(from here}

Jay opens the door of his room for Emcee. It's as messy as usual with a set of large padded pells in one corner, set close together. Jay's clearly been practising close quarters combat. He dumps his armoured jacket over the back of a chair, sitting the helmet on a shelf.

There's also a rack of swords that wasn't there before.

"Come in, make yourself at home." Jay grins and sits down to take his boots off.

[From here]

Jay opens the door into a hotel room. And a rather expensive one at that. With a spectacular view of the city at night, all lights and sprawl. Jay chuckles. "Okay, so it might have to be dinner. I forgot it was night when I left here."

He tosses his bag on the bed and picks up a leather jacket. "Shall we?"

[From here]

Jay leads Eric outside into the dark of the garden. He still smells of clean sweat and healthy human male. He shreds his jacket and nods towards a bench. "From the wrist okay with you? I know you prefer the throat but I can understand if that's too intimate for you."

{from here}

There's a little grove, close enough to hear the party but private enough to not be heard. There' might already be a blanket spread out and waiting.

Jay pulls Emcee into the grove, pushing Emcee gently against a tree (can't damage those wings) and goes to his knees in front of him.

{from here}

Jay's room is large but simple. A big bed in one corner, a couch and TV in another. The rest of the room is workbenches and lockers except for a small kitchenette. The benches are covered in blueprints, sketches and tools. Small projects are set up on one side - a production line of small electrical components. There are a couple of closed doors off it, leading to other rooms.

Not that Jonathan will get much of a chance to look. Jay pushes him gently against the door and kisses him almost as soon as they're through it.

{from here}

Jay's room hasn't changed much. Even if it is a little tidier than usual. Blame it on the fact he hasn't been around much lately. Workbenches, gear lockers, couches, TV, bed. The bar has kindly added a private gym with some serious equipment in a room off to one side.

He reaches under a bench and clears out a couple of cardboard boxes for Rocky to play in. He finds a small greenish ovaloid hiding under one. "I thought you lot had grown out of camping in here?" He blows on the thing and it lights up, glittering like a giggle in lights. "Make yourself useful and keep an eye on the cat please? His name is Rocky."

The thing squeaks a sound almost like Rocky and buzzes over to investigate the cat.

Jay chuckles and unpacks the picnic, looking for his corkscrew. "That's a Hive Drone. In fact, that's one of the juveniles - George. He'll keep Rocky company." He gestures to the couch, "Make yourself at home."

{From here}

Jay's room is very tidy, everything packed down and locked up. Apart from the suit hanging on a stand and the rack of guns set up and waiting.

Jay nods, welcoming Sherral in as he add the holster to the rack.

Jay threw himself into the corner of the cell, pressing his back against the walls to make himself as secure as possible. Walls at his back meant no attack from behind, only in front and above. He knew, somewhere deep down that he was safe, that nothing could get at him inside the Baby but the rest of his mind was lost to the flood of Ivy’s pollen and Crane’s fear serum.

The nightmares started crowding in on him almost soon as the needle had touched his neck but he’d pushed them down, pushed them back for as long as he could. Every meditation technique, every scrap of self-control, every ounce of waning strength had got him here but now there was nothing left. No reserve.

The drug sped up his heart, sending the rush of fear and adrenaline through his whole mind. The images flashed and overlapped but not just images, the fear pervaded his senses, making everything realer than real.
( Follow... )

 From here

Jay opens the door into a quiet back alley that could belong to any city - the lingering scent of garbage and the miss-matched colours where graffiti has been washed off or painted over. In the mid-afternoon chill of early spring, he takes Emcee's hand and leads him out into the street, pocketing the key. The sunlight is thin but warm and picks out the green swell of buds in the branches. The tree lined avenue is quiet this time of day. Not lacking in people but without rush, a lazy Saturday afternoon.