Jonathan Sims (
epistemological) wrote in
agoodyarn2019-01-07 11:50 am
for
corkscrewed: of all the ridiculous nonsense...
[ There are many things that Jon has come to expect when he is out and about in the world. One of them, of course, is being kidnapped. He's up to... two, maybe three times at this point? More than once and it's a pattern, as far as he's concerned. Being accosted by supernatural beings, certainly. Nearly killed, of course. Some sort of painful injury or mind-breaking experience, obvious.
The polite tap tap tap on his hotel room door revealing Martin Blackwood of all things?
He... he should not have to deal with this. This was- he-]
Are you insane?
The polite tap tap tap on his hotel room door revealing Martin Blackwood of all things?
He... he should not have to deal with this. This was- he-]
Are you insane?

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[ martin is actually slightly staggered by surprise, just caught entirely off guard by the casual way jon just pulls a pack out of his pocket and offers him one.
(it comes with a stupid, petulant flood of thought in the vein of 'how much do i not know about him,' but he shakes that off.) ]
I mean, I-I suspected, you do sometimes smell a bit like smoke, but- Jon, honestly, how is working for Elias not dangerous enough all by itself?
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He sighs, heavily, and tucks the rest of the pack back into his jacket as he takes a pull and lets the smoke curl out from his lips in contemplation. The answer he has for that is, well... morbid, and even to his general sharp sensibilities, mean. Mean enough that he actually has enough forethought not to speak it as he puffs out the rest and takes another pull.]
If I had an urge to quit [ Which he does not as a point of fact since he doesn't smoke all that regularly; he'd needed a bit to steady out and like a man might decide to have a drink with dinner, thus had he pulled out the pack] I should think it might come some ways behind the rather pressing issues we are currently focused upon. Both in priority and in potential lethality.
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[ it's not really the same, but it's the best he can come up with off the cuff. he slips his hands back into his pockets, feeling weirdly closed off, and falls into awkward silence.
despite everything, jon really is a mystery to him. parts of him are, at least.
finally, uncomfortably, he'll gesture ahead. ]
That's it, right?
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Unless another restaurant decided to steal their sign, I would assume so.
[ He only sounds a little gruff as he says it; there's some embarassment in there, something he never does well with, and some feelings of having his hand bit off for trying to extend it a little.
Thankfully, the place does not look crowded and Jon practically charges forward down the block towards it with a purposeful and perhaps even angry sort of gait. The host or hostess might get used to blunt his frustrations a little when he gets there.]
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their waiter is smiley and bouyant as he takes their drink orders and heads off to fill them. ]
The menu looks good. Um. We could split an appetizer.
[ a hesitant olive branch. he wants it to be a nice lunch. :c ]
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[ Muttered under his breath, because he's still feeling a little wounded from earlier and it never does well by him. He is actually being cordial, if tight with the wait staff. And he forces himself, after a short huff, to give Martin an actual answer. ]
Whatever you think looks good.
[ He's going to use the menu to hide behind so he can brood for a few minutes, lick his wounds a bit. It wasn't easy for him to- that didn't make it- there was no excuse for it, really, he was being childish, he knew that, but it stung and he's never had much reason not to lash out and take his pound of flesh right back when someone made him feel like that. It's what happens when you don't have many friends.
As it is, he swallows and he manages to put something light in his tone to take the bite out of- ]
You won't come after me for having a drink, will you?
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[ because jon doesn't have a whole lot of things that are just his own anymore, does he? his reaction had been a kneejerk one, fueled by surprise, and he felt a little bad about it now.
the waiter returns with water for them both; martin waits for jon to order his drink, before martin places one of his own.
the waiter, attractive in a generic sort of way, winks and tells him good choice before leaving them a little more time with the menu, and martin finds himself weirdly embarrassed. ]
Customer service is, um, really friendly here.
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You do recall our talk this morning.
