Hush boy, oh hush boy
don't say a word
throw on a jersey
no one gets hurt

@jesse - outfit

Dion needed help. Cyril wasn't saying that he needed help with work or studies or anything like that. What he meant was that stopping his treatment was a bad idea. At least, in Cyril's opinion. If he didn't like how his shrinks were helping him, then he should get new ones. Not quit everything in general. Then again, Cyril was studying psychology and knew that he himself needed treatment. Like Dion, he preferred to avoid any sort of introspection and just move on with life. When his brother stopped to think about his own actions and thoughts, he came to conclusions that he didn't like. That included accepting feelings that he didn't like. Which was basically all feelings in the human emotional spectrum. Cyril did much the same when he started to analyse how illogical his opinions about himself were. That understanding came back to him every time he spent time with Niles. His Niles. By now. It was... sad. Because he really liked Niles. Maybe -probably- more than that. Did Cyril's mentality to be Niles' without reservations? Yes, in a way. He trusted Niles. Emotionally, he was completely his. Physically, though... well, he'd not managed to convince himself to stop working at nights yet. It was just- his mom did it, his brother Addison did it. Cyril had been doing it for years. That was how things were, that was what he was. Trying to deny it was useless and Niles was mistaken if he thought that Cyril was worth something. Not that- not that Cyril would tell him that. He didn't want Niles to leave. He- everything was confusing when Cyril was alone. His mind spun in circles. It was best to be busy, or with his boyfriend.

He was plenty busy, of course. With his recent completion of his healer training, he now had his position in the Janus Thickey ward. Which he loved. That was where he wanted to be. Those people needed a gentle hand, someone to look after them. He liked being there, helping, chattering to people, helping them feel better. Of course, he wasn't a psychologist yet. He had one last year for that, then he would work permanently only at St. Mungo's. He would quit Sugarplum's too, of course. Now he had those three 'official' occupations. The hospital, Lufkin, and the shop. He didn't really need the money? Ad paid their rent, he had minimal expenses, and now he wasn't even spending anything on going out anyway. After all, he went out to the Bacchae where he didn't need to pay. Because of Di. Plus, he didn't go out for fun, mostly. Not unless he went with Astrid. With Niles, he preferred to stay at home. To get a bite to eat. To be just them, comfortably and sweetly. They had their own fun. Cyril took care of him, subtly. Especially on the days leading up to the moon. Not that Niles knew that Cyril knew. That was also an issue. He had no right to know. Dion had told him because- he didn't know why, he didn't understand why. He shouldn't have, but he did it anyway. It wouldn't mean anything, for Cyril to tell Niles that he knew. Niles had to tell him himself, gather the courage. Decide that he trusted Cyril that much.

Okay, no. The point was that he was keeping busy and the work he picked up at Dion's club helped with that. Of course, then Dion went and got himself another fighter and wanted Cyril to go... uhm, talk to him? Deliver healing salves and potions? On the house. Employee benefits? He wasn't exactly sure, but he'd gotten a bag with goodies and a note with an address and was asked to go there today and talk to him. So Cyril did. Between his classes in the afternoon and his night shift at the hospital. He'd have to just get a quick bite to eat somewhere after this because he wasn't sure he would have time to have dinner. Good thing he had his scrubs at the hospital, he still had to buy a backpack that matched this outfit.

After apparating to... Hosgsmeade, wow, he hadn't been here in years. Cool. Nice. Cozy. The house was cute too, he supposed. Cyril would always prefer the city, though. He went up to the front door and knocked.

'Cause you had a hole in your heart that the bags can't fill

Pain in your eyes that the cash can't heal
outfit

Things were going pretty good for being kind of shitty. Muggleborn registration still sucked, though not nearly as bad as it had before. He was happy to have a wand and some freedom but more so he was happy to have Truly. There had been so many times before he had left for Pyxis that he had been un-necessarily stupid just to come and see her. He had defied the odds and managed to do his sneaking unscathed but it was no secret that the odds were severely stacked against him. It had been the entire reason for his proclamation in the first place, the whole reason he finally outed himself one again. Sneaking to be with her, though risky, felt necessary and he needed her to know that. He needed her to know the way he felt and he needed to know if she felt the same. If she hadn't then he would have broke off their friendship right then and there. He was prepared to do that, though he knew it would hurt like hell. It would have hurt worse than anything they could have done to him at Kolna or in the mines, and he knew that. Still, he had told her how he felt because he simply couldn't go on not knowing. 

