Heart of Darkness

[bandersnatch]

(1) New Message
From: Jon Rossum
8/2/11
6:17 pm

hey man u should cum wit me
2 c this bitch i no at bleeding
harts. will b fun ;) - j

Oh Jon Rossum. The man to convince David to move to New York. Back in Santa Monica, David came upon quite the scene in a bar. Some stupid man had bet his Lamborghini Gallardo in a High Stakes game of Texes Hold Em, and had lost fair and square. Mr. Rossum was simply collecting on his debts. The confrontation quickly turned violent, and David joined the fight, eventually landing the KO on the owner of said Lambo. David grabbed the keys from the man, and Jon took him for celebratory Taco Bell. The two had been as Thick as Thieves ever since, and when David told Jon that he needed to get out of SoCal, Jon was the driving force for him to come to New York.

So of course, when Jon wanted David to go somewhere, David went. Cringing his way through the grammar and spelling errors, David gathered that Jon wanted to go to Bleeding Hearts, a classy (and expensive), restaurant chain. There had been one in Los Angeles, but David never had the means to go. But, as he knew, money was next to nothing for Jon, especially when it came to people Jon considered 'friends.' Shooting back a quick 'K,' David rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He knew that he was going to regret the sleeping schedule he had been on when he started teaching after the summer was over. Stupid eastern time. Truthfully, he had been awake for a few hours, but was so exhausted that he had just stayed in bed, watching TV.

He meandered to his bathroom and showered quickly, knowing he had about an hour before Jon expected him to be at the restaurant. He stepped out and walked to the kitchen, stark naked to start some coffee while he got dressed. Nothing fancy, blue jeans, a striped shirt, a black blazer. Brown belt, black loafers. His glasses. Coffee in a disposable cup, he was out the door and in his car in a flash.

Jacobs Apartment complex wasn't necessarily in the city, he had a bit of a drive to Bleeding Hearts, but it was fine. It gave him more time to prepare. Jon was cool, but sometimes he could be...a little much. But they were bros, and there was a bro code to uphold. He wondered if he was finally going to meet Jon's Amy, but knowing Jon, probably not. It sucked for the girls in question, but David was desensitized to Jon's terribleness, because David himself wasn't exactly a morally upstanding gentleman. He passed by a mall, where three teenage girls stood talking, as if to remind him of this fact. He rolled his eyes and sped on.

After finding parking in the city (a feat in and of itself), he walked up to the restaurant, running his hand through his short brown hair. He spotted the tall, thin, lanky form of Jon standing in front of the restaurant, and hoped he hadn't been waiting. "Hey man. Sorry, traffic was a bitch. What's up? Who are we meeting?" He offered an easy smile. At least he had someone to hang out with to curb the crushing boredom and loneliness.

OUTFIT OF A LAZY DAVID!

[JONATHON ROSSUM]

Today, Jon needed a laugh. Amy had mentioned in passing that there was a certain someone in New York City. The red headed she beast dragon lady from the seventh circle of hell, who- due to the newly promised friendship between his love and her (as Amy was ridiculously forgiving)- he was now required to call Maggie. Honestly, he had never really liked her all that much. Though, in some ways, Maggie got to see the parts he couldn't show Amy. Hell, if Maggie and Amy could be one girl...

Fuck.

Not that he'd ever change Amy.

She was perfection.

But... Maggie certainly had her perks. No inhibitions, cute in her way. Like a small titted Jessica Rabbit. Nice ass though.

So he called up his bro, Davey. Fucking Davey. Davey was safe, because, to be crass (as Jon always was) Amy had a bit too much hair down there, if one caught the meaning. Davey liked them young. A card holder to The Jail Bait Squads Peepers. Not too young that it was sick. And, frankly, if Jon found something sick, it was pretty fucking sick. Thus, Davey was okay to be around his Trinket.

Now, one would have to pause and wonder why Jon was putting himself in the line of temptation. After all, Maggie had been a brilliant fuck. And, quite frankly, if he slept with her, AGAIN, and Amy found out, AGAIN, so much hell would be awaiting him to be paid. Not even the smooth ass Jabberwock could talk his way out of that one. But, he reasoned (And when Jon reasoned, one had to be prepared for shrapnel), Maggie and he would need to be in the same room. So... he needed them to be cool.

Who knew, maybe her tiny tots would rev Davey's engine.

