IC Contact

[tacticalvisor]

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

Comments

[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.]

[tacticalvisor]

Or I'm telling Ana you're out of your bucket!

[Is the threat going to work? Who knows. But he'll try with it.

Gabe'll probably notice that he's tiring much, much faster than he should. Even so, he's practically - no, literally - glowing with amusement, even as he gives a final swat and leans back with a happy huff]

[gr1m]

[Gabriel actually snorted.]

That would be a good sign, means I'm recovering and not stuck in a bucket forever.

[It's noticed, catching hold of that pillow after a moment but no pulling it away.]

Though, I don't think I can hold this for to much longer.

[tacticalvisor]

Means you can get up and actually do some work, lazy ass.

[But his smile softens a bit. Less smirky, there.]

Don't stress on my account. You're harder to hit when you're smoke, anyway.

[gr1m]

You'd still end up with a bed pan.

[As it was he did let go of the pillow, in a way it'd drop over Jack's face as he retreated back in to that bucket and

Yeah, no. He let out a breath and probably shouldn't have held out as long as he had.]

Funny.