The fact that she had returned the feelings should have come to no surprise but it had. He was so used to being rejected, to not having anyone to actually give a shit about him, that he had expected her to come out to him that their entire friendship had been some elaborate ruse of some kind. OK, not really, but something in him had expected her to kick him out of her house. He wouldn't have blamed her, honestly. If she hadn't returned the feelings then it would have been quite awkward for him to have broke into her house at two in the morning as some sort of....weird romantic gesture? He didn't know what he was doing, OK? The boy had never known what it was like to be in a real relationship let alone know how to begin one! Still the entire ordeal had been such a Jesse thing to do and Truly knew damn well who he was at this point. After seven years of friendship she knew him all too well.

Her understanding of who he was had been sort of a saving grace when he returned home from his first night in the ring looking like he had been hit by the Knight Bus. She had given him the green flag to go and check it out, and by all rights she aught to have known that he wasn't going to be able to behave himself. Had he ever been one to behave? No. Never. Still she had seemed a little shocked by his appearance when he arrived back at their home in Hogsmeade though she hadn't been upset. More confused than anything. How had he gotten into the ring? Well, he could have blamed his friends but he knew full well it was all him. He had an itch that needed scratching and found the perfect post to scratch it on. The Bucchae was everything he didn't know he needed. A place to let of steam, a place to watch someone else bleed, and a source of income. 

It was also a source for pain, coincidentally. U-Jin had so kindly welcomed him to the underground world of fighting by beating the living shit out of him. It was fine, he had been expecting it in a way. As bad of an ass kicking it was that he received he had held his own. For as long as he could, that was. He hadn't been knocked out but the blood letting had been enough to call the fight. His prideful idiocy would have let him stay in the ring until they pronounced him dead, but luckily it wasn't up to him. It was up to the refs. U-Jin had given him a few salves to help with his healing and Truly had been a major help as well. He still bared the beginnings of a scar on his brow though it was nearly camouflaged by the piercing he had. His lip was taking its sweet time in healing but it would come along. It had only been a few days, he would heal yet. 

The fact that his assigned auror hadn't yet visited him had been another saving grace. He knew that if he was to keep fighting he would need to be able to find a better way of healing as to not raise any brows for impromptu visits from them. When he had heard the knock at the door his mind automatically jumped to that and he felt a bit nervous as he made his way to the door. He didn't want any trouble, not this soon after leaving Pyxis. When he opened the door what he found was not Zeke but.... "Who the fuck are you?" Jesse's one brow raised as he looked the boy? up and down. 

Cyril had been born in captivity. It was just as horrible as it sounded, really. His mother used to work the streets, she caught the attention of the wrong bloke who became a regular. Who then became the only. Then when she got pregnant, he took her away and locker her up. That was when Addison was born, his older brother. Two years later, so was Cyril. She managed to flee, somehow. Cyril was never clear on those details and she never actually wanted to share them anyway. It was just a part of life that they didn't talk about. When she got out she went back to doing what she'd always done. The only thing she could do. Cyril had never asked what got her into that business in the first place, he never questioned anything his mother did. Didn't question it when Ad followed her example and started taking up clients either. By the time he was sixteen he was doing it too. Just a few, just to get a few extra bucks, a few extra pretty things. He didn't work like his mom. She had casual clients that came and went, Cyril had regulars that he kept for several weeks at a time. It was, in a way, worse. It gave them time to get bored of him, to say and do many more bad things that a few fleeting hours in the night. He never truly realised how bad it was, with how normal it was to the three of them. Sure, he knew that some things were bad, he knew it, but that didn't mean that he tried to get away from it. That was how things were and this was what boys like him ended up doing. Normal, natural. Niles was an anomaly. Niles was sweet, though he looked like bad news. Niles was probably dangerous, Niles was always nervous about him at first and talked a mile a minute. Niles knew what he did and unlike Cyril, didn't think it made him less. Didn't try to make him stop, even though he didn't like it, and didn't leave him. Thought him as perfect as ever.

