The Red Right Hand

I'm Cheap To Rent

"This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; the words expressly are "a pound of flesh." The Merchant Of Venice Act 4, scene 1

Water fell over him in hot streams, running across deep faded scars, each one tethered to a story from a different time and place. His fresh cuts stung, the heat of the water seeping into the pierced flesh that hadn't quite healed yet. He realized the time, placing his hand on the dial, turning it till water ceased. He ran his hand over his forehead, brushing damp strands of dark hair from his face and green eyes. With the other, he pushed back the curtain, the bathroom filled with a thick rising steam that clung to the cool surface of the tile and glass.

"Hey, coffee's done!" he heard Rose call from behind the door.

"Kay, be out right out!"

He pulled the towel off the bar and blotted his face and neck, then wrapped it around his waist. He opened the door, greeted by the cold air of the drafty apartment. He spotted her white hair first, the untamed locks cascading around her thin, but well-formed shoulders. She looked over at him and smiled softly, taking a mug in her hands and bringing it to him.

"Here, black, no sugar—just how you like it," Rose said handing him the cup.

Jason took it with and smirked at the sight. "Thanks, that was awfully domestic of you. You feeling okay?"

He reached out his hand, placing it on her forehead as though she were running a fever.

She laughed and swatted his hand away playfully. "You make it sound like putting a K-cup in a Keurig machine is a difficult task."

"Well for someone who could fuck up a bowl of cereal—" Jason laughed, but stopped as Rose punched his arm, not even realizing her own strength.

"That was one time, douchebag," she giggled, "and I was really drunk."

Jason placed his cup down and tried pulling Rose closer as she playfully tried to fight back. He finally got his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her, Rose still coyly trying to resist.

"You're cute when you're annoyed," Jason teased, trying to persuade her.

"And you're cute when you don't get what you want."

"Is this cause I insulted your cooking or lack thereof?"

"Asshole."

"Sounds like me."

Jason pressed his lips to hers for a moment, which did not last long. The sound of a generic ringtone echoing through the thick of the air.

"Shit, that's me," Rose said picking up her phone from the counter where it instantly called. "Dear old dad," she sighed, looking at the burner a moment. Her hands not really willing to answer.

"You gonna get that?" Jason asked noticing her resistance.

She looked up at him and bit her lip. "It can wait a few minutes. I'm sure he just wants to know how last night's detour went."

Jason nodded and took a sip of his coffee then took her hand in his. "If you were in trouble, or you thought that Slade was gonna do anything, you'd tell me, right?"

Rose smiled, feeling the genuine protectiveness in Jason voice, nodded. "Yeah."

"I really hope you mean that."

"Me too." She smiled and ran her thumb over his knuckles, the two both sort of questioning her sincerity.

Her loyalty to father was something she was always teetering on.