Seeing the squirrely mother fucker (daughter fucker, if you thought about it) come in, Jon put his arm around Davey's neck. "It is what it is, my teenybopperfopper. Fact is your here." A wide smirk was on his face, despite his hushed tone, keeping the teenybopper comment on the DL. "And we are here to see the lusciously twat buttoned faced Miss Marguerite Sinclaire. Me and her have a... history, that needs to be sorted." He shrugged, dismissively. As if this was not a horrible idea, as if it did not have the possibility of imploding right in his face. "What about you? Watching episodes of iCarly, eh? Tissues at ready, remote at a safe but reachable distance." Letting out a thick chortle, Jon ruffled his friends hair. "I'm kidding, bro. Seriously, relax. Tonight will be fun."

Fun.

Super duper fun.

[bandersnatch]

David loved Jon. He was like a frat boy, always crass, and party, and sex, and women, and drugs. He was occasionally inappropriate, but he knew about David's secret, and did not judge. As a matter of fact, Jon often thought it hilarious. Busted a gut over the whole thing. David saw the reason they got on so well was that Jon accepted David, and David would never try and steal away what Jon found so precious. The reason why Jon found this Amy girl so insanely important was completely lost on David, of course. From what he knew of her, she was a plain girl, with not a lot going for her. But, different strokes for different folks.

David cringed a bit at the teenybopper comment, but was used to such talk from Jon. Jon took the most childish pleasure at taking the piss out of someone, especially if it was said someones weaknesses. He rolled his eyes, "You think maybe you could say that louder? I don't think the mayor heard you." Of course, nobody heard Jon's little nickname, but David still didn't think it was funny. A sickness is what it was.

On the knowledge of what they were doing here, David stopped dead. "You brought me here...to see an old girlfriend?"[/b] The name rang a bell, he remembered a story, vaguely. Something about Amy, and breaking up...oh. "You brought me so I could cockblock." Of course. Jon couldn't be trusted alone with any female. Especially not an ex fuck. He sighed resignedly, and half laughed at the iCarly joke. "Shows how much you know, dickweasel. I was actually watching Victorious." The conversation made him uncomfortable, but hanging around Jon always made him feel like a better person by proxy, so it wasn't that bad of a problem. He lightly punched Jon on the arm. "Yeah bro, fun. About as fun as a root canal. This bitch is probably crazy about you. I mean, you fucked her right?" And as most of Jon's friends knew, once Jon laid down the law, girls would cross state lines to get in bed with him again. He collected followers like the freaking Beatles.

"So,"[/b] He said suddenly, clapping his hands together and rubbing them excitedly, scanning the small romantic restaurant, "Where is the little firecrotch?"

[JONATHON ROSSUM]

Jon gave his friend a not-so-sorry look as he was chided for speaking a little too loud. Honestly, who the fuck was listening? No one, that's who. Did Davey really think the mayor gave a shit what diddled his dangle? He had far more important things to worry about, like- Jon didn't know. Economics or some shit.

But Jon did manage to give a highly amused laugh as Davey started to unravel who Maggie was. "Jesus Christ in a taco, no. She's not an ex girlfriend. Just a girl I use to fuck, you know. Had to get my dick wet." He shrugged, always the dog chasing cars. "And, yeah, I guess you're here to partially do the c-block tango. What of it? Who knows, she might put the tingle in your two step, bro." Jon's pronounced (REALLY REALLY FREAKING PRONOUNCED) brow moved up and down suggestively, a wily grin crossing his face.

Despite the fact that they were in a classy restaurant, Jon began to hoot with laughter at being called dickweasel. Especially as Davey boy admitted to fapping his own weasel to Nickolodeon programming. More or less. Was that sarcasm? As it seemed to be left to Jon's imagination, and he was always one to assume people to be as lecherous as he, he decided to go with an affirmative.

"While I gotta say, it pleases me to know you fully appreciate the power that my dick possesses, I honestly don't know what her reaction is going to be." Jon shrugged, rumpling his thick brown hair. His black eyes scanned around for her, wondering what Maggie he'd see today. Part of him would be offended if she wasn't at least a little interested in hitting the sack.

Not that he was going to, probably.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Eh, who was he, Nostra-fucking-damus?

The point was it wasn't premeditated. So, that made him a little impressive, right? At least, impressive for Jon. He was like a kid with down syndrome, when it came to shit like this. No one really had high expectations of him, sans Amy of course, so when he did something like simple multiplication, he got a full on applause.

His multiplication being- you know- not fucking random bitches.

Or, in this case, Maggie.

