John has been an incredible pal, opening up his home to Jake and his son on such short notice, and even offering him a pair of pants, as well as a shirt that he has so far neglected to put on. John’s house doesn’t have air conditioning. It’s a charming little cottage, but it could sure as aces use some airing out. And dusting. And just general upkeep. The old place really has gone to seed since John’s been away. Jake shudders to think what sort of state his own mansion is in. Jane will probably have it demolished now, he imagines. It, like the rest of his assets, is in her name. She’d seen to that as soon as they were married.
Back at chez Crocker, there had been a legion of hired help to take care of the ins-and-outs of running a household. Jane’s far too busy to bother with such things, and Jake... well, he just never bothered. Why should he, when there were other people to take care of it for him? But the decades of easy living don’t change the fact that he spent the first 16 years of his life in the deep, lush bush of the south pacific jungle. There certainly had been no one to cook and clean and bring down the big game then! Besides his grandma, but she had him shooting as soon as he could hold a pistol.
No pistols are shot today, but Jake is determined to have the place in tip-top shape by the time John gets back from...wherever he is. He hasn’t seen much of Tavros today either, but that’s not unusual. He’s probably out with his kismesis, the one he thinks Jake doesn’t know about. He washes the floors and windows, cleans a toilet or three, and chases a family of squirrels out from the inside of the attic wall. They chitter angrily at him but he doesn’t back down.