IC Contact

[tacticalvisor]

For network, messenger bird, or other such IC contact. Also works for actionspam as needed.

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[gr1m]

[He'd.. honestly had his suspicions, from what Ana had told him about the state she'd found Jack in. How long he'd been gone and, well.

Who else would know what death had felt like than 'death' himself? Quiet as he was for a moment, even that idle drumming having stopped.]

Probably did. Death here is a lot like what happened to me, so I've gathered.

You come back, but what happened remains with you.

[tacticalvisor]

[He appreciates it being treated so casually, honestly. In a way, he desperately wants it to be - needs it to be.]

Just like anything else, huh?

[Anything else they've been through. That it's harsh for the first period of time, but gets easier to deal with. Like a first loss of a friend, a first loss, period, hell - a first near-death experience.

You get used to those. He's still waiting to get used to what happened.]

[gr1m]

Almost, but not quite.

[He had danced around death so often it was familiar in so many ways to him, so many brushes, fighting to keep going so long as he knew he was needed. Risking so much just to...

Well.]

It leaves a deeper scar, and doesn't hurt in a way you can deal with like anything else.

[Couldn't just shoulder through the pain and act like it wasn't there until it stopped hurting.]

[tacticalvisor]

God damn it.

[The curse is exhaled as he reaches up to rub his face. Brushes with death he's familiar with. But now that he's experienced it? Now that he's felt what it's like for his lungs to fill with water, for the world to go black and not come back?

Before, he'd hate to feel weak in front of Reaper, much less display any sign of it. Now, he just grabs the quilt and secures it about his shoulders to keep that damp chill from piercing through to his bones.]

Do you go through this- have you gone through this more than...[he cuts himself off. Because as much as Reyes claims he's dead, he's...well, he's sure as fuck alive. Before this emotional bullshit, no less.]

[gr1m]

Once?

Yeah. Not here, but... [He had died, and he came back because of what he'd allowed O'Deorain to do to him. How many experiments he lost count of, but after it all, well.

Maybe here he was more stable, but for a long time—]

Bone deep, creeping. Never forget every feeling, sometimes feel like it's happening all over again.

There are reasons I don't sleep, Morrison.

[tacticalvisor]

[As his father said when he was young; r i p.

He's not sure if he was hoping for reassurance. It's reassuring, in its own way, that Reyes isn't softening the blow. Giving it to him straight without any lies or fake comfort - still, Jack feels cold, and he rolls over with a grunt in a not-sulk about the whole situation.]

That explains why you can be such an asshole.

[Y'know. Like how you used to shoot him in the past.

...in the past.

He glances back.]

Is it this place? [That's. Made him somewhat less of one. And, dare Jack think it, allowed just a bit of healing to happen between them?]

[gr1m]

You never needed any help being one.

[No bite behind it, just that same tone in that nostalgic voice as everything else had been delivered with.

He said he could do it for a while, so when Jack did finally glance back it would be to the sight of Gabriel Reyes sitting beside that bucket, looking tired as all hell and hood pulled up, not in leather and claws, but in some soft fabric hoodie and fingerless gloves.]

Yeah. Because I'm not alone, and I don't hurt as much. I don't feel like I'm constantly dying every time I do anything. [He could just go somewhere and...]

I'm just... me.

[tacticalvisor]

[Well, the dampness is gone. The chill about Jack remains, but it's not...a biting one. It's like the calm cold of a pristine snowfall, as he just...takes in that sight of Gabriel pulling himself together in to a view that makes his heart so nostalgic, it fucking hurts for a second.

He takes a breath and slowly lets it out, getting a hold of himself. Of his emotions, of that fucking memory of how Gabriel used to be - both for better or worse. The juxtaposition of Reaper against Reyes, and this merger of the two that has settled in to this world.

When he speaks, his voice is rough. Almost raw.]

'Sgood for you. Always hurt when first thing we did was draw guns.

[holy fucking shit, real, brutal honesty from Jack Morrison.]

[gr1m]

[Hands rested three on the table beside the bed on either side of him, one just behind the bucket he'd been a large amount of shadow slime in. Could only keep this up for a little while before he'd have to get back in it.

... Eh, maybe it was worth it. Head tilted to one side slightly.]

Yeah.

[Not.. clarifying what that agreement was for exactly.

He did lean forward, no enough to dislodge him, but just enough—]

You're not alone with this shit.

[tacticalvisor]

[And that feels like a mug of warm coffee on the porch while watching that snow. Smells like one, too, however faintly. Emotional bullshit.

His lips tug to the side in a crooked smile.]