"No idea, Brother David, she'll be around I'm sure. The scent of fresh meat will catch her nostrils, and the need to feed will come upon her." He grinned, chuckling. "Better be careful, Davey Boy, she's a maneater." A thought crossed him, that perhaps their hooking up wouldn't be such a bad thing, despite the thick stew of jealousy in his gut. Not jealousy prompted by giving any shit about Maggie, but that Maggie would possibly want to play with someone else. "Who knows, she's also a chameleon. Maybe she can give you a legal way to exercise some of those demons. Play the naughty school girl and the ruler bearing teacher." Jon winked, rumpling his hair, eyes scanning around. "You know, since you won't just fuck one of the nymphets already..."

[MAGGIE SINCLAIRE]

OUTFIT OF REALLY NOT PLANNING TO SEE HER EX TODAY.

This assistant. Maggie swore to God, she was three minutes away from snapping the twig in half. It hardly mattered if Maggie was dressed professionally today, did it? She owned the place. But this little twit had no business being in those skinny jeans. And not even because she had the most hideous case of kanklelitus that Maggie had ever seen, despite being skinny (Riddle her that!), but she was specifically told that she was to dress a certain way. "-and then you have a phone conference with your Father at three. Followed up by a dinner date with Mr. Frost-" She'd really been talking for almost a solid ten minutes, and it was Maggie's light day.

This had to end.

Interrupting the nit, Katie and Carly or something, Maggie spoke in a quiet and calm, but sardonic tone. "I don't mean to be rude, but are you mentally retarded?" Obviously, despite her words contradicting what she was saying, Maggie did indeed mean to be rude. Not exactly helping her case, the assistant just stared- gawked- blinking at Maggie. "Listen, Cammy-"

"J-janine." She piped up, voice quiet and mouse-like.

Sighing, Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. "What are you on about?" Honestly, Maggie over paid these people. Stupid wage laws.

The creature before her seemed to be wondering if she should carry on with whatever noise she was on about. Sickening. "My name. It's Janine." There was an awkwardness that filled the air, caused fully by this girl who's name was apparently Janine.

"Are you sure?" Maggie inquired skeptically, looking her over. It would suit this little twad, to have an ugly name like Janine. She was a hideous thing. Why did Maggie hire her? Oh, right, because when you surrounded yourself with moderately attractive people, you looked even more stunning.

That, Maggie lied to herself, was why her and Amy had become friends.

Janine blinked. "I-I would know... wouldn't I?"

Maggie pondered this for a moment, shrugging, as she made her way out of her office, speaking as her Mary Jane heels clicked on the polished wood floors. "Well, Jessica, here's the thing... how do I put this?" Her plaid skirt was just a little short, making her already killer long legs simply to die for. White tank shirt that was cutesy, with a sweater that she adored, covered in red hearts. "'You're being let go.' 'Your department's being downsized.' 'You're part of an outplacement.' 'We're going in a different direction.' 'We're not picking up your option.'" Turning on heel to the startled girl, who continued her unattractive gawk, Maggie wondered if she left too much to the imagination. "You're fired, Jennifer. Buh-bye."

"But I've always done EXACTLY what you've told me to do!" The girl spoke indignantly, her voice still meek. How droll.

Maggie was bored.

Waving over the security she kept at the restaurant, whatsherface was escorted out, too busy sobbing to really cause too much of a ruckus. What a waste of time. Maggie would have to find someone devoted, but less weak next time around. Her hazel eyes scanned over the restaurant, as fresh roses were put in the vases. Bleeding Hearts was a strictly evening opened venue, unless otherwise rented. There was one in each of its placed states: California, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, and Louisiana. Only one, as they were not The Olive Garden. Twiddling her little locket in between her red painted fingernails, Maggie's eyes caught-

Holy Hell.

Sonofabitch.

Go figure Jon Rossum would just decide to pop up! Maggie glowered to herself, as she figured Amy must have told him she was here. Bitch. She did that on purpose, knowing he'd come and see her. She wasn't ready yet! She looked like a mess! Her hair was so plain, her make up was less that perfection, she was wearing a shirt with a GOD DAMN PANDA ON IT FOR CHRISTSAKES! Still, with the regal bearing of a Queen, Maggie approached.

"Well, well, well." She spoke boldly, noting how... how good he looked. There was some defined muscle tone going on under that shirt. His hair was artfully messy, he seemed taller. More mature. Not that you'd get any of these perceptions from her face or voice. The way she played it, this was a normal occurrence. "If it isn't the horseman of the apocalypse himself." A small, patronizing, smirk played over her.