His blind, sweet man. Cyril's heart hurt every time he thought of him, but in a good way. He was the reason Cyril was thinking about quitting it so often now. He never even used to consider it. Though he hadn't been able to make himself go through with it yet, he did want to. Eventually. Soon. They both deserved it. At least it would make Cyril stop hating himself so much. Really, he should do it soon. Before Niles realised what a mistake he'd made in thinking Cyril was worth it and left him. For now, Niles saw the good things. Saw his pretty face and cute clothes. Saw his job as a healer and cashier at a sweet shop. Heard his giggles and his praise. How long before he focussed on the smell of other men on his skin? Niles was a werewolf, though he didn't know that Cyril knew. No matter how hard he scrubbed and cleaned, Niles would always catch a whiff of it on him. It hurt to think that with all his efforts of remaining untainted, Niles would see him for what he was anyway. It was better to think about something else. To stay distracted. Otherwise, he would end up wallowing in his misery. Could people fade away from bad emotions? Maybe they could. Just let their sorrow wear and tear at them until they vanished into thin air. Sometimes he thought that was about to happen to him. When his skin felt too tight and his mind as fragile as thin glass.

"I'm Cyril. Stop gaping and let me in." Rolling his eyes, Cyril walked past Jesse and into the cottage. It was cute. Not his style, but cute. How did he know this was Jesse? Please, he wasn't blind. Even if Di's description of just find that one fucker that looks like he got trampled by a lawnmower wasn't particularly helpful. No, Cyril was the one that had to help, here. Besides, all this extra work for his half brother kept him distracted. That was always good. "Di sent me. I'm here to drop off some healing supplies and give you a check up." Yes, he was a licensed healer. Most people, when they first met him and found out he was around Di thought they were lovers. After all, Di didn't seem like the monogamous type and he definitely did like pretty boys. They were half brothers, something they'd only found out at the beginning of last year, even. Di was private enough that nobody knew almost anything about his private life. Let alone his family. Let alone this. As far as anyone knew, the filthy Thames just spit him out as a baby.

'CAUSE YOU HAD A HOLE IN YOUR HEART THAT THE BAGS CAN'T FILL

PAIN IN YOUR EYES THAT THE CASH CAN'T HEAL

Pyxis had been nothing but a major waste of time for Jesse. He hadn't learned anything there that served any real purpose. He thought that maybe it would have been helpful if he had been assigned to any other profession but in the mines it was just wasted information. The whole thing felt like a waste. What had been the point of taking him from the mines simply to throw him right back in three months later? It hadn't been like he had learned a great deal of information either. Most of what he had learned were simple spells he had already known and charms he used to use all the time. It was nothing new, nothing noteworthy. It had, however, been interesting to hear the new spin the Death Eaters had placed on the History of Magic. He had nearly laughed aloud on his first day of class listening to the professor spit such bias versions of wizarding history. It was comical, really. But also quite sad. Sad because there were children, small children, who didn't know any better. They had been brainwashing an entire generation of muggleborns, hell they still were! There were still students in that pointless school, learning pointless things about magic awaiting their release into this pointless fucking world where they would do the exact same thing they had already been doing before hand! 

The whole thing had left a bitter taste in Jesse's mouth. He was more bitter about it than many of the others had been. They had been pleased with the accommodations. They had been an upgrade, after all. Jesse wasn't though. He didn't care about having a bed or heat or whatever they were trying to win over their affections with. He didn't care about any of the things they had to offer him because he knew they wanted him to. The Ministry wanted them to be grateful and appreciative. Oh Merlin, hot water now! Praise be to the Ministry of Magic! No, fuck that. Jesse wasn't going to be grateful or appreciative. If anything he was irritated and annoyed. A lot of that might have had to do with the fact that the damn school hadn't had any liquor and it definitely didn't have any cigarettes. In fact he wasn't irritated at the fact that there hadn't been any smokes. He wanted to try quitting, again, anyways. And so far he had done a decent enough job. So thank you, Pyxis, for helping to break that little habit. In any case, he had been irritable the majority of his time there. Especially once he found out about the disbandment of the Registration division of the Ministry.

Once word hit Pyxis about that the entire place had been in sort of an uproar. A chorus of happy whispers echoed in all three halls, but Jesse had kept his happy whispers to himself. He was glad to know that he could go home after graduation. He could go to his first and only home; the home he had with Truly. No one knew about his plans, aside, possibly, from some nosy guards who checked their incoming owls. He kept their relationship to himself and their plans. People had begun to notice his irritation in the weeks leading up to his graduation, too. All he wanted was to get the fuck out of there and he was bitter about every single day he spent in those three damn buildings. He was pissed off because he was missing so much. He was missing Truly's graduation, what would have been his own too if it hadn't been for the damn registration, he was missing the opportunity to be with her and to see her face. That had been the hardest part for him. He had never known school without her in it and not being able to see her between classes bothered him a lot more than he thought it would.