'Preciate it.

[a beat. And then a sigh.]

Now I just have to figure out how to tell Ana.

[gr1m]

[There was a slight shrug of shoulders, corner of his mouth twitching a bit.

Before he reached out and let some fluttering butterfly-shaped light drop from his hand to crawl about Jack's hair. Some weird little comforting warmth to it.]

One dead man to another, I guess.

[A little rasp back to his voice, but not enough to not sound like himself still.]

Worry about how you'll tell her when you have your head wrapped around it better.

[Still tell her, but there'd be time.]

[tacticalvisor]

[...Gabe, that's not necessary. He's just gonna reach up and. Try and flick it. Say bye bye to coffee smell, hello slightly burnt smell of irritation?]

Yeah, yeah.

[Beat]

Maybe I should go out and get a new wardrobe all in black. Make it official. Where'd you get your mask, anyway?

[gr1m]

[Enjoy that mix of cinnamon and marigold to have that bit of bitter with something warm, that twitched turned in to something of a shit eating grin.

A mild one, but there.]

Made it. Want me to make an outfit to replace that tacky ass jacket of yours? Update your look and bring it in to something that looks good?

[tacticalvisor]

I like my tacky ass jacket. [It's old and comfortable and at his age, he's allowed that.] And on second thought, a mask'd probably means I'd have to get rid of the visor. [which he also likes.]

So maybe I should just work on rebranding. I'll take some teaching from you in that, edgelord. How should I start acting, huh, act like I'm the next angel of death or whatever?

[This is nice. Reminds him of how they used to tease one another, really. He's even still smiling, rolled on to his side to watch Gabe]

[gr1m]

You always did have strange taste. [Such as going around with his damned SEP number blazen across his back.] Maybe you should just paint skeleton teeth across your mask.

Try and play at being one of the cool kids. Going to start using slang and say shit's radical, dude?

Shake things up, without stealing my act?

[tacticalvisor]

How do you do, fellow mercenaries?

[said with a fingergun, no less.]

[gr1m]

[That was laughter.

Full blown laughter that rarely ever came from Gabriel, let alone from Reaper.]

You are an old fucking man, Jack.

[tacticalvisor]

[Jack laughs a bit at that, too, the warmth returning. Is that the scent of a hearth fire, now, emanating from him?]

You're still older than me, abuelo. [He thinks that's how you call someone 'gramps'. Eh. Gabe'll laugh if he mispronounces it, he's sure.] Besides, shit like wine's better with age.

[gr1m]

[Jack got a punch to the shoulder, even if it was far more like a bump of knuckles against it instead, Gabriel still leaned forward with an arm rested across thighs.

Still perched right where he was.]

You're the one who looks it between the two of us, bolillo. [Rolled right off his tongue, too.] You just accidentally complimented me rather than sticking in for yourself.

[tacticalvisor]

Boli-really, Gabe? [ur gonna pull out ur superior spanish on him. FINE, BE THAT WAY. He rolls his eyes, reaching for one of the extra pillows and tossing it with only so much effort at Reyes] At least I'm not the one stuck in a bucket.

[beat]

I mean, a buuuuuh-ket.

[gr1m]

Really, Jack. [Don't start what can't be kept up with, or something like that. Chuckling as he caught that pillow

even if it knocked his hood back, hair a good bit longer than how he usually lets it grow.] Tempoaril—

[Corner of his mouth twitched before that pillow was tossed back back at Morrison.]

This buuuuh-ket is going to be a new hat for you soon.

[tacticalvisor]

[Catch!] Don't make me be stealin' your buuuuuuh-ket, it's not like I've got a bedpan around here.

[Not like he needs one - he's perfectly capable of getting up to use the wash closet - but the 'threat' is there as he tosses the pillow back]

[gr1m]

[Catching that pillow with a lean back, a foot propped just against the edge of that bed. Luckily he's just wearing socks rather than any of his boots.

Maybe the catch was a bit exaggerated, holding the pillow to his chest for a moment.]

Saying you need one, old man? Do I need to inform Ana of this news?

[Pillow toss!]

[tacticalvisor]

[just gonna prop himself up and whup that is a pillow to the face. alas, his plans have been turned against him. but he's laughing a little, grabbing hold and swatting at Reaper with it, WHAT'RE YOU GONNA DO WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE IT AT ALL HUH]

Don't you fucking dare-!

[gr1m]

Or what?

[Batting away at the pillow with his hands easily enough, laughing just under hi breath all the while.

Keeping that foot propped against the edge of the bed as well.]