01-31-2025, 06:08 PM
Jude does have a legal last name: West. Jude and Juliet West. Those birth certificates place them in Delaware, but those are elaborate forgeries. The Kent General Hospital in Dover will not have any digitized records for Jude or his sister, but this could be written off as an administrative flub or data insecurity. Nevermind that Jude was never meant to have anything like a job, or destined to sign a lease, open a credit card, or otherwise function as a member of society. He is a tool, a knife that belongs in its knife block when it is not being used to cut things. Jude has a last name, but that is a mere formality. He does not need a last name.
An apology will be much harder to win than twenty dollars. As far as Jude is concerned, Near needed to be taught a lesson, and the real concern is that the teaching was not retained because Near's brain is a sieve. In that case Jude simply endured pain and blood loss and ruined a dish towel, on top of the vindaloo, bringing the total to slightly above twenty dollars. Near cannot claim pain and suffering for his indignity, because that's the least he deserves.
"What if," Jude proposes insistently, "we talk about your twenty bucks outside?" The way he needles at it gives the impression that 'owing twenty bucks' is some kind of euphemism, either for drugs or sex. Probably the latter, because Jude looks as fresh-faced as always, very poreless makeup commercial, maybe it's inhuman and maybe it's Maybelline—not the face of a junkie needing his fix.
Sex then, or something related. Jude lays his palm on his ID and drags it back towards him as he pins Near with his stare. Jude calculates he has, oh, maybe ten minutes to shove his hand into the briar patch that is a conversation with Near before the duties of The Door call. He will need to be very direct and hope for the best.
An apology will be much harder to win than twenty dollars. As far as Jude is concerned, Near needed to be taught a lesson, and the real concern is that the teaching was not retained because Near's brain is a sieve. In that case Jude simply endured pain and blood loss and ruined a dish towel, on top of the vindaloo, bringing the total to slightly above twenty dollars. Near cannot claim pain and suffering for his indignity, because that's the least he deserves.
"What if," Jude proposes insistently, "we talk about your twenty bucks outside?" The way he needles at it gives the impression that 'owing twenty bucks' is some kind of euphemism, either for drugs or sex. Probably the latter, because Jude looks as fresh-faced as always, very poreless makeup commercial, maybe it's inhuman and maybe it's Maybelline—not the face of a junkie needing his fix.
Sex then, or something related. Jude lays his palm on his ID and drags it back towards him as he pins Near with his stare. Jude calculates he has, oh, maybe ten minutes to shove his hand into the briar patch that is a conversation with Near before the duties of The Door call. He will need to be very direct and hope for the best.