2024-12-19 - Prize-winning Relationships

It's late in the evening and much of the crowd has made their way to the end of the night parades or are trying to get in their last big ride. A lot of the games have little to no lines at this point, which is why Huck is strolling along the Midway. He's wearing a pair of ratty old khaki cargo pants and a flannel over a tight A-shirt. His hands are dug deep in his pockets and his tail hangs low and sullen as he looks from game to game, seeking not a specific challenge, but rather a specific game runner. When he finally spots Jett, he drags his feet over to stand in line behind the person currently playing. His tail curls a bit forward at the end, on the ground between his feet, as he waits.

Jett is working the mini-jug booth; it's the booth where three mini jugs are set up in a pyramid and the player has to knock all three off the platform to win a prize. The signs say five bucks for three balls so it's a little high risk but at least there's three opportunities to clear the jugs. Jett hands off a medium looking prize to the customer; it's a Christmas themed elf with a funny nose and curled up booties. The customer looks happy enough with the win and strolls off with their partner; the elf enthusiastically shared between them. Another happy customer.

Jett then turns to the figure who had been waiting behind them, perhaps having not realized who it was upon arrival. There's no mistaking who it was now though and Jett greets with a pretty even toned, "Hey." There's no one behind Huck as the park is emptying but the operators of the booths would be out the latest since there could be money to be made from the last minute visitors who really didn't want their day to end. His gaze flicks around to check the area and then turns back to Huck, "What's up?"

Huck pulls out a ten dollar bill from his pocket. "I um... I wanted to try this game." He shrugs a little as he cautiously approaches, his tail still hanging between his legs. "I used to think these games were all rigged," he says as he lays the ten on the ledge. "But um... I uh, had this friend who... He told me they weren't rigged because the guys who run the games have a code of honor." He swallows a little, glancing away, then back at Theo, "He said they just have different difficulty levels. And they adjust them."

Huck sighs, "I'm not sure we're friends any more, though. Which sucks. I fucked it all up, but I really liked him. He was..." He shakes his head a little, and looks at Jett. "He was the most elusive prize of them all. And I was unable to win him." He pushes the ten dollar bill across the ledge. "Maybe I might do better this time."

Jett arches a brow as he sees the money coming out of Huck's pocket. Jett looks a little different in his uniform then how he is normally dressed; he absolutely hates the white pants but that's the uniform! They're slacks with a stupid line down the front of them and he's wearing a teal winter jacket with purple trim around it since it's cold out. He has a purple beanie on with a white pom-pom too; completely ridiculous but it absolutely tones down his otherwise emo expression which can still be seen in piercings that show.

He watches Huck without saying anything as Huck approaches, regarding where the ten was put on the ledge, then back as he listens. "You should listen to your friend," Jett says with that even tone of his, keeping everything a mystery of how he's feeling or what he's thinking behind that expression of glass. He may have been smiling for customers prior but right now there's that practiced neutrality about him that is as cold as ice. But he is turning toward the mini jugs and setting them all up and in doing so accidently knocks them over to where they spill out of view and then he is grabbing for them and setting them up again.

When he turns back he has six balls for Huck that he leaves on the ruts designed to hold the balls for the customer on the top of the booth. "That sounds hard," he says again in that same monotone way, until he asks, playing along, "How'd you fuck it all up?" He considers Huck while he moves to the side and out of the way of any attempts to be made while he looks at the ten and takes it, shoving into an apron that he has on barely showing underneath his jacket. The money is stuffed in there. "Did he want to be won? Far as I can tell people don't want to be viewed as prizes or trophies." He shrugs as he folds his arms across his chest and nods toward the pyramid of mini jugs, "Maybe."

Huck takes a moment to study the balls. He picks one up, turning it over in his claw, feeling it. He shrugs a little, "I think we all want to be won a little. To be seen, desired. To have someone want to play the game because they want to take you home with them." He looks at the ball again. "I fucked it up because I don't understand what the hell I'm doing. I've never tried to win a prize before." He throws the first ball, which catches the tip of the rim of the lower right jug, bouncing off into the backstop without moving the jugs at all. "Ever."

"I've no idea how dating's supposed to work. Was that even what we were doing? I mean, it was one date. Was that enough for us to be monogamous? I don't know. I mean... maybe it was, I guess." He inhales, and shakes his head, looking at Jett. "I just... I've spent my whole life feeling alone. Like I need to be with people so fucking bad, Jett." He gestures at his ear, and his eyes are a little glossy, "I'm damaged goods." He sniffs, and pushes it all back down. "I connect with people and make them feel good and it makes me feel better. I like feeling good, but I'm clearly just a piece of shit." He throws another ball, this one misses completely, but 'thwaps' against the backdrop with greater force than the first. "I never meant to make you feel bad."

Jett lowers his eyes a little in a way that speaks of him sort of getting absorbed in his thoughts as Huck speaks of all wanting to be won a little and to be desired. "Sex is easy," Jett notes with that hard apathy, "You can have sex with someone if you're forward and they want it too. If that was the end game, maybe it should have been the first thing out of your mouth." Jett looks over at Huck with a placid expression, somehow keeping expression from turning his lips in either direction. His attention follows the first ball and watches as it sails toward the jugs only to glance off the jugs.

