agoodyarn | for corkscrewed: of all the ridiculous nonsense...

Probably.

[ said with a certain bland cheerfulness, before martin smiles at jon, as if he's actually pretending that he has no idea why the other man might actually be upset. ]

I tried to get my own room, but the lady at the front said they're all booked up tonight? Some conference happening nearby, apparently. May I come in?

[ he has a travel bag in hand and a backpack dangling from one shoulder, and he is utterly, utterly sincere. ]

[ Words utterly fail him as he tries to figure out what to do. Martin is here. Martin is here. Martin Blackwood is here. Maybe if he puts the emphasis on a different part of the sentence it will start making sense enough for him to formulate a response, but he wouldn't put money on it.]

Go home.

[ That is not a reasonable response. Some part of him knows it isn't especially since he has no idea if Martin paid for the tickets with his own money or if he used the Institute funds which technically he does have access to for this but Who Knows given it's Martin and he might have just spent his on money Just To Do So.

There is a long low hiss at the back of his brain and it has nothing to do with eldritch beings and everything to do with wanting to use foul language but being unwilling to compromise his usual decorum so it's just a sort of low ffffffffffffffffffff like the air out of a baloon. ]

Go home, Martin, right now. You aren't- there's no reason- you were not-

What in the world do you think you're doing?

[ there's a certain, stupid, guilty, childish pleasure martin gets from tripping jon up like this. a solid reminder that he really is just human, for all that martin occasionally hoists him up onto a pedestal. ]

Can't just go home. Why do you think I'm just now getting here? I got the latest tickets I could just so you wouldn't be able to send me packing.

[ he takes a breath and tries to galvanize his will. this is the right choice. this is where he's supposed to be. ]

Let me in.

[ There is an irrational urge, one that he would never even start to indulge as much because it is patently ridiculous as it is deeply unrealistic, but he wants to pick him up like something out of a children's cartoon and boot him back to London. That is what he wants. Why do terrible horrible monsters that watch your every move or devour you in living darkness exist but the ability to do any of that is ridiculous? Life is not at all fair.

What is he even thinking?

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

Mostly.

He's also closing his eyes and yes, stepping back into the room. It's as much welcome as Martin's getting but it isn't another repeat of his command for Martin to go home so that's progress, isn't it?

He'll even close the door after him.]

You're insane.

[ He's just repeating it. For posterity.

...of course a tape recorder is running. What is his life, after all? ]

Yeah. I know. Sorry.

[ martin feels a little of the stress drain from his shoulders when he steps inside, just because a small part of him had worried that jon really was going to shut the door in his face.

he puts his bags down, but doesn't quite toe his shoes off yet. some of the cool, firm facade melts away, too. ]

Jon, look, I'm sorry, I just- I had a bad feeling this time when I saw you making plans and, I don't know. I couldn't stay behind this time. You shouldn't have to do all of this alone. [ he hesitates, then adds: ] I promise, I won't get in your way. Just don't be cross with me.

[ The 'not being cross' with him is impossible. As pathetic as that request is, as much as it should be the easiest one of the lot, it's the one that he knows is impossible. Because he is- he-

He's almost shaking as he steps away from the door and goes to the singular bed in the room and sits. He needs to sit. His knees might go out from just- too much. Too much feeling jamming it's way through him and he wasn't built for it. He was built to be mildly acerbic and read his stupid statements and write his stupid reports and run the most ill-loved part of the Magnus Institute quietly and without much oversight.

Instead, his life is this.

And isn't this just-

Don't be cross with me?]

You're here.

[ It sounds like an accusation more than a simple statement of fact.]

You're here and... there's hardly reason to make you go now.

[ He is livid, positively livid, but it's simmering. FFFFFFFFFFF. Like the top of a pressure cooker.]

I can't- I can't believe you did this. [ Quiet. Disbelieving. Almost... gentle. Maybe to himself? ] Simple directions, [ Louder. ] simple- [ And now he's almost shouting. ] how hard is it to stay where you are and do what you're supposed to do? Do you realize what could happen to you? Do you?

[ I do.]