It wasn't any wonder, really, why he had jumped so willingly into the ring on Sunday night. He had bottled up a lot of rage, stuffed a lot of fury deep down and he was ready to let it loose. Once he had jumped into the ring everything disappeared and he finally felt like he could take a breath. That was until U-Jin knocked him in the ribs. Then he didn't feel like he could breathe much at all, but still...metaphorically, he was breathing dammit. Afterwards he had felt great, even somewhat friendly when U-Jin had approached him afterwards. He had been happy that it was him and not Dion because, given their track record, he figured his friendliness wouldn't have extended as far as it had with Jin. Still, he had been somewhat impressed with the actions of the Bucchae owner. He had been generous, something Jesse had never pegged him as being, and obviously he was generous enough to send....this boy over.

"Ooooook, come on in, I guess." Jesse's brows furrowed in confusion as the older boy entered the cottage. "I'm Jesse." His first thought was a bit remorseful as he finally considered the fact that this bloke might have actually been a friend of Truly's. Jesse hadn't been living with her long, obviously, and didn't know the common visitors she had. He would probably recognize most, he assumed. But this guy was a stranger. At least to him. Once he spoke of being sent by Dion things made a bit more sense. But not really? "A check up? You some sort of doctor?" Jesse didn't think this kid looked like any sort of healer he had seen before, but what did he know really? In his mind Truly looked like a healer and that was....preeeeetty much the extend of healers he had ever met before. 

Cyril knew what he looked like. Firstly, he looked amazing. Secondly, he looked confusing. Unlike his brothers, who were strong and firm and had chiseled jaws and could grow facial hair, Cyril had always been more androgynous. Of course his face was still angular enough to be distinctly male, but the lipgloss and the short stature and the feminine clothes over a very neutral body had some people very confused. Hell, he'd seen a lot of women with a more masculine body than his. It didn't matter. It just confused people. A lot of them really hated what he looked like. They hated that he wore pink, that he wore shorts, that he liked painting his lips and doing his nails. He didn't see these things as for women, he just saw them as pretty and he liked being pretty. Case closed. It didn't mean that he didn't have a lot of confrontations with people because of it. He'd been pleasantly surprised with how protective Di had been over the whole thing. Maybe that wasn't the right word. Defensive might be better. He didn't like Cyril being out of his sight, when he was in questionable places like the Bacchae. As if Dion didn't know that those places weren't the most dangerous ones for him. Truly, that title had to be given to his dates' cars. Of course he made more money for going on one date than he did in a whole week's work at Sugarplum's, but it was just... well, he'd stopped complaining about a lot of things. The nights that came after just... At least he had a lot of savings this was?

The point was that boys like him had to put up with a lot of shit. It took a lot for him to be as secure in what he liked as he was. It came with a lot of very difficult moments. But the men who liked boys like him liked him just like this. He liked himself like this. Nothing else mattered, even if he wasn't everyone's cup of tea. He didn't want to be some common little thing. He was an acquired taste for most. Others, like Niles, liked him from the very beginning. It had been a pleasant surprise, to find someone so taken with him in Knockturn Alley. Usually those places were dangerous for everyone not conforming to some strict behavioural code. It was the same in the more questionable places of London. Like the parts of Birmingham where he'd grown up. The parts of London where they'd moved in his teenage years. Most likely, the parts of London where Jesse was from, according to Dion. He would've been nervous, if he weren't absolutely sure that his brother would never send him to someone who would think less of him for being as he was. Di didn't have dealings with that sort of people, he had a distinct hatred for bullshit.

"I know." He looked around the living room, setting down his backpack in a side table and starting to take out a lot of containers. Healing salves for cuts, for bruises, for burns. Anti-scarring creams, blister creams. Blood replenishing potions, bone repairing potions, headache cures. Chewing herbs for throat pains, for nausea, for dizziness. There was probably dozens of galleons' worth of healing supplies here, but he knew the people like Di considered this standard procedure. He had a lot of his own healing potions, but mainly for bruises and cuts. He knew that Niles probably had a lot more at home, too. "I'm a healer, Jesse. A fully licensed healer. We don't have all day, I have to do my night rounds in St Mungo's in like two hours." Turning around with an eyebrow raised, he gave the bloke a once over. Tall. Strong. Several years younger than him. The kind of dangerous, rough look that would've had Cyril seriously checking him out once. Not anymore. Nobody had eyes like Niles'. Nobody had a heart like Niles'. He did, however, have to give the bloke a check up, though. Di wanted him in peak fighting condition four nights a week. He'd given Cyril a schedule of his next couple of weeks' fights to hand over. He'd do so at some point, there was time for that. "Yeah, a check up, My brother wants to make sure Parkinson isn't working you too hard."