"It was one date," he agrees, "But it's usually common practice not to go fuck your date's best friend the next day. That kind of spoils it." He notes, "Not that I think they're best friends anymore either." Jett shrugs and notes, "Some people got loyalty, some don't. Everyone will cut you eventually it's just a matter of when." He looks to Huck when Huck opens up about being alone and being damaged goods. Jett does show a slight frown when Huck calls himself a piece of shit. The ball sort of gives him space to think.

"I let myself think for a split second the 'whole' butterfly in your stomach thing meant something," Jett leans up against the booth post, "It was a good reminder of the 'lines' people feed me. Let's fuck is far more direct and saves time; I prefer it."

"You're right," Huck acknowledges. "Sex is easy. If that was what I wanted, I would have just said it. But it wasn't the first thing out of my mouth with you because it wasn't the end game," Huck says quietly. His tail hasn't moved at all, still limp at his feet, like a dog that knows he's done something wrong. "Theo and I didn't fuck... not that it matters. It doesn't change what you're saying. You're right."

He picks up another ball. "The first time I saw you, you were staring at my tail. You had gotten up from your table and came over to help pick up a bunch of stuff I had knocked over, and you couldn't take your eyes off it." He swallows, kind of loudly. "People stare at my tail all day long. I'm a freak, or I'm some kinky furry fantasy, or I'm a victim of the island magic, or I'm a cool fantasy creature... They say all sorts of things. Some of it's good, some of it's bad. But you?" He smiles a little, "You saw it with the awe and envy I only get from innocent minded little kids. You saw it with wonder. And you didn't ask me if it was real, or what it feels like, or what it can do. You didn't say anything at all about it."

"You said, 'Empy seat. I got waffles coming.'" Huck closes his eyes and he exhales. "You saw the tail but saw that it was just me. You saw ME. And my heart skipped a beat and your right." He tosses his hands to the side, one still holding the ball, and they fall back to his hips. "It wasn't a line. I felt them," he says of the butterflies. "Shit, I'm feeling them now. But you're right. They should have meant something. I just didn't know what. Not really."

He sits the ball back down. "It doesn't matter what difficulty level it's at. I don't know how to play."

Jett has noticed the absence of the tail's happy movements with the casual brief glances to note the absence of it in his vision, somewhere down below blocked by the booth's stall he's in. Though it's not the tail he needs to see to know what sort of emotion Huck was going through; he knew it because he had felt it the day and days after he sorted out the news of what transpired.

Jett still doesn't interject, letting Huck speak.

Through all of it, Jett actually holds his tongue. He listens. He observes.

His hand reaches for the ball as it's put back down and he admits to Huck, "I don't know how to play either but I keep throwing the ball. Eventually it'll hit because every failed throw, I learn something valuable; my arms also start to strengthen, my aim tightens, my focus narrows in." He does a 'leaping over a hood hollywood style' over the booth and ends up on Huck's side of the game. He reaches down to grab Huck's wrist and forces the ball into his hand, "Life gives some shit lessons, but if you really want that stupid prize, you have to keep throwing."

Huck takes a little step back when Jett hops the ledge, unsure of what's happening, but his eyes stay locked on Jett, who puts the ball back in his hand. He stares at the ball for a moment and then looks back at Jett. "I fucked up. I'm sorry." He looks back at the jugs. After another moment, he whips the ball as hard as he can.

It hits the backdrop, narrowly missing the jugs.

"REALLY?!?!?" he exclaims with a huff.

Jett seems to acknowledge that apology by looking at Huck and nodding; he accepts it. Now is not the moment to explain he's no saint either and he could have been a little more open. Right now is the time for acceptance.

And laughter.

Jett laughs at the missed toss and the frustration that comes from Huck, not in a mocking way but in a sort of 'yeah I've been there' kind of way. He takes one more ball in his hand to give to Huck, but at the same time stands behind Huck to sort of 'coach' him through the toss, putting his hand over Huck's to guide the throw, setting Huck's hips right, his arm back, shoulders right, staying with Huck until the follow through release.

The ball soars and slams into the three mini jugs and sends them wobbling and spinning off the platform.

Jett steps back and then comes around so Huck can see his mouth, "Adjusted levels of difficulty." He winks before he bounds back over his booth and then gestures toward the row of medium sized prizes, "What will it be?"

There's a white mouse with a Santa Clause suit and hat on, there's a reindeer, there's a black and white cat with a Santa clause hat and a scarf, and there's a sort of steam punk Santa Clause to pick from.

Huck makes that throw, and then he laughs, bouncing on his feet a moment, tail finally relaxing into something celebratory. "HA!" He laughs, and looks at Jett in time to see him hopping back over. He steps up to the ledge, looking at the hanging prizes. "Oh, doodles." His lips curl up in thought as he looks between them all. "I'm leaning toward cat, but... I dunnow." Looking at Jett again, he asks, "Which one would you pick?"

Jett is pulling the cat down despite the doubts and sets it in front of Huck, "The cat. Cats are particular about the company they keep and it's on their terms. They come and go as they please but if they are treated well and fed, they'll come back for pets." He side glances and sees the Midway supervisor heading to the booths, "Hey. The boss is coming for shut down. I'll be a while cashing out and closing out." He pushes the plushie toward Huck, "I'll be at least an hour yet, so you know, you don't have to wait around."

Huck takes the cat and inspects it. "I'll get out of your hair, then." He offers a smile to Jett, and then gives the plush a little hug, nodding with a laugh, "Flyons do the same thing."