It's a slow day. They'd just finished some minor errand, locating a lost 
heirloom, and the client had gone off happy and satisfied and, Jake hoped, ready 
to spread news of their business by word of mouth. Another job soon would be 
nice, but she's not overly expecting it, nor fretting at the reins for it; today, 
she's happy enough to sit behind her desk, catching up on the news and having 
herself a cigarette.

      "Hey, sis, whatcha lookin' at?" Glen asks, as he walks up behind Jake, 
bending over to dangle his arms over her shoulders, chin resting on the top of 
her head. Clothes sweaty and dirty as usual after an errand(just how DID the man 
manage to make himself so messy on a simple location of a heirloom?), the tall 
man smirks, as he pulls Jake backwards on the roller chair. "C'mon, quit with 
being so studious. Take a load off your feet. Wanna join me in a shower? C'mon, 
it's been years since we've showered together."

     "You have a sick and twisted mind, Glen, and I don't know where it came 
from, because I definitely didn't get it," Jake says absently, speaking with the 
cigarette bobbing from the corner of her lips. "Also, you stink. Go take a cold 
shower." Reaching to turn the page, she makes a big show of it, so that her left 
elbow jabs up and back, aiming to hit him in the shoulder and get him away. Only 
then does she turn slightly to peer at him with one brow raised. "...when the 
fuck did we ever shower together, anyway?"

      "Hey, you've got it too, you just don't know how to go with the flow, 
anyway," Glen comments, reaching down to snatch the cigarette off Jake's lips so 
he can take a puff before replacing it. The sharp jab to the shoulder interrupts 
the inhalation, however, causing an explosive puff of smoke, almost right into 
Jake's face. "... nnnghh..." Taking a deep breath, Glen draws more smoke through 
the cigarette, before offering it back to Jake. "... when you were six or seven, 
I think. You had a lot less hair back then. Unless you've been shaving." Taking 
a step back, he scratches at his cheek. "Ah well. Off to the showers I go. 
You're gonna get dinner, yeah?"

     There's a sputter as she finds the cigarette suddenly gone, which only 
gives her more reason to jab back at him--though even that backfires a little 
bit as she gets smoke exhaled into her face. Eyes tearing up at the sudden 
assault of grit, she simply waves the worst of the smoke away with one hand 
before snatching it back with a soft grumble and taking another drag on it. For 
a moment her eyes drift down to the newspaper, before he speaks again and she 
gives up on the idea of reading in peace. "Eh. Shaving's a hassle, the hair 
grows back too fast. Waxing's the way to go, at least when I've got the cash for 
it." Which isn't always the case. Flipping the newspaper closed and tossing it 
on the desk, she stands up and stretches slightly before tilting her head to one 
side and the other, working out kinks. "I might as well. Luke was supposed to do 
it, but he called and said he'd gotten into something and wouldn't be back 
tonight. Was real vague about it too." She snorts and reaches into a drawer to 
take her keys. "Subs good with you?"

"I don't know why you don't just buy some candles and use the wax instead," Glen 
comments, as he starts pulling off his jacket, and then his shirt, apparently 
about to undress on his way towards the bathroom. "Luke's gotten into something, 
eh? Hopefully it's a girl this time." As he unfastens his belt, he comments, 
"Sure. I'll have a meatball sub." And then the bathroom door closes, mercifully, 
before the rest of the stripping commences.

     "Too much hassle. And candle-wax isn't the same sort as used in waxing 
processes, though I guess waxing is waxing in the end. But if I can't get waxed, 
that's what Nair's for," Jake declaims, which is probably more than he really 
wanted to know about waxing. ... unless he already knows it from personal 
experience, which is...actually quite possible. The possibility that Luke 
might've gotten into a girl is met with an outright laugh. "I don't know if he 
even knows what his pecker is for, yo." She doesn't seem terribly fazed by the 
stripping, but then again, she's also studiously not looking at him--apparently 
familiar with this habit.



      There is no response to Jake's commentary on Luke's pecker. Nor is there a 
response thirty minutes later, after Glen steps out, dripping wet and naked. 
Modesty? What, you're kidding, right?

      "Hey, sis, where's the towels?" Glen asks, wet footprints left in his wake 
as he wanders around, opening closet doors, and fishing around, before trodding 
over to peer at whatever Jake might be looking at.



     Nor is there a response on her part, thirty minutes later--for good reason, 
as she's still out. What. They don't have a car, so she has to walk or take 
public transport, neither of which are particularly swift methods of transport.
     Unfortunately, the first sight she sees when she gets home is her brother 
in his naked nonglory. Which she immediately reacts to with a "For fuck's sake, 
Glen, get some clothes on before I kick you out dressed like that so the world 
can laugh at your tiny dick." Shielding her eyes, she gropes to the side, hand 
sliding along the wall, the side of the stove, and finally the kitchen towel, 
hung over the oven handle. That, she throws at him, before digging into the bag 
and throwing the meatball sub at him, too. "Towels are in the closet there." She 
points toward the one door he somehow mysteriously managed to miss, rolling her 
eyes, and pads over to the kitchen to drop the paper bag on the Formica table.