'CAUSE YOU HAD A HOLE IN YOUR HEART THAT THE BAGS CAN'T FILL

PAIN IN YOUR EYES THAT THE CASH CAN'T HEAL

There had only been one time in his entire life that he had been in the presence of a healer and even then it had been someone he had already knew. Truly had been doing her internship during the school year and, as fate would have it, she was assigned to his sorry ass. It had been one of the luckiest coincidences of his life but it also rendered him ignorant of what a true healer could do. Truly was still learning, yes, but he knew that she wasn't the type to deliver mediocre results. She had wanted to be a healer for as long as he could remember and she poured everything into it. It had been lucky for him that she was as skilled as she was, even given the fact that she was in training. The night after the fight she had quickly taken to healing him the best she could and he was grateful for it. Still, he bared the evidence of the fight in a few places. His brow, for one, and his lip for another. He had been mostly happy to see the results of his black eye faded quickly, something he had been most concerned with given the impending visit from his assigned auror.

He knew that he looked like hell, knew what Truly looked like the day he had reconnected with her at Saint Mungo's and what she wore to work every day since he had been home. She dressed professionally. When he had been at Saint Mungo's every healer he had seen dressed the same as she did, or in scrubs. That was why this bloke didn't exactly strike him as a healer at first. He wasn't exactly sure what he had strike him as, but healer wasn't it. Now, Jesse wasn't one to pass judgement. The way someone dressed, their sexuality, anything, really, was their business and theirs alone. He had once had a muggle mate Jackson who had dressed as a lass for Halloween only to never stop. A great many of their friends had cut all ties with the bloke, but not Jesse. The way he saw it Jackson was Jackson, dress or no dress. Still, one couldn't exactly blame him for looking a bit confused. Hell, he had looked confusingly at Jackson the day following Halloween when he had still been dressed in drag. Even more so when he had realized it wasn't even the same outfit! 

What had confused Jesse most about this Cyril individual had been, not only been the clothes, but his demeanor in general. Jesse had never had a home before; was this how everyone entered? He sort of entered Monica's flat in the same way, just coming in and all, but was this typical of strangers? He didn't think so. Either way, he was over it now. Cyril seemed to be a lets-get-down-to-business kind of chap, so he would oblige. If Dion needed him to have a check up, a check up he would have. 

Jesse watched as Cyril unloaded a multitude of containers from his bag, walking over to take a look. "Alright, then. What do you need from me? And I'm not doing any of this turn my head and cough business, just so we're clear." That bit had been a joke, though he wasn't sure if the bloke would get it. He wasn't sure exactly who Cyril was, where he came from, anything like that. Once Cyril had explained what Dion was making sure of he sort of huffed a laugh. "Is there anything Dion doesn't know?" He hadn't looked up from the containers, still giving them the once-over, though it could still be seen that he was quite amused at the whole ordeal. Dion knew where he lived, apparently, knew where he worked, who he worked for. The boy was an information obtaining prodigy. "So how does this all work?" Jesse absentmindedly picked up one of the salves the boy had brought, tossing it back in forth in his hands. "You going to be doing check-ups on me following all my fights from now on? Or is this a once in a while thing?" 

