Raven's Will

42. Old Fartface doesn't stand a chance

As it turned out, Raven's underground city even had a kitchen. Jett had been quite impressed, despite the fact that it was extremely lacking compared to Troit's cafeterias. Not that he was in any position to complain - when one had an empty belly, food was food no matter what facility it was prepared in.

He currently had a tin mug filled with hot broth in one hand, and a brick, er, some kind of bread in the other. The bread was very dense and rather flavorless, but when soaked in the broth, it became a lot more palatable.

"How is it?" A young woman came to his table, uncertainty all over her face. She wrung her hands together, then seemed to realize what she was doing because she stopped the nervous motion, instead awkwardly wiping her hands on her filthy apron.

"S'good," Jett told her around a mouthful of bread. He chewed and chewed and chewed some more. His jaw ached from the effort, so he paused to take a sip of hot broth.

Her face fell. "It's awful, isn't it?"

He shook his head and swallowed, though it took some effort because it wasn't quite chewed all the way through. His jaw needed the break. "It's not bad," he said. "It's much better than mush."

"Mush?" She looked appalled.

"Toe jam mush," Jett nodded, then shuddered at the memory of it. Yeah, Troit might have had nicer cafeterias but their food was horrendous. "I'd rather eat this any day of the week. Thanks, Ava."

She stared at him. Then she lifted a hand to her mouth and giggled softly. He smiled at her, glad to have made her laugh. He'd met her a few days ago when Raven introduced them. As the granddaughter of one of the Troit Elders, she was essentially Raven's hostage.

But she didn't act like it, and Raven didn't really treat her like one either. In fact, Ava worked hard, lending a hand wherever she could, though her latest stint had her helping in the kitchen. She wasn't the greatest of cooks, but she wasn't the worst either.

"You're so different," she murmured. Her eyes followed his movements as he sipped the broth then dunked the bread into it again.

He gnawed off another piece, and with a mouthful of bread, asked, "Differen'? Wha' ya mee?"

Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she managed to hold back a laugh. "From Mr. Black, I mean. He said you were his little brother, but it's hard to see the resemblance."

Jett paused mid-bite, a scowl darkening his face. "Of coursh we're the 'ame. We're 'oth f'yersh!"

Somehow Ava understand the garbled words that came out of his mouth. She smiled, shaking her head. "Yes, you're both flyers. But you... you're so bright and kind, while Mr. Black feels... sad at times. It's like he has this dark goal he's marching towards, and it's the only thing keeping him going at times."

His first instinct was to dispute this, because Raven was his big brother and everything about him was awesome and could she even think something so depressing about him? He hurriedly swallowed his half-chewed food so he could answer her properly, but before he could even open his mouth, she went on.

"But he's changed, you know. Ever since he brought you back here, he's been a little less gloomy." She giggled, and reached out to poke him in the forehead. "Don't make that face, or you'll start looking like him!"

Jett swatted her hand away, though he couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, I don't think so. Who wants to wear a black eye? I'm too smart to get into fights with bricks."

A shadow fell over him right at that moment. Somehow Jett knew who it was without even looking up. This guy had the best – or worst – kind of timing.