(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

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?