They can't hurt me anymore

There's nothing left to break of me

    Was his brother a great bloke? No, not even close. Dion liked money and he liked profit and he was allergic to anyone thinking anything good about him. He had this whole complex about nobody ever thinking he did anything for the good of it, that nobody was ever supposed to know that he actually gave a shit about some people, that there wasn't a single good bone in his body. Cyril wasn't exactly sure where that came from because unless he could sit Dion down and pick his brains, all he could do was guess from the few actions he slipped up on. Like the fact that he moved his mother -his abusive, alcoholic, unrepentant mother- from her shoebox apartment in Islington to a nice as hell place close to Covent Garden. Or maybe the fact that he'd gotten that Finn bloke a job at the Bacchae even knowing that if a Ministry inspection somehow showed up and spotted him working at the bar, there'd be a lot of issues. Or maybe the fact that as soon as Cyril asked him about Niles he'd made sure that Cyril knew about his boyfriend's lycanthropy. Now that... Cyril thought it wasn't a good thing to do, to tell him about it, because it was obviously personal and secret. He'd rather that Niles tell him about it but... well, he got where Dion was coming from. Misguided as it was, he'd tried to prepare Cyril for Niles not sticking around or disappearing. Di might not know how to be a nice person, but that didn't mean he didn't have tentatively decent actions sometimes. What could Cyril say? He did care about his little brother.
        This bloke? This Jesse? Cyril didn't know him. He seemed all right so far, he seemed nice enough. Cyril always liked to give people a chance and, admittedly, his version of 'not a good person' tended to be very lenient. Still, while he knew that Dion hired violent people and that this person got in a cage to fight others for money, he didn't seem like a bad person. Didn't seem violent or anything like that. Maybe he wasn't as polite as U-Jin but he was pleasant, which was enough for Cyril not to have any complaints about treating him. He would have anyway, but it was better to do things willingly than just out of duty, right? Right, yeah.
    "Hah, never heard that one before." Cyril snorted, looking over at him and then humming. He shrugged. "Strip, mate. Hope you're wearing clean underwear." Men tended to be filthy, and the few that weren't were far in between. Still, he had high hopes for this one. Couldn't be all that bad, he lived with a woman. Cyril could tell, the decoration of the little cottage was far beyond what any bloke like Jesse could think of. Subtle in colours and there was a vase with flowers on a side table. Cyril's apartment had a vase with flowers and all that, but Cyril was Cyril and he was unique. This was a female touch and that automatically meant that men weren't as gross as they usually were. By force if nothing else. "Not really. It's his business to know stuff and he's very good at it. Doesn't like surprises." That was the understatement of the year, it seemed to him. His brother was always in a bad mood and he didn't like anyone. Well, almost anyone, the people that he did like he would never admit to liking. He was like that. Still, point was that Dion made it his business to know everything he could. Not that he used it, mostly he just stored information until someone with money came around and asked for it. What he could use, though, he did. 
    Turning around to lean against the back of the couch, he raised an eyebrow and waited for Jesse to undress. "Not nearly as much as that. You'll be fighting around three times a week, I think. Three at most, two at least. I'll be there after every fight to patch you, only takes about ten minutes usually. With that, I can get a good idea of what state you're in. I'll be giving you a once over then, this is just... a business courtesy. Apparently. Besides, Di says, and I quote: I'm not gonna go talk to that Parkinson shithead to keep you in good shape, just don't fucking mouth off to your overseers." Cyril was proud of his Dion Voice, if he was being honest. He himself had Brummie accent, having grown up in Birmingham all his life. Di? Cockney as they came.

TAG: @ jesse ╳ Outfit: done ╳ Word Count: 778

ⒶⓀⒾ of Adoxography, Transit, and GS.

'CAUSE YOU HAD A HOLE IN YOUR HEART THAT THE BAGS CAN'T FILL

PAIN IN YOUR EYES THAT THE CASH CAN'T HEAL

This whole fighting thing was new to him, as were all the...business courtesies that came with it. In the streets you'd simply win your fight, or lose it, and walk off knowing you'd done your best. If there were bets you grabbed your cut and left, there were no deals to be made, no meetings to be had, such as this. Directly after the fight he had spoken with U-Jin and now this bloke was in his house asking him to strip? Jesse laughed a little, giving him a look. "Are you having me on, mate?" He couldn't recall ever having stripped for a stranger before, then again that didn't mean it wasn't so. There were a lot of memories that weren't real clear as a result of heavy drinking and he was sure that he probably had done so before but never in circumstances such as this. Cyril seemed to be waiting and he immediately got the impression that he wasn't joking. Well, fuck. Jesse let out a sigh, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head. "I'll not go down any further than the Eddie Grundies. Which are clean, by the way." He joked tossing his shirt to the side and starting at his pants.

