Best Two-out-of-Three, Part 1

Posted on Sun Jul 27th, 2025 @ 11:09pm by Lieutenant JG Jacqueline Holder & Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Edited on on Sun Jul 27th, 2025 @ 11:12pm

1,947 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Character Backstories
Location: 17th Street, The Castro, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: October 11, 2381, 1640 Hours

They spilled out of the old theater like two little kids sneaking out of a matinee they hadn't paid for. Sunlight slanted across the sidewalk in long amber ribbons while roasted peanuts and sourdough from a nearby vendor wafted across the street.

Jean-Baptiste blinked into the brightness of the late afternoon, his eyes a little too slow to adjust after hours in the satiny dark. He felt the ghost of Cary Grant's effortless confidence still clinging to him--but standing next to Jacqueline, it all fell away. Next to her, he was just himself, stripped to the earnest core of wanting to orbit closer without tipping too far.

She looked alive in the fading light, the sun kissing her hair in coppery flares. Her eyes were still bright from the last onscreen twist they hadn't quite finished. They had decided, sometime during the second intermission, to skip The Philadelphia Story. JB hadn't pressed for a reason. The air between them was its own unfinished story.

As they took a few steps away from the theater, Jacqueline turned and happened to catch Jean-Baptist in one of these admiring gazes. She quickly looked away, first down toward the sidewalk, then scanning ahead, though she focused on nothing in particular. His attention made her self-conscious, worried about what he might see if he looked too close, afraid of what hers might give away if her own eyes dared to meet his gaze.

She skipped ahead a few steps, putting some distance between them, and spun around, walking backwards, now on her tiptoes, shuffling her feet to zig-zag her pattern as they walked, the dance of a person who doesn't keep still.

"So how did you get into old movies anyway?" Jacqueline’s smile was bright and curious, though her eyes were always moving never catching his for more than a microsecond before flitting away to something else.

He watched her skip ahead, watched the way her feet carried her as though she had a secret rhythm playing only for her. He smiled at her movements before catching up, his hands sliding into his pockets in an attempt to anchor the warmth rising up his neck.

Jacqueline's question threw him back across years and kilometers, to a different time.

"I was at Strasbourg," he started, his voice hitting a confessional cadence. "Lived in Krutenau. It was a cheap flat just off the Quai des Bateliers--drafty as hell. There were four of us crammed in there. One of my roommates, Mathéo--a history major--had an obsession with everything twentieth century. He knew every piece of dialogue from every film of that era. He'd drag us to this place called L'Étoile d'Alsace in Neustadt that used to be a church, so it had vaulted ceilings and wide open spaces. Every Thursday night was movie night there."

He paused, his gaze drifting up past her shoulder, picturing the converted church in his mind's eye once again.

"I never got as deep into it as Mathéo. I can't name every director or argue about camera angles, but..." He let out a small breath and a half-shrug. "There's just something about sitting quietly with a story that isn't imploring you to solve it. Movies are like a good book, but shorter. It's a nice escape." He grunted softly as a realization came to him. "That was the first movie I've seen in months. And the first time I've shared the experience with someone I--with... well, you."

JB found himself nearly Freudian-slipping the rest of the day away and made a mental note to maybe not speak so much. He looked at her then, squarely, his eyes steady and unguarded once more in the slanting sun.

"What would you like to do now?"

What would she like to do now?

She didn’t want this time with him to end, but she wasn't sure how to put it into words. She was scared to put it into words. The question he had posed left her momentarily paralyzed, even admitting to him that she wasn’t ready for the afternoon to end was a vulnerability she wasn’t prepared to face.

"You mean you aren't sick of me yet?" She laughed nervously, tried to keep her tone teasing and light.

JB let her tremulous laugh hang in the air as though it were a paper lantern floating just out of reach. He didn't chase it. He stood there a moment, hands in pockets, his gaze drifting down to a diagonal crack in the pavement where a solitary weed pushed through.

"I used to think if I kept it all light, kept the humour coming, people would stay close," he said, voice low and measured. "I figured if I never asked too much, if I never showed dents, nobody would bolt for the exit."

Jacqueline took a step back, startled by his words. Had she been so obvious.

He shifted a little, his thumb absently playing with the seam of his pocket.

"Turns out... that doesn't really work. You end up alone in a crowded room, and no one even knows they're leaving you behind."

He paused then, letting the words rest into the paper-thin space between them, not pressuring them forward.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze catching hers but not entirely pinning her there. It was a quiet invitation, gentle as a proffered hand.