Edited 2019-01-07 17:59 (UTC)

[ for a few moments, martin thinks that this is probably going to be alright. he had expected frustration, exasperation - but he had expected jon to just deal with it, too, because... because why? because jon was used to just quietly accepting things that he didn't want to?

and even now, he can't figure out why jon is so angry at him. is it because he's disobeyed orders, or because his presence alone adds more danger to the pot before stirring it up?

he takes a careful breath, flinching under jon's words, but he doesn't back down or take a seat. ]

Being in the Archives never kept anyone else safe, Jon. If I'm - if I'm going to face spooky things, I'd rather do it with you.

[ and then, more softly: ]

Sorry. I'm sorry.

[ that jon is upset. he's still not sorry he came. ]

[ It's not Martin's presence he thinks is dangerous. It's not Martin, he thinks, that stirs the pot.

Who's been kidnapped? Who'd stumbled on the worms in the Archives? Who did Not!Sasha focus her manipulations on? Who did 'Michael' keep visiting? Who was Elias grooming? Who had one of these things claws deep in him, who wasn't even human anymore? Who could feel the little twinge of pleasure every time he discovered something new, every time his new little talent made someone spill information they needed? Who was clearly an epicenter that was trying desperately not to kill anyone else in his radius?

It wasn't Martin.

And maybe the words would come out loud again, angry, hissing if Martin didn't apologize, keep apologizing. Martin's apologies flowed easily, but they could just as easily make something worse as make them better more often than not. Right now, though, they diffuse. Or perhaps he's just... tired.]

Hasn't it, though?

[ He'll let the words hang for a moment, quiet, more hollow than soft. Hollowed out. His anger's drained because there's no use to it. Martin is here. Martin is here for at least tonight, theoretically the entire trip, and there is nothing reasonable he can do about it.]

When I'm not there. When I've been abroad. Has anything actually happened while I wasn't there?

Yeah. Plenty. We've all been - trapped, and miserable, and directionless.

[ there's another long stretch of hesitation, before martin approaches the bed as well, taking a seat on the edge of it. as far away from jon, but it's clear that that's out of simple uncertainty more than anything else. ]

This mean you're gonna make me sleep on the floor?

[ he's desperately scrambling for some levity here, because if the entire trip is this tense, he might die. ]

But nothing has attempted to kill you.

[ Elias is... Elias. And he wishes he could think of something to do about him but unfortunately, that problem is a trickier one than he has the bandwidth for given the upcoming ritual and everything else that keeps putting a bag over his head and dragging him off.

He breathes in and he's about to go on, explain to Martin that if he thought getting them away from the Institute was how he could protect them he'd look for every foreign statment he could and bankrupt the damn place just to get them away as often as possible. But that did not seem to be the case. And-

Dammit, Martin.]

No.

I'd rather not step on you in the night.

[ He looks towards the door, or more specifically the lavatory, considers the logistics of it, and sighs again. The tub is right out, as it would leave him unable to relieve himself until Martin woke up. Instead, glancing back at the 'king' size bed- ]

Which side do you regularly sleep on?

Either.

[ is he maybe a little too eager to answer that? only because he's grateful not to be stuck sleeping on the floor. literally only that exact reason, and not for any other reason, ever.

he finally toes his shoes off, just to give himself an excuse to do something that isn't answer jon. ]

I'm gonna order a pizza. Do you want breadsticks?

[ s t u b b o r n. ]

[ You'll excuse him if he's skeptical, Martin, and there's a desire, an urge to ask a few questions after that answer but he firmly shuts his mouth and Does Not. Martin is... Martin. Whatever else he is, it's wrong to ask things of people he knows, people he works with.

He'll just keep reminding himself of this every few minutes. That will certainly work.

His own shoes were already off, as he'd finished unpacking and had been about to do a Statement to keep himself settled for the evening, but with Martin there, he'll just... wait. He can wait till tomorrow, maybe even the entire trip since it should be short.
He knows how little Martin enjoys the statements and he can't even imagine the ruin the acoustics of the bathroom would make on the tape recorder.

The question, however, requires an answer.]

Yes, please. And... do they have the garlic sauce still?