One of the most torturous things about the mines was how very filthy he could get working them. Jesse was somewhat of a clean freak by nature and walking out of those mines covered in soot and dirt drove him absolutely insane. He had even spent hours of his time in the freezing showers of Kolna just trying to get clean every day. It was horrible but not as horrible as having that nasty shit all over him. He could only imagine what his lungs were beginning to look like. He'd likely be one of those victims that the mesothelioma commercials talked about in the future. That was his form of business for now, nothing at all like Dion's. He didn't think he'd be any good at the sort of thing Dion did. He didn't think he could bring himself to be nosy enough. Jesse always allowed vagueness to be OK by him, never prying too far into people's lives, never asking the big questions. Simple things often slipped passed him, like....had the bloke said Dion was his brother before? 

Fuck, he think he had said that. Odd, he didn't think they looked close enough to be siblings at all. Meh at the end did he really care? So long as the bloke did his check and left before/if his auror were to arrive. Or Truly, for that matter. It was almost laughable to think of what she would have to say to come home to him taking his pants off in front of some stranger. Still, it was a risk he supposed he had to make. Business courtesies, how fucking strange. "Three times a week? That's not so bad. Could probably do more but I'm sure the ol' twist wouldn't like that. Nor would my body," Jesse said as he picked his jeans up, sort of half folding them and tossing them on top of the shirt he'd already discarded. "So--" he said holding his arms out as a form of showing he was finished. "What now?"

He couldn't help but look amused at Cyril's impression of Dion. It sounded quite a lot like him, a good cockney impression that sounded a lot like his own. Truly tried to do impressions of his cockney accent but they were far less on par and funny as hell to watch. He rolled his eyes a bit though he was smirking. "Sounds like he's got quite a bit of faith in me, yeah? If I was such a loudmouth I'd have already been dead, he just happened to catch me on a good day." Jesse joked though he knew that their little encounter had been anything but a good day. He still didn't hold him with much more than distaste when he thought of Dion directly, though he knew he was appreciative of the opportunity he was being given. 

THEY CAN'T HURT ME ANYMORE

THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO BREAK OF ME

    Dion had a very particular way of doing business, Cyril knew. In a way, he reminded Cyril of their older brother Addison, but without all the charm and charisma that Ad had. There was a very natural explanation for that, of course. Ad had grown up in a business that sold. He had grown up with prostitutes and when he had been old enough, he'd started to sell himself too. He learned the importance of talking well and being charming whereas Dion had grown up with a very different sort of criminal activity. The youngest of the three had been raised with yelling and violence and fights every other hour. To him pretty, flowery words weren't conductive to better business relations. In fact, he distrusted anyone who hid what they meant behind swirls and bows. They both knew how to get what they wanted in the environment that was their own. Cyril was the odd one out of the three. He was the softer one, the pretty one, the smaller one. As a result, nobody really do he could do any harm... and that was true. Even if he had wanted to, the sharpest thing about him were his words and he rarely felt the need to use them. He was different because people saw him as weak while his brothers were stern and got things done and looked like manly men. Cyril got things done too, but the rest of those three things didn't really matter to him. He did whatever he wanted and if anyone had anything to say about it... well, he wasn't above telling his tough, mean brothers about it. Anything to avoid breaking a nail, really.
    With a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk, he watched Jesse start to undress. He couldn't help but laugh a bit at the joke. Well, most blokes would balk a bit more at having to strip in front of a clearly not straight stranger, good to know this bloke wasn't like that. "Indeed, he wouldn't. Something about you being too available making interest diminish or something like that." He waved a hand dismissively, pretending that vague explanation was the best he could do. Or all he understood. He knew exactly why Dion wasn't putting Jesse in every night and it had nothing to do with interest for the bloke's health. Di wasn't that nice. If Jesse fought every night, he would become an every day thing and that would make people lose interest. Losing interest meant less spectators, predictable bets, less profit. It was the basic theory of if there's more offer, there's less demand. Cyril hadn't studied business but he'd lived in a brothel once. Same principle, really. "Now, I give you a proper check up. Don't worry, I won't be touching too much. Your girlfriend has nothing to worry about." Yes, it was easy to see that he had one.No offence to Jesse's fashion sense, but he clearly wasn't the one to decorate this place. 
    He drew his wand, muttering a few diagnostic charms as he pressed the tip to a few specific points of Jesse's body. Nerve endings, over his organs, the joint between his neck and his skull, traced it over his spine. Really, nerve damage and badly healed bones were the dangers when it came to underground fighting. Also internal bleeding and punctured organs, but in such a case Jesse wouldn't still be alive. All he had to do with those was make sure they were working alright. He was a healthy person, though, in comparison to most fighters. Drinking, smoking, the usual damage, but nothing heavier. Then again, none of Di's fighters were like that. He kept only the strongest and the healthiest. He didn't want bad quality employees on his payroll. "Oh, don't take it so personally. Di has a very low opinion of the world and everyone in it. His cynicism is legendary, really." Not that Cyril blamed him. He was particularly fond of his little brother and he accepted that Di had been through a lot. Turned him into... well, into someone that didn't really believe in kindness. He'd grown up without it. At least Di was trying. He was doing his best to be better to the people that mattered. Clearly, Jesse wasn't one of them, but Cyril wasn't surprised. It was something very personal. "He's not really all that bad, my little brother. He just never really learned to be good, you know? Happens."