"I'm not sick of you," he added, his voice almost a whisper, with a slight earnest smile. "I'm here. However you are. However you need to be."

"What you said sounds lonely," she said the words gently, with some empathy, but not acknowledging that she'd experienced the exact feelings he had voiced. "You don't feel lonely now?" She asked.

"Lonely? Not with you here," he said, returning his eyes to the ground. He suddenly looked up again with bright eyes and a smile, adding, "Besides, who could feel lonely with Cary Grant still echoing in their head?"

“Well hey, I guess I’m serving some purpose on this rock today,” she quipped, relaxing some after he shared his vulnerability. “And maybe one day I’ll get this fascination with Carey Grant.”

“I think that I don’t really feel like thinking too hard for the rest of the day,” Jacqueline stated pointedly, almost defiantly. “When I wanted to help my brother get his mind off things we used to go to the arcade. You any good at games?”

Jean-Baptiste’s face lit up like light that had just been illuminated. He barked out a short laugh that was warm and sharp, running a hand over the back of his neck as though smoothing down his elation.

“I love games,” he said with more than a dose of enthusiasm in his voice. He rocked forward slightly on his feet, as if already imagining the fun they might have. “But I wouldn’t say I’m good.”

“So I shouldn’t have any trouble beating you at skeeball then,” she goaded. “Unless this is all part of the hustle routine? You playing me?” She looked him over as if she were sizing him up for a boxing match.

JB tilted his head, noting the competitive spark under her softness. He looked her over in return, as though she might be stepping into the ring with gloves on.

“Hustle routine?” he echoed, feigning indignation. He flashed a mischievous grin. “So this is a proper duel, then. You should know, I’m an excellent skeeball player.”

“Alright then, let’s do this. I know a place near the Presido,” she replied a smug grin now painted on her face. “So what do I get when I win?”

Jean-Baptiste’s mouth opened in mock outrage. “When you win?” he repeated, relishing the tease like a piece of hard candy. “Not if?”

He tilted his head again–this time thinking it over. “If–when—you win,” he conceded, “I’ll share something about myself I’ve never told anybody before.”

Then he stepped closer, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. “But if, by some cosmic accident, I win,” he continued, his voice dropping just enough to draw her in, “then you have to tell me something true. Something you wouldn’t normally say out loud.” He let the words linger. The challenge was bright but gentle. He flashed the same boyish grin, hoping he could fluke his way into winning despite the lie about being an amazing skeeball player.

Jacqueline’s expression changed as she carefully considered his terms. “So, if you win you have to tell me something you’ve never told anyone else. But if I win, all I have to do is tell you something true that I wouldn’t normally say? That’s the deal?”

“That’s the deal,” he confirmed with a slow nod. His grin lingered, but beneath it sat something more sincere, something that wanted to lean forward and meet her halfway.

Jean-Baptiste met her eyes then, really gazed into them, letting the noise of the sidewalk and the streetcars fall away for a moment. He loved the spark in her, the nimble way she fenced with words, but behind it he could almost feel a wall. It was tall, careful, and built a long time before him. He didn’t flinch from it. Instead, he quietly vowed that one day, if she let him, he’d find the girl who lived just beyond the wall and sit with her there, in the world she kept hidden.

“Okay then. I accept your terms.” Jacqueline’s expression turned serious as she held out her right hand challenging him to make their terms official the old-fashioned way, with a handshake.

He looked down at her outstretched hand. Inside, he could feel a faint warmth blooming behind his ribs. He slipped his hand into hers, their fingers wrapping together in a gentle clasp that felt less than a wager and more like a small ceremony.

They shook once, firmly and softly, his thumb brushing the side of her knuckles before he released.

“Deal sealed,” he said softly, the corners of his mouth betraying a slight grin. For a second, he almost forgot about the game, the stakes, the lights around them. He was just aware of the shape of her hand as it fit into his, the pulse he felt beneath her skin, and the way his own hand seemed to warm hers.

Though their handshake was firm, there was something behind his touch that was gentle. The feeling of the soft way his thumb brushed against her skin lingered for a few moments after they had let go.

“We better get going then. Are we going for overall points, or best two out of three, what are you thinking? She asked as she gestured with her hand the direction they should walk.

JB stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for hers again too quickly, though every part of him wanted to experience that contact again.

"I think best two-of-three," he said, turning the option over in his head. "It gives me a chance to redeem myself just in case I choke the first match."

JB stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for hers again too quickly, though every part of him wanted to experience that contact again.

"I think best two-of-three," he said, turning the option over in his head. "It gives me a chance to redeem myself just in case I choke the first match."

~tbc~

RSS Feed