[ the tight squeeze around his heart and lungs eases at the question, and martin can't help himself: when he glances over at jon, he's smiling just a little bit. no, he can't let himself consider this a victory. if anything, it's going to result in jon guarding his travel plans more closely to the chest.

regardless. maybe he can prove himself useful. helpful. ]

I can check. Pepperoni okay?

[ he looks so incredibly hopeful. ]

[ That hopeful little smile simultaneously makes him want to smack it off his face and... well, stick him in a closet and lock the door so nothing can get in and destroy it. It's frustrating, deeply deeply frustrating, and if he wasn't feeling quite so drained, he might have actually growled.]

Pepperoni [ which he says like a medical proceedure] would be fine.

[ Fort Knox will tremble at the security precautions he's going to take with his next set of travel plans. Expect this to be a one time experience, Martin.]

Great. [ he orders the pizza through an app on his phone, standing up to wander over to the desk in the room, retrieving the street address from a hotel branded notepad sitting on it. he orders, laying the cash out as well (you only pay with cash when you're being stealthy, right?), before he returns to the bed and sits there a little nervously. ]

So. Early start in the morning?

[ he's part of this now, whether you like it or not. ]

[ He hasn't had a bed partner of any type for... years, really. Georgie and he- well, the less said there the better, but even aside from his lack of interest in more carnal concerns, he didn't usually get very close to people in a purely physical sense. There's the usual discomfort with the idea, of it possibly impacting his ability to actually get some sleep, but there's also the ridiculous and almost comical concern that he will strangle Martin in his sleep. Which is ridiculous because there is actually no power on Earth that could-

He'd never actually hurt anyone, he's never wanted to hurt anyone, but he just feels so helpless and frustrated that he's not sure where else to put all the feeling especially when he has no real place to go. The room is shared with Martin and Martin... fills a room, really. In a warm kind of way that right now equates to stiffling.

What in the hell is wrong with his assistants that all of them, all of them were determined to do their absolute best to put themselves into danger? What was wrong with all of them? And what-

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't, he didn't want to crush this hope. He didn't. All frustration aside, the fact that any of them still had any, even if it was nihilistic and suicidal (Tim) or murderous (Melanie) or... Martin...

Sometimes, it's all that keeps him going. He can admit that sometimes. Not often.]

Actually, the shop we'll be visiting tomorrow only opens at noon. But I suppose that gives us time for breakfast.

Breakfast would be nice.

[ martin is certainly comfortable enough to say that, at least. he likes eating with jon- likes making sure that jon is eating, taking care of himself. sleeping. things like that.

he tries not to investigate those thoughts any further, because part of him knows that it's a path he can't afford to inspect any more closely. not right now. maybe not ever.

tiredly, he rubs at his eyes with the back of his arm. ]

Do you mind if I shower before the pizza gets here? I feel a little gross from traveling.

Yes, of course. Get yourself... comfortable.

[ Which is probably the first thing he's answered with something approaching positivity. It still vaguely sounds like he'd rather be having dental work done but... such is his general mood.

But the fact of the matter is, Martin in the shower means he can hopefully get his Statement done before the other man is out. If he starts up once the door closes- ]

I'll be here. I'll... keep an ear out for the pizza.

[ Hopefully it will take longer because he'll almost certainly miss it if it comes before Martin is out.]

[ martin doesn't take long in the shower. a quick scrub, a quicker rinse, and then he's out - but then he lingers, because he can hear the murmur of jon's voice through the bathroom door. he can't quite make out any of the words, but he's more than familiar with that steady, uninterrupted cadence.

so he waits. uses some hotel lotion on his hands and arms, towels off his hair extra well, and combs through it with his fingers until there's silence. only then does he slip out of the bathroom, freshly scrubbed and a little overwarm from waiting around in a humid, enclosed space.

he clears his throat. ]

Statement okay?

[ are you okay? ]

[ This particular incident had taken place some decades before, an older Statement that didn't have a lot of traceable facts as far as he could tell. It did, however, involve spiders, the Web, and those always took a little extra out of him, so as Martin walks out, he might see Jon lean a little more on the desk than his writing would necessarily require. The question breaks the tension in the room, an unnatural singular tension that the Statements bring, and there's something less-annoyed as he glances up at Martin and nods to let him know-]

I'm fine. Just fine. I'll... be good for a few days, I think.