[ aka, you're welcome to flirt back, is what he's trying to say there. Not that he's being very obvious about it the way he's watching the waiter as he swoops around the tables doing his job like a perfectly normal wai-
Dammit, he's being paranoid again. Ugh. He really will need that drink. HE's glad he ordered it.
After a minute or so of silence, Jon does actually speak up again.]
I only have one every few days or so. It's hardly... worrysome.
[ An olive branch. A tentative one and to be fair, one that could just as easily blow up as anything else since his back is up but it's an attempt.]
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the remark catches him off guard, though, and he actually takes a moment to parse the meaning behind it. ]
I appreciate you- wingmanning for me, Jon, but he's just being nice.
[ the waiter does return to take their order. he compliments the design on martin's shirt, asks if he and his friend are in town long. martin is a little flustered when he places his order and turns back to jon as the young man leaves. ]
You don't have to justify smoking to me. I just - you know how much I worry about things.
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[ Why had he thought to- not justify himself, because he summarily wouldn't, in fact doesn't, to anyone, not unless his back is put to a wall. He is who and what he is, even if that 'what' occasionally scares him, and he's never asked for permission or begged for forgiveness for it. Even with Georgie; it was, he thought, one of the reasons why they were such good friends even now.
When things had ended, it was because they'd realized they were better friends than anything else. Not because they 'couldn't make it work' but because it wasn't going to. And he'd been up front with her about it when she'd made her comments and they'd moved on instead of an extended period of awkward cowed attempts at reconciliation. It was... cleaner. More real.
He was who he was. And those who didn't like it, well... that was their business. Their right. He wouldn't try and woo them by being something else.
He clears his throat.]
-why I thought to let you know. No... three pack a day habit or anything. That is all I meant by it.
[ He likes to be precise, exact, and sometimes that exactness comes off as harshness. It isn't, at least not right this moment. It's just exactness, so Martin knows precisely what he was doing and why.
...for all that, he's very pleased to get his drink and a long sip has the warmth burning down his throat and down his back.]
Have you looked at the cheescakes yet?
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no amount of pride could fully bridge the personality difference between himself and the archivist, however. it would never be pride that managed to do that.
he takes a pull from his own drink. ]
Yeah. There's a caramel one. Do you like caramel?
[ what kind of sweets does jon enjoy? he has no idea, but lord does he want to. ]
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Carmel, but not by itself. Especially salted.
[ He's a little distracted as he looks through.]
Might be good with the bite of cheesecake-
[ He's more muttering to himself than he is actually answering Martin. Sorry. ]
Mango key lime could be quite good... oooh, they have a lemon meringue. Hmm. [ His nose scrunches in distaste. ] Banana cream. Or maybe- lemon raspberry?
[ He looks up then at Martin, clearly intent on the subject.]
Were you thinking the salted caramel or the dulce de leche?
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[ there's a weird, protective little tightness in his chest while jon peruses the menu. he wants to be able to do this with him. he wants to live a life where jon is safe and free to spend as much time as he could ever want being critical of different cheesecake toppings.
he tries not to let himself look too fond. ]
It smells great in here.
[ smalltalk is weird. ]
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I would have to agree with you.
[ He looks down at the list. ]
Would you be willing to accept a portion of lemon raspberry in exchange?
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[ martin will busy himself by taking another pull from his drink, halfway through the sip when the waiter returns with a plate of appetizers. he makes some recommendations, then touches martin's arm and asks about england, talks about the study abroad he did there in college.
martin is blushing just slightly by the time he leaves, and he frowns at jon. ]
He's paid to be nice. Don't say a word.
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He's not examining that right now. He's far too busy putting the effort into not opening his mouth and doing something that he'd regret. Instead, he looks at the appetizers, finds one that seems to be about his speed, and puts it very firmly into his mouth as if daring Martin to complain about his behavior.]
