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Scars only hurt when I'm sober.

...Which type of scars are we talking?

[Weighing her age and deciding she didn't need to see what could give her nightmares.]
Tiger.

Bengal Tiger.

[She tilts her head, ink-dark eyes considering him a moment. Is he having her on? her expression asks.]

Bite marks or claw marks?

I didn't let her bite me. Claws were bad enough.

[Blink blink.] I would very much like to hear this story, actually.

[Phrases are short, clipped. More going on than he says. Details kept PG]

A man-eating tiger stalked and ate the children from a rural Indian village. I tracked the tiger and shot her. She retreated into an irrigation tunnel and I went in after her. Kali's kitten hugged me, kicked up her feet, and tried to disembowel me.

[At his throat is a leather thong one that he tugs out of his shirt. In the palm of his hand lies a carved tooth as long as his palm]

[Pandora frowns slightly, inspecting the tooth. She doesn't reach out to touch it, however. If anything, she's very self-contained, and nearly covered from chin to toe.

But she gets the idea that this is the trimmed down version. Perhaps the long version was too painful.]

And alcohol alleviates the lingering symptoms?

[Chuckled.]

No, it helps me to not care.

[Not about that or much of anything else.]

That does seem to be the most prominent offer of intoxication. [It's said with an overly solemn air.]

Yes.

Trouble is, boss wants me dry, or at least dry when on the job.

There's your conundrum. [It's not that she's not sympathetic. It's just that matter-of-fact is the default for her.]

[Nods. Jack's matter-of-fact himself about the whole thing. And it isn't as if he doesn't like his 'job'. Where else can he get that kind of excitement? other than darkest India, of course.]

What will you do, then?

Find other coping methods and live with it. No other real choice, is there?

Not if you want to keep that job, I suppose. What other coping methods are there available to you?

Just me myself and I. Never been a pill popper. Never liked how they affected my aim.

Not as maladaptive as it sounded, then.

[Snorts, snickers, then laughs. It's a harsh sound, one that hasn't been let out recently, but the amusement lingers in the corner of his mouth after the sound ceases.]

Just stating the facts.

[The small smile is reflexive, but she's trying to read his response. She's not entirely sure what to make of it.]

Less maladative than continuing drinking and forgoing the work, perhaps?

A question, if I may. Do you read the dictionary for fun or is it something your parents make you do?

[Her tone doesn't change. She asks, very carefully,] Do you understand me?

Perfectly.

[Very sweetly, with a matching expression, she carefully enunciates.] Then shut the fuck up about my vocabulary.

[Jack laughs again.]

Now that, that is my kind of language.

[She rolls her eyes.] Of course it is.

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