[ Then he realizes-]

It's fine.

[ There's a finger pointed towards the entrance where the pizza box is sitting on the counter nearest the small closet space provided, still closed, with the breadsticks on top.]

Dinner arrived while you were finishing up.

[ Thankfully, the pizza person had come when he'd finished the statement and was recording his observations so he'd heard the knocking easily enough.]

What?

[ martin does round over to the pizza box, pulling out only a breadstick for now. he's munching on it, fingers greasy, as he brings the whole box over to the desk where jon is sitting. he does at least have the good sense to place it as far as he possibly can away from the notes. ]

Good for a few days? What do you mean by that?

[ prompting, gently, because that was an odd turn of phrase, and he doesn't trust jon to be candid about anything without being asked point blank. ]

[ Point blank has three results: the first is to get a rather disgruntled (but truthful) answer and the other is to get a smoke screen in the form of absolute nonsense. Sometimes the nonsense is merely brushing aside what is clearly something important (2), while other times the nonsense is the kind of lie that has Jon stabbing himself with a butter knife because that's totally a thing that happens (3). At the moment-]

Nothing important, Martin.

[ -brush off. Which is better than the incompetent lie, since it isn't really lying, per se, but perhaps one day they'll get to the point where he just gives his, albeit grumpy, answer and they don't have to do this dance. Some day. ]

How is your... meal?

[ And he will take that moment to pull the breadsticks over, complete with the little plastic container of the garlic dipping sauce, in the hopes of distracting Martin. The man is overly concerned with his caloric intake, honestly.]

Edited 2019-01-08 18:15 (UTC)

[ martin hesitates, uncertainty clear on his face. he hates that jon keeps so many secrets. most of all, he hates that jon feels like he has to. but he'll take it for now, because at least it's not a lie, and really - martin knows he's on pretty thin ice when it comes to jon's good humors right now.

best not to keep pushing it. ]

Good. Greasy. [ martin pauses, peeling a piece of pepperoni off of his slice of pizza and eating it directly. ] But in a good way.

[ it's true, though: jon eating does settle him a bit. ]

The water here gets hot, too. That's pretty nice.

I might... do something similar, then. A shower.

[ He hadn't, mostly because he'd gotten absorbed into the details of his plans for tomorrow and then Martin had arrived.]

Hot water sounds... lovely.

[ What. is. small talk? And how do you do it when there's a big question sitting between them that Martin still clearly wants the answer to but he

Doesn't. He doesn't want to give that one, and not even for reasons that he feels are properly about Martin's safety. Needing the Statements, feeding on them, getting the kind of satisfaction he does from them as horrible as they all are... it's one of many things that makes him feel more disconnected, less human, and certainly less like someone Martin should put so much care and concern into. Martin has so little of a poker face, so much of it plain on his face, his heart in his eyes. He hasn't told anyone about this particular change in his literary diet (ha) but if it changed something for Martin, he's not sure how well he'd take that.

He's been trying, recently. He's been trying to stay connected, to reach out to the others, to make sure he isn't pulling away from them and towards Elias whatever his actual needs. Telling them about this...

Telling Tim or Melanie or, goodness, Daisy sort of scares him outright, and he doesn't want to think of Basira's gaze going thoughtful as she examines him with new eyes. Martin... ultimately, he's not so much afraid of harm from Martin as he is afraid of something... something he can't quite get his hands around. Something he doesn't want to think about, a trust he's put into Martin that isn't fair or right but it is all the same. ]

Breadstick?

You should. I mean- there are still plenty of towels. I brought some nice shampoo, too, it's - sulfate free? So it doesn't really foam up, but it's supposed to be quite good for your hair...

[ martin trails off, awkward, before he leans in to take that breadstick. ]

Probably a little silly to care about sulfates in shampoo with everything else going on, isn't it. I just meant, you're free to use it, if you want. But there's some hotel shampoo, too, if you didn't bring your own.

[ and he eats to shut himself up, because he can feel himself rambling, and he's strangely embarrassed by it. ]

for corkscrewed: of all the ridiculous nonsense...

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