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[ not that martin would ever, ever go home with some stranger from a restaurant, but he is still weirdly uncomfortable about this happening in front of jon, of all people in the world.
they have the world to worry about. this is dumb.
he scrubs his fingers through his hair, then blurts: ]
Two drinks is fine, right?
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Ugh. Be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice. They're headed back to a relatively small hotel room where they're going to have to share a bed (which he's not dreading nearly as much as he feels he ought to) and he'd rather not have another awkward evening. ]
I don't recall withdrawing my statement.
[ Every word is enunciated to the brink of death. He lets out a huff. The words after that are in a rush, practically muttered. ]
You said he was just being nice.
[ AKA it seemed like you weren't interested. Not that he... cares. Who Martin is interested in. He doesn't. That would be ridiculous. And like he'd said earlier, he'd be more than happy to clear out of the room for a bit, maybe find a pub, maybe just see if there's a library open or a book store, if that's what it takes. Really, Martin. You're reading a lot into all this.
He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. ]
And you're welcome to get what you like, Martin, as long as I don't have to carry you back.
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Besides, we're here for work, even if I was... inclined. Which I'm not. Think dating is sort of out of the question where we work. Even long distance.
[ it is possible that he's just gently rambling. ]
Dangerous, you know? I couldn't stand getting anyone else getting dragged in with me.
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Well, let's say nonexistent.
The thing is, though, that Martin's flashed a question in front of his eyes, one he can ask without breaking the promise he made. And having denied himself the last few times, and with at least a drink or two in him, it's like having waved a red flag in front of a bull. The words slip out with the subtle buzz of Power beneath them.]
What is your type, Martin?
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[ it's such a natural follow up question that it doesn't even occur to him that there might be something compelling him to speak. he picks at another piece of mozzarella and shrugs one shoulder gently. ]
Kindness, I guess? Empathy. Intelligence. And- people who are calm, I guess. It's... soothing to be around. I worry a little much sometimes.
[ he's staring at the food, expression a little distant. ]
What about you, Jon?
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He listens to the description, nodding along because that all sounds very nice, of course. Simple. Martin-y in a way that isn't grating. He thinks of all the people that they know, all the people he's ever heard Martin talk about (and he listens more than most people realize even if he doesn't always acknowledge their words) and he again cannot imagine who Martin has his feelings for.
When he gets the question back, he starts with a low, dark chuckle full of wry self-depreciation.]
Generally, anyone willing to put up with my nonsense. [ He considers some of the other factors. ] Somewhat intellectual... or at least someone who knows what a book is. Warmth. Strength. [ He pauses. ] But not the flashy kind. The quiet sort. Resilience, I suppose. It's... always been rather individual, to be honest.
More about the person than th-the credentials, as it were.
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The, um, 'person'?
[ he heard 0 pronouns in that description. he's just. checking. ]
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Yes. Person. Gender's never been much of a concern for me.
[ He thought he'd covered that a bit earlier but apparently not. He's certainly never made a secret of it. ]
I don't- that is, [ He actually, well, there may be the slightest bit of pink to his cheeks as his head tilts down a little. He's only really discussed this with Georgie because he'd had to, for obvious reasons. He suspects Tim is aware. Sasha, he thinks, knew. Melanie probably knows, just from Georgie. But it doesn't exactly come up. It just isn't a huge part of his life.] I don't- with anyone. In the, er, physical sense. But when it comes to a relationship, it's, ah, about the person. As it were.
[ He has. He's tried it. It's just not... he doesn't really get anything out of it. Less than if he takes care of matters for himself and adding that into a relationship is...
He'd just rather not, is all.]
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martin can feel his whole face heating up, because never in his entire life did he think he would actually be discussing this topic with jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute, london.
he finishes off his drink, just because he isn't sure what else to say immediately. thankfully, their actual meal arrives to take up some of that space. ]
Thank you. For, um- for sharing. For trusting me with that knowledge. I appreciate it.
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