(no subject)

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

Who: Jack Ryan (kindly_done) and Augustus Sinclair (worldentire)
Where: Sinclair's room
When: A day, maybe two after the fear event
Rating: I can't imagine it going over a light PG-13 for discussion of violence and maybe swearing
Summary: Tie monopolizes V's threading time Jack has a worse-than-usual fit of post-event wangst and goes to talk about it to someone he didn't horribly kill.
the Story:

Jack has been sleeping on the beach. He still has sand in his shoes, tracking it grittily down the hallway as he shuffles along to Sinclair's room. Somehow, he can't seem to stomach going to anyone else: Elaine he'll forgive eventually, but thinking of Delta mindless and shambling leaves him tongue-tied, and the thought of speaking to Alex or Bhamba is too terrifying to contemplate. Sinclair, though...he's always got something to say, and if he doesn't, he'll have liquor and cigarettes and companionship. And Jack has no memory of harming him.

He stops in front of the door and looks up, hollow-eyed, into whatever security lens Sinclair has positioned up there at the moment. He's making an effort to appear less distraught than he is, but it's costing him a lot; he's holding his shoulders in painful-looking tension, and though he's dry-eyed, he lets out the occasional sharp inward gasp of someone who has been crying for a long time, and whose diaphragm has simply become too accustomed to the sobs to stop.

Slowly, as if his brain isn't quite connecting to his body, he raises his fist to knock.

Comments

lol it's not like anyone else is tagging me. :|

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

It's dinnertime in the rooms of one mister Augustus Sinclair, Esq. for five growing puppies. They used to leap over each other excitedly whenever dinner came, but they've long since learned patiently sitting and waiting for their rather large caretaker to feed them all individually receives the same results with less chastising, and so they sit, and they wait, staring and excitedly wagging their tails. Sinclair sets each of the bowls in front of each matching pup and backs away, smirking and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

"Well, go on, then," he murmurs, and turns away to light a cigarette as the dogs begin to eat, quietly but happily. A peaceful pack is a happy pack, he muses, slipping the pack of cigarettes and lighter back into his pocket.

There's a knock at the door and Sinclair glances at it over his shoulder. It's been a long time since he's had a visitor, preferring to keep to himself as is, and he stretches slightly and glances over at his monitors. Jack. Huh. He looks dead beat.

Swinging the door open, he smiles easily at Jack, raising an eyebrow. "Well, hell, son, it's been a while since I've seen you," he says, and opens the door wider to allow Jack entrance. "What's been keepin' you, lately?"

they're just intimidated by your hammer

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

He steps inside, shrugging one shoulder. "I was trying to get ahold of you last week, but...I think it was an event. No matter what I did--" No luck. The sight of the puppies never fails to bring a smile to his face, and now is no exception, though it's a particularly weak example.

He keeps his eyes on them--they're such a convenient focus when one is feeling awkward--and tries again:

"There was--there was a--"

Too direct. Take it from another angle. His shoulders hunch further forward, and his hands are clenched tightly enough at his sides to pale the knuckles and make the tendons stand out.

"I can't stand this place anymore. It's making me crazy."

damnright. QUEEN OF ALBIOOOOON

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair raises an eyebrow. Oh, he knew about the goddamned event. It's just better if he doesn't share what happened to him.

"Crazy, huh?" Sinclair murmurs, closing the door. "Sit down, Jack," he says as he crosses the room, pulling open the closet and peering in at it. Then, he seems to decide against whatever he was going to pull out and sits down at the desk, the monitors back-lighting him as he stares at Jack. "Why don't you go ahead and tell me what happened, son," he says quietly, sticking the cigarette into his trusty holder.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"I didn't like that, the radio not working. Were you safe?"

He sighs heavily, sagging into a chair and lighting up himself. He takes a few deep drags while he gets his thoughts together, eyes distant and hard with anxiety.

"The--the--WYK came back." He doesn't like to even mention it if he doesn't have to, and his tone takes on a clipped edge, spitting it out, getting it over with. "Boy, did people have lots of fun with that." A high, alarming laugh, no humor in it. "Didn't stop me from getting into plenty of trouble on my own."

/uses murmurs a shitton DON'T EVEN START ON IT blame the noir

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Oh, great. "Oh, yeah?" Sinclair murmurs, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He raises his eyebrow and purses his lips around the cigarette holder, talking expertly around that (because, trust the mun, that shit is harder than it looks). "What happened?"

I-I wasn't going to say anythiiiiing ;~;

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"I took a bite out of Alex Kralie," he says dryly, though he means it in the most literal sense. "He was spliced again. He came at me. I was hurt."

He doesn't feel as bad about Alex as he might. Self-defense is a good justification in his book. The next part is harder.

"...Dr. Bhamba came up behind me. Shouted something. I didn't know it was him. I swung around--"

He crushes his cigarette between his fingers, going tight around the eyes.

"I hit him. He died."

dude, I wrote "murmurs" about 6000000 times. :|

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"Splicin' again? That boy just doesn't know when t'stop." Sinclair sighs and shakes his head, taking a long drag from his cigarette again and breathing out the smoke as he speaks. "What else?"

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

He looks down at his hands.

"Bhamba made me clean the roof. And wear a hat. He didn't mean it, though."

It's a long moment before he manages the next part.

"Mister Pendergast made me put his brother's eye out."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Well, that's a surprise. And here, Sinclair'd always pegged that mortician-looking fella for an eventually good guy. He frowns, shakes his head. "Damn, son," he says softly, his voice low, shaking his head some more for good measure, looking 100% the disturbed, worried adult. "That's... I'm not sure what to say."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"That's all there is. Bhamba won't talk to me. I think he's afraid of me."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"And just who was the unlucky soul t'get his eye plucked out?"

