<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Jaxon was a little more reserved with his words, sometimes not commenting on something. As a whole, he seemed more reserved then Gabriel, but it didn't mean he enjoyed the company any less. It was good for him to get out, and probably just as important for him to make friends and continue to be social if he was going to improve mentally.<br/>
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“His name is Jason, and he's older, but not by much,” he answered with a fond smile. “He's my only sibling, despite how badly my mother begged the lord for a girl.” He shrugged. “Sometimes he has different plans, but I think we've turned out to be good kids. I'd say you should bring your little sister, but you probably want to keep her away from the rowdy teenage boys that will be there.” He inclined comfortably though they were finished with their meal, and plates were cleared away. He didn't seem bothered about the scrap being passed over. During their deployment, Jaxon often shared morsels of his own food. Kiv had worked hard for him, and he deserved the appreciation.<br/>
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“He's served, but not a service dog. That's a different association. Technically, I don't even own him. The military does,” Jaxon explained to the waiter when Kiv was referred to him as a service dog. Training was a great deal different. He doubted Kiv would pass a service dog test due to his training, and the working drive that had been encouraged in him. He'd been asked to try to register him as one or to even seek out a second dog as a service dog to help him cope with his PTSD. Jaxon didn't want to admit that he had a problem. Going anywhere with a registered service dog would make the knowledge of his issues more public, and that was also something he didn't want to deal with. He'd rather keep the issue private, and deal with it on his own. Jaxon was a capable man, in his prime. He didn't want to seem weak.<br/>
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As the topic continued on to concerts and the boundaries with which Jaxon was comfortable with, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't want to have to explain himself.<br/>
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“I don't really know,” he answered. He didn't want to lie, but he also wanted to get off the topic. There were a lot of factors that went in to the sort of places Jaxon would go to. Was it indoor, outdoor? How accessible were the exits? Were people drinking? What sort of people were there? Sometimes he didn't know until he got to a place, and he was still learning what set him off. At Jaxon's shift in mood, Kiv stood under the table, picking up on his owner's energy. It was easier to talk about line dancing.<br/>
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“Oh, really? Might have to go back out to some of the places I remember,” he commented. That had been on the list of things Jaxon wanted to do, something he'd spoken to with his therapist. She didn't feel he was ready yet, but shortly, perhaps with a group of friends he might be able to handle going out to one of the country bars he used to enjoy fresh out of high school.<br/>
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“Yes, it was very good. I'm sure this won't be the last time,” he smiled, paid the bill, and said his goodbyes.<br/>
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It wasn't. Even before the barbecue, Jaxon stopped in for lunch again shortly after. He was having one of his bad days. He'd spent some time with old friends again, but they had their expectations of him. They wanted to talk to him about his time in the war, and Jaxon didn't want to disappoint them and appear like less of a man. Like someone who wasn't strong enough to cope with all that had occurred. He couldn't bring himself to talk of his time overseas, but he couldn't bring himself to break their image of him either by explaining that he was having a hard time now that he was back home.<br/>
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Jaxon had come back to Picaduras, one because a man had to eat, and two, he'd hoped to see Gabriel there. He was new territory and someone who didn't hold expectations for him. Despite his outward appearance of nothing going on, it was still nice to be around new friends who didn't drudge up things he wanted to forget. Gabriel wasn't there, and though the food was good, he found himself a little disappointed. He'd said hello to Marisol, but didn't say that he'd hoped to see Gabriel as well.<br/>
</span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">–</span></span>​</div><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><br/>
Slater wasn't just going to let things rest. He'd been arrested, charges pending, but he'd posted bail and lawyered up. He wasn't detained long as a result, but he was still furious at the inconvenience, all while Gabriel got to rest comfortably at home, probably whoring around now that he had the chance. Slater was left to sit and stew, drawing conclusions as to <i>who</i> he might be whoring with.<br/>
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Once released, he wouldn't stand for it. He wanted to know what his boyfriend was doing, despite the warning and restraining orders that clearly indicated he should keep his distance. He was careful sneaking onto the property in the middle of the night. He only wanted to check to make sure Gabriel was home, <i>alone</i>. Poking around his little house, he couldn't tell, especially with the inhabitant(s) most likely sleeping.<br/>
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He'd decided at least he wanted Gabriel a little bit scared and certainly inconvenienced at the mess he'd caused. He picked up the brick beside the window, and without thinking, heaved it through it. The sound of glass breaking was loud, and Slater took off away from the house but stayed close enough to see if Gabriel was there at all. He realized he might not be spending the night at his home, and that made him determined to at least get sight of the young man. No one could sleep through that.</span></span>