entrancelogs | Sneaking this in before the event~

Entry tags:

Sneaking this in before the event~

Who: Jack Ryan (

kindly_done) and Augustus Sinclair (

worldentire) again more now.
Where: Outside, in the vicinity of the hills.
When: Not long after Sinclair goes out dog-walking.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sinclair happens upon a rather unhappy Jack, they conversate.
the Story:

Jack has finished his Mansion-climb, cleaned himself up, spent time with Cindy--taken care of business, in other words--but he's been distracted, preoccupied, something itchy in the back of his mind, getting at him every time he lets his guard down for a moment. It's that conversation he had with Delta--Johnny.

To get out of the Mansion is often his solution, so he's been ranging around the hills for a while, his stride even and loping, his gaze distant as if he's looking for something that he can never quite find.

Eventually he tires even of this, and settles himself beneath a small black-and-white rise, his knees drawn up, hands lying slack on the ground by his heels.

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"...Ah. That's all Lamb's doin'. I'm sure she still considers you in that form as a holy father or somethin'." A snort. He obviously doesn't go in for that philosophy, but I'm sure everyone knew that already.

"Don't worry too much about it, son."

His hand closes around his wrist now, twisting fitfully back and forth.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one they...worshiped for being...brainwashed."

A sigh.

"You've got t'keep in mind who we're talkin' about here. We're talkin' about Sofia Lamb and her band'a crazed, juiced-up Splicers. She gave one insane man a needle and a holy text and he spread the word t'all the others. It isn't somethin' you should worry yourself over."

"It just bothers me, that's all. Pictures of...of my hands, of--"

He shrugs and silently turns his wrist over to show Sinclair the tattoo, even though the image will already be familiar from the murals.

"And her saying she wants to help me--just so she can warn me about Delta. And there's something else, too."

Oh, he totally already knew about the tattoos. He doesn't want to mention that, though, and the smirk in his head doesn't show on his face.

"What's that?" His tone is quiet, like he wants to help Jack. Which, actually, isn't too far off from the truth - even if it is driven by a need to know if he's still being talked about.

Unfortunately for Sinclair, the something else is entirely unrelated to Lamb, and thus contains nothing useful.

"Whenever I tell people about the girls, they say 'oh, you must miss them.' It's not their fault, but they don't understand that--"

He breaks off, then haltingly continues, "I'm a stranger to myself without them."

Thank god. Like he needed another WHO ARE YOU-fest. He mentally sighs his relief.

"They keep you sane," he replies, his voice still quiet, with a tone that is somehow knowing. "...Don't you have Elaine and all them here, at least? Does that help?"

"It helps some. It's not the same, though. I like them, but they aren't mine. My girls chose me. They could have gone with Brigid and the others, but they wanted to stay with me, and..."

Deep breath.

"Do you know how long I've been here?"

He nods. "I understand," he says as Jack takes a breath.

"..No. Can't imagine too long."

"Three months to the day. In one week, I'll have been here longer than I've lived at home with my own kids."

He smiles bitterly.

He shifts slightly, somewhat uneasy. "I'm sorry, son," he says quietly.

"It's killing me. I just want to go home."

He sounds more tired than anything, and leans forward, resting his head on his knees.

For a while, Sinclair just sits there, watching the puppies romp around nearby, puffing at his cigarette. Then, he puts an arm around Jack's shoulders slowly, sighing heavily. There's nothing he can really say; hopefully this very, very rare show of affection helps.

"My memory's a funny thing. Am I going to lose them, too?"

He leans in a little, nothing more demonstrative than that, but it is a comfort.

"Of course not. You'll keep 'em."

His grip tightens juuuuuust a little, and his voice goes quieter than it was before.

"I won't let you lose yourself, Jack."

"Promise?"

It seems like a stupid thing to ask--how could Sinclair promise something like that? But he can't stop himself from asking.

"Mmhm."

He sits with his arm around Jack for another moment or so, then lets go, giving Jack a small, tired smile. "You keep doin' the same for me. No way I'm goin' t'let you fall apart now." A pause, and he looks back at the pups. "...You don't deserve it."

Jack looks at the dogs too, because it's less awkward that way.

"Thanks."

"They're comin' on into their own, already," he says, to quickly avoid much more of this awkwardness, though he's still smiling slightly. "Growin' pretty fast, but they're puppies." A shrug. "Nice t'have'em around. Keeps me from gettin' bored." Or lonely.

"I want to train Celeste to be a guard dog. Can you help?"

"'Course. She'll be a damn good one." A wider smile.

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Sneaking this in before the event~

He's concerned, that's all. I have so many loling ones. XD

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REAL MEN DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT

EXACTLY.

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