He hasn't been paying attention to anyone or anything except the woman in front of him. So when she says that, he glances over in confusion, quickly glancing back at Juliet.
"Well, I ain't with her." He finishes off the cup of punch, and when a new song starts to play, he steps a little closer, just trying to make it clear he has no interest in anyone else.
Juliet goes warm and feels a shiver snake its way down her spine at the same time he steps closer. Ducking her head as she smiles just a little, her eyes dart to the girl and find her pouting as she turns away.
Looking back up at him, she just laughs softly.
"It worked."
He's so close that she can smell his DHARMA aftershave and she clears her throat a little, not moving away. Not moving at all, really.
"You stay right here, I'll get it," he smiles, purposefully leaning in a little closer as he does. They've already successfully deterred the woman watching him, so there's really no need to keep going, but it doesn't occur to James to suddenly pull away. He finds he likes being close to her, able to see her eyes so vividly.
Again, when he moves away she feels bereft, as if a part of her was taken away. She doesn't understand it, she's never felt something like this, exactly.
When he returns, she nods at the backdoor.
"Wanna get out of here?"
Juliet doesn't want to be in this room with all of these people anymore, and outside under the stars sounds like a better idea.
"Lead the way," he tips his head to her with a smile. Once they're sitting down, he hands her a cup, sipping at his own. He has to pause for a moment, reaching out just to lightly tug at her top.
"An upgrade," he smirks back at her, sipping some more punch. She's fun when she's buzzed, looser in the tongue. Not out of control at all; but what he's realized is that when she's got a little bit of alcohol in her, the person she really is deep down comes out, the person who wasn't held captive for years, who had to condition herself to show nothing and feel nothing thanks to the Others. What he's seeing now is the real Juliet starting to slip through, and he just hopes maybe he can get her here eventually when she's sober, too.
"With your damn pretty blue eyes? Hell yeah it'll suit you."
It probably isn't healthy, he's probably onto something, trying to get her to be herself again without booze. And she'll work on it, as soon as she figures out who the hell she is now.
"You think my eyes are pretty?"
She has to tease him, just a little, and she takes a sip of her punch, gaze steady on him.
She doesn't know a lot about herself, and hearing him say that makes her warm. When she smiles, it's into her cup.
James thinks she's pretty.
It makes her smile again, maybe more than it should, but she doesn't care. "Well. Good thing the 70s is full of folk singers, then. Maybe one of the new recruits is an aspiring musician."
She's joking about it because it's easier. Because no, she didn't know her eyes were anything other than plain eyes.
"Long as he don't steal you away," James teases back. But he hopes it sinks in for her, that she's beautiful, that he thinks she is. He doesn't know a lot of things, but he knows she's never been treated right.
Why does he think she's beautiful? It's what she's trying to wrap her mind around, but it does feel good to know. To hear him say.
"Don't worry. He'd toss me back eventually." Probably. And somehow, that comes out in a light, teasing tone, even though the comment itself is rooted in exactly how she feels and how it's always gone.
Holding his cup with one hand, he scoots closer and bumps her shoulder lightly; it's a thing with him, apparently. A way to get closer without being too close.
"Ain't none of them deserved you, or-hell-anyone, for that matter. You don't think you deserve better than what you got, Juliet?"
Juliet bumps him back, but then she's quiet, thinking about his question. It shouldn't be a hard one, but she doesn't know what she deserves. What does she deserve for wishing Edmund's death? What does she deserve for promising and failing to fix nine women? What does she deserve for murdering someone who used to be a friend?
Swallowing, she blinks quickly, looking out at the dark and turns his question around on him.
She does get him, and in a show of solidarity, she tips her head and rests it against his shoulder, closing her eyes.
Juliet doesn't even have anything to say, she just wants to sit here with him, listening to the faint music coming from the rec center. After a while, she finishes her punch and murmurs quietly.
She doesn't appear to be in a hurry, but finally, she sighs softly and stands, reaching out for his hand to help him up.
There's a soft smile on her face, contentment written across her features, and she realizes this might be one of the only peaceful moments she's ever had on this island. And of the few she's had now, James was always with her.
He holds on to her hand for a moment longer than he really needs to, and then he lets go slowly, walking close to her as they head back to their little house.
"Who'd have figured I'd need to get stranded on a damn mystery island thirty years in the past to have my own house to settle in," he muses aloud, smirking but serious as well. "Maybe even some sorta respectable life."