Oh, look at that. He brought a friend. "Hello there. I'm Maggie." She spoke, her tone far more friendly to the stranger. if Jon wanted to surprise her, she could surprise him right back. He was probably expecting her to fawn all over him...

Well, lets see how what he thought about her fawning over his... unconventional looking friend, shall we?

Holding out her hand, she gave one of her sweetest, most heartmeltingest, smile at David. "And you are?"

[bandersnatch]

Oh Jon. For all of the absolutely terrible he was, David couldn't help but love him. They had stopped in the middle of the restaurant, which wasn't due to open for another hour. Swank place. Possibly took the hearts thing too literally. The red lights against the red walls flickered slightly, giving the illusion that the place was alive, that he was inside an actual heart. It was almost comforting, in an unsettling way. He had tuned Jon out during his observations, and faded back in just about when Jon decided to joke about Maggie being able to tantalize poor David. Yeah, that was likely. "Sorry bro, you can't unload your sloppy seconds on to me,"[/b] a cheeky smile crossed his face. "That is, unless Miss Amelia is up for grabs."[/b] That was sure to get a rise. Jon was protective of Amy to a fault, and though he knew that Amy was not what tickled David's pickle, Jon was sure to forget for a moment and freak out. Which would be hilarious.

And quite possibly very dangerous.

Oh well!

"But really man, I doubt that your little tart will be interested in fucking me regardless of whether I wanted it or not. Your swag is just too much for me."[/b] And it was true. Jon got bitches wherever he went. Honestly, why Amy had taken him back was unfathomable to David. Possibly because Jon never showed his worst to his darling little Amelia. Apparently, she didn't know anything about him. Not his infidelities, his rampant cocaine use, his violent streak. It was kind of like Jon was two people. It would have been cool if it wasn't so reprehensible.

Without warning, two security guards rushed past them, escorting a sobbing teenager out, who kept repeating the name 'Janine' like some kind of lunatic. Huh. Following this display was a girl who was very big on the idea of Red. He assumed that this must have been Maggie. She was stunning, but had a certain aura about her. Like some kind of impenetrable shell that even she herself couldn't break through. And though she was far too old to attract him, he did like the way her skirt fluttered around her thighs. He could appreciate a beautiful woman, and he could see why Jon couldn't really stay away.

Maggie turned her smoulder on him, and he was charmed instantly. That smile was gorgeous. She seemed like a girl he could be friends with. Of course, he was in no way attracted to her, but still. It was nice to be hit on. "Nice to meet you, Maggie. I'm David." He took her pale hand in his and grinned lopsidedly. "So you own this place? Pretty swank."[/b]

[JONATHON ROSSUM]

Jon could take a joke. Really, he could. If he passed out at your house and you drew a dick on his face, alright. Egg on his face. Or- well- dick. If you handed him a yellow snow cone, and the taste of piss suddenly filled his mouth, after a quick mouth purifying swig of jager, he could offer a chuckle. But one thing you never, ever, EVER did to Jonathon Christopher Rossum was make joke about sleeping with his Amy. All amusement left his face, all trace of mirth vanished in an instant. His black eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and the vain the very corner of his forehead made a quick appearance.

Yes, he knew consciously that Amy was not David's type. Too old, first of all. Her conversation topics did not involve pep squad and Justin Timberlake and... and... what else did teenage girls like? Stickers... She was an image of maturity and grace and beauty. Her breasts were fully developed, and oh how the cup of boobage spillithed over. But Jon was not a conscious man, was he? He was a man who heard what he heard, and reacted.

And the current reaction that flirted with his balled fist was pounding in the face of who could easily be described as his best friend and homie. Violently. With violence.

And had Maggie Sinclaire not come at the most inopportune time- though quite opportune for David, most certainly, Jon would have reacted violently. With her greeting, naturally bitchy and snide, his attention was momentarily stolen. At her gaze of contempt, Jon could only smirk. Oh Maggie, so good at playing hard to get. As if he couldn't while his way into that plaid skirt and have her pressed against the wall within the hour.

But wait, hold on, plaid skirt.