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Diogenes Pendergast. He was with us during the event with the ghouls. The redhead with the sledgehammer."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair nods slowly, recalling him. Oh, right, that crazy murderer I watched kill a man in the shrubs in the garden. "Right, right. Aren't they brothers?"

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Yeah. They're brothers. They sound almost just the same."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair nods again and sighs. "I'm sorry you had t'go through all that, son," he says quietly, shaking his head. "Nasty sort've business."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"I hate it here. I'm thinking about moving out."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"And just where're you plannin' on goin', then, son?" Sinclair asks with his eyebrow raised, somewhat amused.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Outside. I bet I could build something to stay in. I could come in just for food."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"... You know the mansion wouldn't take kindly t'that, son," Sinclair replies gravely, fixing Jack with a very serious look.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Maybe I don't care what the mansion likes."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair sighs heavily, shaking his head. "If you fight it, you know what happens, Jack," he says softly.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"What? What happens?" He shows his teeth. "It gets worse? It's already worse."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"How's it worse, then, son? You still have control'a your body and control'a your mind. There's no one breathing down your neck with a command right now, is there? Not t'mention, you have people who're there for you and a dog waitin' for you when you get home." Sinclair straightened up slightly. "You've all people should know there's more t'lose than this."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Celeste could come with me," he argues weakly, "and I'd visit." A heavy sigh, and his shoulders slump. "I guess you're right."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"'Course I am," Sinclair replies simply, and then sighs. "Don't look so damn down, son. It's not so bad, you just have t'know how t'spend your time."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"I can usually find something to do. It's just the events."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"Even then." Sinclair raises an eyebrow. "How often d'you see me around durin' an event?"

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Once in a while. I don't see you all that much anyway, you're mostly here."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"Once in a while," Sinclair repeats pointedly. "Because, when I can, I make sure there ain't a soul who can find me in the mansion. When I have to, son, I run, and if that makes me a coward, a coward I am. That last event wasn't fun for any of us, but there's nothin' worse than bein' subjected t'your worst nightmare every few events."

an example of fantastic deductive reasoning right here

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

In every conversation, there seems to come a point where Jack can't quite follow, and this is it. He listens attentively enough, but his face is blank; he can catch the individual elements, but hooking them together is difficult. He comes back around to the last point, frowning.

"You..."

He blinks, realizing.

"You were a Big Daddy again."

oh god jack stop while you're ahead you might hurt yourself

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair grimaces and actually turns away, pulling a long drag off his cigarette. He gives a short nod in reply, but can't bring himself to say it out loud.

it's just a little strain, he can walk it off

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Why didn't you say something?" His tone is faintly accusatory, but mostly just concerned. "You've been sitting here listening to me this whole time, and I didn't even know."

thank god i really got worried about him there for a second

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair shifts uneasily, grunts a little. "Didn't feel like sharin', son," he replies with a gruff murmur, standing and getting a snifter of scotch out of his closet. He offers a glass to Jack without a word.

if it had been really bad, he could always cover it up with a pie

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Sorry," he grunts, not sure if he's really done anything wrong, but deciding that it sounds right anyway. He sniffs the scotch, for no other reason than because he's curious about how it smells, then slugs it down. "You keep the best medicine."

that usually does work pretty well... might want to get one, just in case.

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Sinclair smirks, holding his glass up to Jack for a moment before slugging his own. "Years'a practice, son. Especially in Rapture."

yeah I'm just going to fuck with this extradiegetics thing for a sec

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"You know, it's funny...it seems like no matter how much I drink, I don't stay drunk for very long."

wait what

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

After a moment of staring, Sinclair just laughs. "I'd guess that's somethin' you shot yourself up with, son. Booze Hound, maybe. Maybe it's just your engineering."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

He shrugs and holds out his glass for more.

"Saves me from hangovers."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

Obliging Jack, he pours another few fingers into his glass and smiles. "I never happen t'get hangovers either, but that's just what God gave me." A quick shrug. "Never really thought about splicin', but that tonic was always one'a my favourites."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Was it one of yours? It's pretty smart."

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"Mmmhmm. It was a good business plan, at the time." He winks. "I had a good fair few out under my name. 'Course, everyone assumed that it wasn't Sinclair Solutions puttin' out everythin', but in a way, I was. I put out everythin', in a way. I was a good conduit t'get their plasmids t'their people, and damn it all if it didn't pay well."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"How did you keep up with everything?"

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

He waves a hand at the screens behind him. "Good intel. Payin' splicers t'get me the good word. Sneakin' into offices at night. Havin' 'people' on the other side. Anythin' I could t'get the upper hand, especially around Fontaine and Lamb. Both of 'em were known for.... Well, if they decided they didn't like a fella, he disappeared the next day."

So basically, creepin'. But pro.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Ryan was like that too. Sneaking into people's offices, really?"

*legit*, son. Legit creepin'.

[worldentire.livejournal.com]

"Mmhm. Got easier once you started cleanin' out the city." A bitter little half-smirk. "'Course, after livin' through Rapture as a city and then Rapture as Hell, I got a good hand for it anyways. Only got caught once or twice."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Cleaning is nicer than how I'd put it."

And after that, he just looks at Sinclair and doesn't say anything at all, because he knows the last time he got caught was really and truly the last time, and what can he say to that?