directed towards a particular man, the difference in scenery, the crowd.
His senses were mainly overpowered by the noise though. It was like a social gathering here, or rather, it could be seen as one. He didn’t really know anyone well here either, so there wasn’t any hope of comfort from someone else.
Finley held onto Jack’s hand harder in an attempt to comfort himself and pretend he was safe.
Jack have Finley's hand a small squeeze back, "If you need to go just say and we can." He said, looking up at him and offering a small smile before he focused back on the man on the stage. He shouted, trying to calm down the hate that was being spewed at him with no luck. Jack glared, watching his movements.
Finley was more reassured that he wouldn’t need to stay for long. However, Jack seemed to enjoy being here- in his own kind of way. He could probably stand being here a bit, mainly for Jack.
At this point Finley decided his should try to hide away in his thoughts to survive. He’d need to thank Jack, but what could he possibly do? He had nearly nothing to offer, and friendship probably wouldn’t cut it, that kind of thing only works in a story.
(lololol, I love Finley so much)
The group all seemed to be chanting the same thing at this point, "Down with the Dictator! Bring in equality! Jack called out a few times, though he was holding back knowing that Finley didn't want to be there. After a few minutes, he left the stage, causing even more booing and food being thrown at the stage.
Finley didn’t exactly know what kind of person Jack was in the first place though. If he really pushed, maybe friendship could make it. That was hoping for too much though.
A painting probably wouldn’t help him at all either, unless … The snobby people up here could buy a painting using whatever currency they had. If Finley could make something of enough value and that interested the people here, he could try and pay Jack. But then again, was he that kind of person? Did they have currency that would be of any value to him?
As soon as the Dictator was gone, most of the crowd seemed to disperse. Jack said goodbye to a few of them, having a small conversation with two before his attention was back on Finley. He seemed slightly pissed off now, but still generally happy, "Right, let's go. Sorry you had to see that."
Finley pulled himself out of his thoughts, “Huh? Right, uh, I managed to ignore most of it I think, so it’s fine.”
Maybe he should ask Jack about how he should be thanked, but then would he want to be? Finley would probably be leeching off Jack a bit for now too, since he knew no one and nothing.
"Okay, good. Come on, let's go get your arm patched up." Jack inclined his head, leading them back towards the lower levels of the ship.
Honestly he was glad Finley ignored most of the riot. He'd been pretty scared at his first, all the loud noises and people fighting and shouting. He enjoyed it now, but for someone just boarding the ship it could be quite overwhelming.
Finley followed Jack back down to the lower levels, or rather, was brought down still holding his hand.
He noticed a few of the same things they’d passed the first time he’d come up. It would take a while to accustom to being here. What would he do with his ship as well? He shouldn’t let it become forgotten wreckage, but how would he keep he maintained out here.
The journey to Jack's small… well, it wasn't exactly a house more apartment like place was fairly quick. He didn't want to leave Finley's wound unattended for too long. The metal down here had been rusting for years and he certainly didn't want him getting an infection.
He pushed open an old, broken down metal door, wincing at the squeak and making a note to oil it later as he led the other inside.
It was small. The main room was basically a living room, dining room, study and kitchen all in one small space. There were three doors, one led to a bathroom, the other two bedrooms.
Finley looked around Jack’s home and tried not to touch anything. It certainly felt a lot more homely and warm, like someone actually lived here, than where he spent a lot of his time.
If Finley has grown up with just his father, their home probably would be filled with a lot more warmth and happiness. His mothers interests and choices in homes, was very … unique to say the least. Her homes were more for show than for living.
“Take a seat at the table, I’ll go get some creams and bandages.” Jack gestured to the table before rushing off into another room, grabbing a medical kit and quickly returning.
Finley sat down, glad he had the chance to walk around a lot, and glad he could sit down again.
He looked to his cut, only now noticing how the wound stung against the cloth he had tied around it. Of course he had to get cut, it could be worse though and Finley doubted that he’d be doing anything that would make it worse.
Finley cleared his throat, he might as well try everything he could think of to thank Jack, than get into an awkward conversation where he’d need to ask how he should thank him.
“Uh, thank you Jack. You know … for everything you’ve done so far. Answering my questions and whatever …”