TAG: @ jesse ╳ Outfit: link ╳ Word count here

ⒶⓀⒾ of Adoxography, Transit, and GS.

'CAUSE YOU HAD A HOLE IN YOUR HEART

THAT THE BAGS CAN'T FILL
PAIN IN YOUR EYES THAT THE CASH CAN'T HEAL
@cyril | Outfit: Not a whole hell of a lot rn haha

Privacy was not something Jesse was accustomed to. He'd grown up in houses full of kids and strangers. Then he had went to school with even more kids and strangers, stuck in Gryffindor dorms filled with them. Kolna, well, that wasn't a hell of a lot better, was it? Eight of them packed like sardines in those tiny flats. Privacy, ha, what was that? The fact that this boy? man? healer was in his home asking him to strip. It damn near felt like another day at the office and he didn't mind. After all he'd stripped for a lot less valid reasons than a healers check-up in his lifetime and in the company of quite a few more. This should have been nothing. Still, it was strange not knowing what to expect. Typically if he was down to so few clothes there was a motive, one that he knew what to do at least, but in this moment he wasn't exactly sure. When was the last time he'd seen a healer? Oh, wait, never.

"Gotta play hard to get then, I see." Jesse nearly huffed a very short nasal laugh. His answer made sense, and Jesse supposed it was a little bit like picking up a girl at a bar. Don't want to come on too strong or you'll lose their interest straight away. Hardly come on to them at all, they'll think you were earnest when you asked if that stool was taken. Like you might go drag it off to be with your friends shooting darts in the corner somewhere. No, there was a specific amount for such a thing just as he supposed there was when it came to the matters Dion dealt with. And, unfortunately a specific amount of touching that came with a standard check up. Jesse nodded at Cyril's assurance, though it seemed more of a warning in his mind. Danger, lad, you're about to get the touchy feelies. Jesse shook his head with a smirk at his end statement. "I don't think she's worried at all. Doubt she even knows you're here," he said quirking one brow. Surely she'd find this whole story rather hilarious when he told her later. She'd wished she were here to see him getting the once over like a bull at an auction.

Jesse watched with intrigue as Cyril did his diagnostics. He figured he hadn't a thing to worry about; he had always been rather healthy. Then again, with all that he'd gone through over the last year he couldn't say that for certain anymore. He'd been tortured, hit with a pick axe, drunk himself into a stupor as often as he could. For all he knew he was dying and it wouldn't have surprised him one bit if Cyril had told him it was so. The healer circled him and all that Jesse could think was how absolutely silly a temporal thermometer was. As a child he'd thought it some amazing muggle contraption, but compared to what Cyril could accomplish in just a mater of minutes it was simply child's play. He paid close attention to what the healer was doing and when he spoke he gave a little shrug. "I guess that's something we've got in common. Though, I'm sure he'd a bit more cynical than me."

Once upon a time he could have probably matched Dion's cynicism, but it was just another thing Kolna had managed to beat out of him. He'd seen a lot of people do selfless things to help others between those broken down walls, himself included. Living in Kolna wasn't something he'd ever want to do again but there were ways in which it changed him that he would never take back. Jesse's thoughts were traveling back to that time just a few months ago. "Yeah," he replied absentmindedly. Suddenly his focus began to return and he paused a second before turning his attention back to Cyril. "Wait. Dion is your...little brother?" That seemed wrong. This bloke seemed so....so much smaller than Dion and younger even in some ways. Though, being a healer, that showed his age a bit. Still, Jesse was a bit baffled. "I didn't know he had a brother at all." Then again he didn't really know jack shit about his now manager.

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0