@SupernaturalSyGuyIsTIred group
I need some assistance on reworking a scene from one of my many stories…. I want Devereux and Keen to sweat BEFORE Jason does.
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The door opened and two men entered after leaving Jason alone for what felt like hours, despite it being several minutes.
One of them, Jason noticed, was a familiar face. He didn’t recognize the other man though.
Great, not only do I have to deal with Jack, but now his dad as well! Jason thought to himself. He had sat himself down across from Clark and the stranger, who Jason could only assume was the major that Johnny had warned him about.
“Hello Jason, I’m Alex Devereux.” Alex said, introducing himself as he sat in the chair next to Keen, placing a briefcase down on the floor. He was a gruff looking man with small beady dark brown eyes, and buzz-cut brown hair. Wrinkles showed on the man’s face due to, Jason assumed, stress from his rank. The shape of his broad shoulders and muscular arms was only accentuated by what he was wearing.
“How’ve you been Jason?” Clark asks, wanting to make Jason as comfortable as possible before the actual interrogation can start.
“Alright, I guess. I’m not hurt or anything.” Jason responds.
“That’s nice to hear.” Clark notices the darkening crescents forming underneath Jason’s eyes. “Is everything alright at the shelter?” He inquires.
“I have a bed, a roof over my head, and I’m getting fed, so yeah, things are great.” Jason answers smugly.
“So Josephine’s treating you well?”
“She’s alright.” Jason says, turning in his chair to stretch his legs out, crossing them at his ankles, leaning back in his chair, making himself comfortable.
“Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“Not really,” Jason answers, scratching the back of his head. “It’s a bit to warm in my room at the shelter.”
“How’s school?”
Jason swiftly sat up straight. I know where this is going. “That wasn’t me. I didn’t start that fire, Mr. Keen!”
Clark places his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Actually, I was asking about your classes. Are you passing them?”
Jason squints his eyes, watching the father of his bully carefully. Alex Devereux notices that the sickly sweet smell of smoke permeates the air, seemingly radiating off of the young man sitting before him.
“Any problems at school that we should know about?” Major Devereux finally inquires.
“Actually, yeah, there is,” Jason snorts, “Jackson Keen’s been bullying me,” he retorts, looking Chief Keen directly in the eyes.
Clark shifts uncomfortably in his chair, making a mental-note that the major is jotting this down.
“Were you aware that your son was being a bully?’ Alex inquires of the chief.
“There were some… disciplinary measures taken,” he answers. “He’s been kicked off of the basketball team.”
Some good that’ll do, Jason thought skeptically. I wonder if…. Could Jack somehow be the cause of the fire? Other than the obvious, what would his other motives be for setting fire to the school? Questions race through his mind, his face slowly flushing crimson as miniscule droplets of sweat start to form on his brow.
“Would you like something to drink?” Clark asks, taking notice of the sweat forming on Jason’s skin.
Major Devereux bends down to pick up the briefcase. “Speaking of the school,” he pulls out several printouts of fire. “I hear that you like fire. Care to say why that is?”
Jason looks at the pictures, which Major Devereux spread out across the table. The bitter taste of ash creeps into Jason’s mouth, leaving a unpleasant flavor. Coughing, the smell emanates from his mouth, only perceptible to himself. He snorts, crossing his arms, interlacing them and clenches onto one of his biceps.
The Major pulls out more documents, briefly glances them over, reminding himself of the contents. “According to this you had several occurrences involving fire: burning a book and posters in elementary school; lighting fire to random objects; burning some houses down.”
Rivulets of sweat sprang to life on the men's foreheads. Clark stood to remove his jacket, placing it on the back of his chair. He wipes his hand across his face, clearing some of the offensive liquid. Sitting down, he loosens the constrictive, noose-like tie from his neck. Imperceptibly, a thin wisp of smoke rises from Jason's fist, which he had curled up to try to keep himself calm.
“Those were deemed accidental,” Jason responds in a slightly orotund voice. Seeing the pictures of random fires caused a sense of uneasiness, a serpentine knot forming in his stomach.