      "Man, sis, if you think _this_ is tiny, you've either fucked some really 
well-hung guys, or you've been playing in the horse stables again," Glen says, 
unperturbed, as he catches the kitchen towel, and then the meatball sub. Towel 
in one hand, sub in the other, the taller sibling drops the food on the other 
table as he begins to wipe himself down, before tossing the towel back into the 
kitchen, aimed oh perfectly casually at Jake, and heading back to his own room.

      Moments later, clad in a pair of jeans and a white tank shirt, Glen 
returns, plucking the meatball sub off the table, and heading over to join his 
sister.



     Jake just smirks, cocking an eyebrow at him, before returning lazily, "Hey, 
stop projecting your own actions onto me, 'kay?" Pulling out the other sub for 
herself, she tosses the empty bag toward the trash can, and turns around to bat 
the towel away back toward Glen with the sub in her other hand. Then she turns 
back to the fridge and opens it up to get a pair of Yuenglings, one of which she 
opens for herself before plopping down in a chair.



      "Me and horses? Can't stand the beasts, you know that." With a grimace, as 
he sidesteps the towel, and leaves it lying where it falls, Glen takes a seat 
across from his sister, reaching to swipe the already opened bottle of Yuengling. 
"Thanks," he says, already placing his lips on the mouth and running his tongue 
over it quickly before she can swipe it back, before plopping it down on the 
table, and digging into his sub.



     "Why? You compare yourself to one often enough," Jake says dryly, tilting 
her chair back slightly and balancing on the hind two legs. Which means her 
hands are out of reach of her bottle of Yuengling as Glen grabs for it and 
thoroughly, messily marks it.
     She stares. Then asks, "... want to do anything more to it? Piss a circle 
around it, maybe? Rub it in your crotch?"
     Still glaring at him, she tilts forward, the legs slamming into the ground, 
and reaches for the unopened bottle to open it and take a quick suck. Although 
all things considered, that might not stop him--but he has his own already, 
dammit.



      Taking a large mouthful of meatball sub, Glen looks up at his sister with 
sauce-stained lips. "What you talking about?" he mumbles with his mouth full, 
showing just how well he chews his food. Which is to say, not that well at all. 
"Never compared myself to a horse. Now comparing you to the rear end of one..."

      Reaching for the beer bottle, he swigs it, smirks at his sister, and lifts 
it in a salute. Mouth now empty, he articulates himself quite clearly, "Nah. 
Just reminding you that this is my bottle. You're welcome to take that bottle 
and stick it in your own crotch, though." He eyes his sister, and then rolls his 
eyes. "Might be the most action you'll have, unless you intend to show Luke what 
to do with HIS pecker..."



Luke's coming home a little earlier than he'd anticipated, having been able to 
finish up pretty quickly. Unlocking the front door and letting himself in, he 
shuts it behind him quietly: shedding his jacket and tossing it aimlessly in the 
direction of the coathanger. He drops the keys on his desk as he passes, running 
a hand through his hair and thinking wistfully of bed. The idea of collapsing 
immediately is terribly appealing, but he kind of wants a drink beforehand. 
Which is why he detours to the kitchen, appearing in the doorway just in time to 
catch the tail end of a choice bit of conversation.

"......"

He's tired, he's thirsty, and he's more than a little cranky; which is why the 
expression on his face is so severely unamused. He just stands there in the 
doorway a moment, one hand braced on either side of the doorframe, before he 
even bothers to grace this with a response. "You know what? Just carry on," he 
snips with a strained, sardonic smile, before he backs up and starts to turn 
away.

It's at that point that the bottles catch his eye. He pauses in the process of 
walking off, his back turned towards the two others, and is quiet a moment. Then 
he shoots a glance over his shoulder, a brow quirking at the beer. "...We got 
any more of those lying around?"



     Eyeing him for a moment, Jake sighs, one hand rising to press her 
fingertips on the bridge of her nose. "Four nights ago. You went out partying, 
came back, stopped in the doorway, said, 'I am a fucking /stallion/' with the 
biggest shit-eating grin on your face, then passed out. Sound familiar?"
     By the time Glen makes his next suggestion, she's unwrapped her sub and bit 
down on it, so her mouth is a too full to provide an adequate response--so she 
gives him a nonverbal, but equivalent response, flipping him the finger.
     Which is about the point when Luke walks in. Irony has a wonderful sense of 
timing.
     Finally swallowing down the bite, Jake says a little more articulately, 
"Fuck you. I could get some any day, but unlike some people I actually care how 
many diseases I catch." Without missing a beat, she switches over to, "Done 
already? Thought you said you wouldn't be back tonight." Tilting her chair back 
again, she reaches behind herself to open the fridge and grab another bottle, 
which she tosses toward him. Up to him if he turns around in time to catch it.



      "No, but that sounds right," Glen remarks with a grin, as he swigs from 
the bottle again, before taking another bite out of his sub. Waving the sub 
around as though it were a baton ready to punctuate his song, he adds, "Might 
want to introduce that finger to Luke, then, if you're gonna be... oh hey, Luke! 
Welcome back! So, how was she?" Glen asks. A moment later, he clarifies, "You 
know, the girl you were tracking down?" Actually, they had no clue what Luke was 
doing, but Glen rather liked the idea that Luke had gotten into one of the women, 
really.

