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The woman brushed past her with a glamorous smile, and V’s attention was drawn from the elaborate makeup adorning her face to the luxurious red velvet of her dress as it swirled with each step.
V turned back towards the tent. Seated at the table under its shade, Jackie was rinsing an assortment brushes. He glanced up, and V came up short.
She blinked.
The skull he wore was darker than any she’d seen so far; less colorful, but no less masterfully painted. The bleakness of it chilled her to the marrow, if mitigated by the warmth of behind his eyes.
“Am... I still tripping balls,” V asked outright, “or is everything all... festive?”
“Maybe both,” Jackie ventured with a smirk. “But you’re not seein’ things.”
“Oh.” V nodded thoughtfully. She sank down on the bench across from him and leaned into her arms folded loosely upon the table, entranced in how the makeup twisted his wry expression further, making it something fierce.
“What?” he asked, “You don’t like it?”
“I’m not sure,” she stated.
The smile turned wistful, softening his expression, and Jackie cut a hand in front of his face, all encompassing.
“It’s for my grandfather,” he explained. “Well, for both-... all of ‘em, and... everyone, but... I been thinkin’ of him.” Absently, he scratched the back of his neck. “Taught me a lot. More than my father ever did, that’s for sure. Tough old son of a gun. Made it up past sixty, even... I should be so lucky.”
He went quiet for a moment, then fixed his eye on V and his smile returned, full-force. “You’d’ve liked him I think.”
V tried to imagine someone like Jackie, but older and more grizzled.
Her eyebrows knit together, and she glanced down at the table, at a loss.
“I never knew my grandfather,” she realized out loud.
“...gone before your time, huh?”
“No.” She looked up at him. Jackie’s confusion may have mirrored hers, and V elaborated, “Maybe. I’m not sure. I... never knew... anything about him. No one ever talked about him, not that I can remember.” She worked it out, out loud, “There was my father, my grandmother and my mother... I never knew her side of the family, either, but I knew they were out there, somewhere.”
V shook her head. Strange, now that she thought about it. “Total mystery.”
“Could ask, you know,” Jackie suggested. “The next time you see ‘em.”
“Never gonna happen.”
“Never know.”
“I...”
V leaned back, arms folded across her chest. She wasn’t going to argue – she didn’t know – but any conditions that put her back in contact with the clan weren’t likely to fall under favorable circumstances.
Jackie regarded her quietly. When no further argument proved forthcoming, he flicked his gaze around the tent, then back to her.
“C’mere,” he told her, drawing her out of her thoughts.
“...huh?”
“Come sit your ass down, over here,” Jackie elaborated, with a toss of his head. “C’mon.”
She did as he told her, settling back down in front of him. Up close, she could see the finer detail, the dots and swirls and the brushstrokes that went into the mask painted on his face. Underneath it, she could see Jackie, and the strange apprehension that had gripped her melted fully away.
She scoffed as he scrubbed her face with a soft, clean cloth.
“What... are you...?”
Jackie shushed her, and tossed the rag aside.
“Got inspired,” he told her. “You’ll see.”
V fidgeted, and stilled as his fingers came up under her chin. An uncertain smile faded from her lips as he got to work, and she watched his eyes, and the subtle variation in his expression, as he applied the makeup to her face, first in broad swathes followed by minute details, all with a single-mindedly focus.
Eventually, the time between brushstrokes began to stretch, and at long last Jackie made a lingering production of turning her head this way and that, as though double-checking his handiwork. He leaned back, and reached to slide a mirror that had been set aside across the table towards her.
V reached for it, dragging it closer before picking it up.
With a fleeting, self-satisfied smirk, Jackie retreated, and peered at her from behind his arms folded on the table.
V’s echoing smile grew pensive as she lifted the mirror, eyes meeting those of her reflection.
It was similar at least in its most basic design to the other skulls she had seen so far, only embellished with colors evoking a rich sunset over the desert, and bleeding into a dark, starlit night.
“In loving memory of the V whose life had to end so that this V’s life here in Night City could begin.”
There was a twinge in her chest. A pinprick in her heart, threatening to overflow.
V steadied the hitch in her breathing, taking it slow.
“It’s beautiful.”
Jackie shrugged, and put in, “If you want my opinion, it’s got next to nothing compared to the girl wearin’ it.”
“Yeah, well... I’d’ve figured you’d just write gonk on my forehead and be done with it.”
He snickered, and the warmth of it fluttered in her chest. She sobered again, quickly enough.
“I feel like it’s... like I’m gonna smudge it...”
“Hey, if you don’t,” Jackie remarked, almost under his breath, “I probably will by the end of the night.”
V’s eyebrows raised, and she tore her eyes away from the mirror to glance his way; before she could drum up a retort, he cleared his throat, straightening up again, and offered her his hand.
“You, uh... wanna come be festive with me for a while?” he asked, nodding out towards the street. “It’ll be fun. We can get smashed, and... and I can introduce you to all the family ghosts.”
V reached for his outstretched hand. Curling his fingers tight around hers, he raised her knuckles to his lips, and the smile that graced her own was almost shy.
If he noticed, he didn’t so much as tease her about it. Jackie merely swung his legs out over the bench to stand, and tugged her after him to her feet, and his arm settled comfortably over her shoulder as they stepped out into the street.