"Yeah," she says quietly, just watching him, her eyes slowly moving over his face, trying to memorize for some reason. This is something she wants to remember, she thinks. This night.
"Yeah, I am, James. It wasn't me talking to Horace in there. That was all you."
He's never even just been hugged like this, and he kind of wishes time would flash again, but freeze. Right here in this moment. Whatever else is true, he knows she cares about him, and he never wants to let go of how good that feels.
He holds on to her tightly until she pulls back, but once they're inside, he reaches out for her wrist lightly.
"Hey. 'Fore you get to bed, I need to hear it. The way you've been treated all these years, all the worst kind of people trappin' you and makin' you feel less than. I need to know you get it, that you deserve better. Tell me."
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"Well, I ain't with her." He finishes off the cup of punch, and when a new song starts to play, he steps a little closer, just trying to make it clear he has no interest in anyone else.
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Looking back up at him, she just laughs softly.
"It worked."
He's so close that she can smell his DHARMA aftershave and she clears her throat a little, not moving away. Not moving at all, really.
"Want more punch?"
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When he returns, she nods at the backdoor.
"Wanna get out of here?"
Juliet doesn't want to be in this room with all of these people anymore, and outside under the stars sounds like a better idea.
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"This suits you."
More specifically, I like this.
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Maybe she is a little buzzed after all, but she likes it. Likes how she feels right now.
"The blue looks good on you, too. Goes with your eyes."
The blue and green combination is nice, especially that specifically soft green his are.
"Guess we'll have to see if blue jumpsuits suit me, too."
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"With your damn pretty blue eyes? Hell yeah it'll suit you."
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"You think my eyes are pretty?"
She has to tease him, just a little, and she takes a sip of her punch, gaze steady on him.
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Saying it like that means he can just barely skirt around saying he would write songs about her eyes if he were so inclined.
A guy could get lost in those eyes. This guy, specifically. He'd drown in them happily and thank her for it.
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James thinks she's pretty.
It makes her smile again, maybe more than it should, but she doesn't care. "Well. Good thing the 70s is full of folk singers, then. Maybe one of the new recruits is an aspiring musician."
She's joking about it because it's easier. Because no, she didn't know her eyes were anything other than plain eyes.
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"Don't worry. He'd toss me back eventually." Probably. And somehow, that comes out in a light, teasing tone, even though the comment itself is rooted in exactly how she feels and how it's always gone.
"You'd never even have a chance to miss me."
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"Ain't none of them deserved you, or-hell-anyone, for that matter. You don't think you deserve better than what you got, Juliet?"
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Swallowing, she blinks quickly, looking out at the dark and turns his question around on him.
They're the same, after all.
"Do you, about yourself?"
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"Ain't no easy answer for that. I know you get me."
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Juliet doesn't even have anything to say, she just wants to sit here with him, listening to the faint music coming from the rec center. After a while, she finishes her punch and murmurs quietly.
"Wanna go home?"
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Home. With her.
Though his only regret is having to move, and losing the warmth of her head on his shoulder.
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There's a soft smile on her face, contentment written across her features, and she realizes this might be one of the only peaceful moments she's ever had on this island. And of the few she's had now, James was always with her.
Or the reason for it.
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"Who'd have figured I'd need to get stranded on a damn mystery island thirty years in the past to have my own house to settle in," he muses aloud, smirking but serious as well. "Maybe even some sorta respectable life."
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"Well. How does it feel?" Instead of going directly inside with him, she stands on the porch, facing him now.
"You're part of something now, we all are, because you protected us. I'd say that was a great head start toward respectable, James."
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"You're gonna give me all that credit, Juliet?"
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"Yeah, I am, James. It wasn't me talking to Horace in there. That was all you."
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In return, he hopes that she might believe in herself because he does. It's a start, anyway.
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Once her arms wind around his shoulders, she squeezes gently. "I told you you're better than you give yourself credit for. Still true."
She pulls back, feels cold, and turns to open their door, flipping on the light as they go inside.
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He holds on to her tightly until she pulls back, but once they're inside, he reaches out for her wrist lightly.
"Hey. 'Fore you get to bed, I need to hear it. The way you've been treated all these years, all the worst kind of people trappin' you and makin' you feel less than. I need to know you get it, that you deserve better. Tell me."
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