      His sister's tilting back reminds him that, yes, he was picking on his 
sister this moment, and with a grin, he lifts a foot up, and assists her in the 
tilting back of her chair... about a moment too late for it to do her any good, 
and just at the right time to do some ... interesting things.



To his credit, Luke catches the bottle without a hitch; he'd turned around the 
minute Jake opened the fridge, expecting something to come flying at him as soon 
as she got ahold of it. "Well, I /thought/ I wouldn't be, but things went pretty 
smooth," he replies, meandering over to the counter so he can pop the bottle's 
top off on its edge. "I'm not complaining."

Deftly ignoring Glen's commentary on what Jake ought to do with her finger, he 
simply leans back against the counter and takes a drink in lieu of saying 
anything: at least, until he's more directly addressed. "...You don't have a 
clue what I was doing," he assesses coolly from Glen's words, setting the bottle 
decisively down on the countertop to conclude his sentence. But he doesn't 
actually offer to clarify about what he /was/ doing; and the sudden tip of 
Jake's chair distracts him from that pretty well anyhow. Starting forward, he's 
fully ready to catch her should she be unable to catch herself.



     Snorting, but unsurprised by Glen's ego, Jake moves to close the fridge 
door, picks up her own bottle, and raises a brow at Luke. "What was it, then? 
You were awfully mysterious on the phone." It's about this point that her 
brother decides that he's not done tormenting her and 'helps' her tilt her chair 
back. There's a brief yelp, a clatter and the sound of a bottle dropping--
     --and Jake stands next to the table, while the chair lies on its back. 
There'd been just enough time for her to sense the excessive tilt of the chair, 
pinwheel forward, and stand as it went down.
     Her sub is completely ruined, however, squashed beneath her right shoe. Not 
to mention her /clothes./ Falling beer without a bottle does tend to spill--and 
it splashed her liberally with dark golden foamy beer. Lifting her right foot 
with a sucking sound, Jake looks down at it, then at her brother, and down at 
the shoe again before she leans down, removes her shoe, and moves to squash it 
in Glen's face, sub and all.
     Regardless of her success, she turns around, picks up and rights the chair 
and the fallen bottle, and walks off with great, silent dignity... ... inasmuch 
as one can, when one is squelching with every step and smells like an alcoholic.
     She'll be off to the shower now, thanks.



      "Well, then what were you doing, if you weren't balls deep into some 
woman?" Glen asks, shifting his feet back underneath him as Jake's chair lands 
with a thud against the linoleum floor.

      Fortunately, at least, his sister was swift enough, as he knew she would 
be, to leap off the chair and stand up. And she approaches with squished sub, 
causing Glen to cover up his sub protectively with both hands, haunching over 
it... which leaves his face open to being rubbed with squished sub and shoe, 
part of it going nearly into his mouth, before the sub drops off and lands on 
the table, followed by a shoe.

      And as Jake stalks off, Glen lifts his hand to his face, rubs it 
thoughtfully, before licking his finger, and chewing thoughtfully. "Pretty good 
sub. I'll have to order that one next time."

      And then feeling incredulous eyes on him, he lifts his eyes up to Luke's, 
and flashes a grin. "Oh hey, Luke. Good subs. Want some?" He pulls up the 
remaints of the sub and offers him what's left of Jake's.



Luke looks his usual dour self, even as this entire fiasco transpires before his 
eyes. He barely even cracks a smile at Jake's ridiculous appearance post-chair-
tipping; he simply looks as unamused as ever. About the only reaction he gives 
is a halfway-disapproving scoff. Leave it to him to have little to no tolerance 
for this kind of wasteful nonsense. "I'll tell you when I'm not asleep on my 
feet," he retorts. "And when you look like you'd actually be listening," he adds 
deprecatingly: a flicker of a glance at Glen showing exactly who he's talking 
about.

He glances after Jake as she leaves, looking back in time to find himself 
staring down a mess of... crap being proffered to him. A disgusted grimace 
crosses Luke's face at the sight, and he pushes away from the counter: snagging 
the bottle in the process. "...You know, I think I'm just gonna take myself 
elsewhere," he replies shortly, and moves to do just that: escaping while he can, 
if you will.



With a shake of his head, Glen plops the remaints of Jake's sub down on the 
wrapping paper. Looking back up as Luke moves away, about to take himself 
elsewhere. Reaching out with a greasy hand, he slaps Luke's butt. "Okay, man. 
Good luck. When it comes to talking about you being balls deep in some woman? 
I'm always ready to listen, pal... if you ever need help with technique, let 
your pal know, yeah?"

      And then reaching down and picking up his own sub with both hands, Glen 
bites down and chews happily, without a care in the world, save for this nasty 
bit of gristle in his meatball caught in his teeth. Reaching up, he picks off 
the gristle with his little fingernail, and then flicks it off onto the ground 
and continues eating happily.