It would seem that slut magic had once again consumed Maggie Sinclaire. Had he not been so certain that she was unaware of David's little fetish of the nymphlets, he'd be certain she had done it on purpose. It was, after all, the sort of thing she would do. Maggie had always needed to be the center of attention, in all aspects of life. If she didn't have twenty seven- why twenty seven, he had no idea- twenty seven girls loathing her, and twenty nine guys mentally undressing her, she didn't even know what she was doing with her life. But, as twenty seven/twenty nine was such a hard number to keep in a room, it was satisfactory to her that everyone within the vicinity feel these feelings of feeling towards her. Thus, the little school girl outfit could have been construed as a way to attract fugly ass, not funny at all, David. But, as previously stated, she had no way of knowing his little kink.

Whore wizardry- one. Life- zero.

Jon watched, jealousy brewing dis-satisfactorily in his gut, as she cast her pirate hooker eyes on David. Who, Jon may have stated before, was not funny. Or attractive. Especially when standing so close to Jon, who was the pinnacle of manly manness. Virile, attractive, blessed in the hammer region. The hammer of course being his junk.

Putting on a mask of friendliness, Jon grinned, wrapping his arm around his bestest homie pal buddy friend's shoulder. "Oh, come on now guys. I'm the bridge here, at least let me make the introductions. David, the infamous Marguerite Sinclaire. She's a life ruiner. She ruins lives." He flashed her his most winning smile. "And Mags, this is Davey Throne. He's a pervert. Ask him." When you fucked Jon, you fucked the best. And when you fucked with Jon, you fucked with the best. Generally if that darling little fuck word was involved, Jon excelled at it beyond all reason.

Yeah, it was pretty hard to be as amazing as Jon Rossum.

[MAGGIE SINCLAIRE]

Momentarily, David held Maggie's attention. He was tall, which was rather nice as Maggie loathed short men, though a bit gangly. His nose was far too big for his face, and his default expression seemed to be one of a kicked puppy. Not the best looking guy Maggie had ever seen, to be sure, but certainly not the worse. Shaking his hand, Maggie bore the flirtatious smirk that Maggie always bore upon meeting new men.

But hark, what have we here?

It would seem the green eye of jealousy had casted it's gaze at Jon Rossum. How lovely. She had seen this before, long ago, in the days of High School. In their troupe of friends, Jon Rossum ruled as king. And little miss Amelia Winston was his mousy little queen, pretty if you liked that sort of thing, Maggie supposed. Popular with the gents who circled around her like buzzards to a carcase, though none of them dared cross Jon. But, little did Amy know, that King Jon had himself a little courtesan. She couldn't have been all that amazing, little Amy Pop, if he was sneaking away in the midst of the night to have a romping game of tumble-in-the-sheets with Maggie, could she?

But, looky-loo. Oh, Jonny boy, how he had grown. Muscle definition was noticeable, even through his shirt. His skin seemed a bit more peaky, and his eyes seemed a bit darker than she remembered. Was he taller, as well?

At his words, Maggie couldn't help but smirk a little. So, she was a life ruiner? Had she ruined his life? Hrm? Well, it would seem that his changes were purely physical. Same old Jon, loves to play pass the blame, even when caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Metaphorically speaking of course. Maggie hadn't made him do anything he hadn't wanted to do, after all. But at his description of David- Davey he was called, how adorable- as being a pervert, Maggie's face was suddenly one of interest. "A pervert you say? That sounds interesting..." She winked at David Boy, who had Jon's tentacle-like arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Stepping away, Maggie waved for them to follow her in. "I suppose wanting a free meal prompted this little visit, Jon Jon?" Waving her hand at one of the members of staff, who shuffled away rather quickly. The staff of Bleeding Hearts had all seen the swift, back hand, of Maggie Sinclaire's temper. "Fine, fine. That's fine." She spoke, voice light and flouncy. Yes, fine, just fine. Though she knew that Jon wasn't here for food. But what he was here for, exactly, was a mystery still to Maggie. If it was simply for a fuck, he wouldn't have brought a friend. Not to say that Jon didn't appreciate an audience, but...

Well, no matter. He'd bring it up when he was good and ready.

Instead she motioned for the boys to sit. "Well, David, since we're meeting the first time around-" A waiter brought them a bottle of white wine, moscato, pouring them each a glass, never minding whether the boys wanted it. "-how about you light me a cigarette, and tell me what your perversion is." Jon had said to ask, after all. Taking her wine glass by it's delicate stem, Maggie sipped, eyes scanning her guests carefully. The air was rather comfortable, at the moment, rather smooth. It was rarely so, with Jon, but something felt different at this moment.

Maturity?

Perhaps.

Though unlikely.

Maggie merely assumed, for now, that it was a temporary situation.

After all.

It's was Jon Rossum.