TMA!Jacobi and Jon

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Are you sure this is the place?" he asks the driver, who was already speeding off, leaving Jacobi in front of the old building.

"Thanks for your help!" he calls out with false cheer, rolling his eyes before trudging his way up to what he had been told was the Magnus Institute. He doesn't even flinch at the screech of tires that comes from blocks behind him. He doesn't have to see the car erupt into flames as a very confused driver crawls out and phones for help. That's chaos for someone else.

Instead, he takes the steps up, backpack on his shoulder. He had flown all the way out here, so it's not as if he's going to be missing any leads. Besides. He has an appointment.

The closer to the door he gets, the more uncomfortable he feels about this. It's like a whisper of wind against his skin, a suggestion of something dangerous, but Jacobi's never let something like that bother him. He walks through, hands in his pockets.

Comments

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Whatever you want to answer," he says, finding the table exceptionally interesting.

[epistemological]

Someone's been stuck inside the Institute with no one to talk to for a while since Basira hates him and Melanie can't look at him and hell no is he talking to Helen.

We're not discussing Martin.

"Encounter with the Web when I was eight. A children's book Leitner, if you can believe that. Watched a near grown man be eaten by-"

He shakes that off as he continues to cook.

"Then I came to work here."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Well, now he wants to know what the man was eaten by, but that's not helpful beyond giving Jacobi a more accurate mental picture.

"Why here?"

[epistemological]

"They're probably the most prestigious and well known to have standards to their scholarship... as opposed to being a bunch of conmen seeking funding. I was looking for information and a place to research and it was the best one around."

He'll take the rice off the back burner and fluffs it, letting it sit as he finishes up the rest.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi stands up, restless, and finds a cup and some instant coffee. Nothing good, but it's caffeine.

"Yeah, you sure hit the jackpot with this place," he deadpans, filling the cup with water. Of course, it's steaming by the time he puts it back on the counter.

[epistemological]

"Hindsight is 20/20 for those of the Ceaseless Watcher as well," he says with a grumpy wry expression. But he's going to start plating up the meal for Jacobi. It's all canned and from containers, but it's still damnably well put together for all that.

"How about you?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

He gives Jon a side eye but picks up the plate from him when it's done.

"Accident at the place I was working years ago. A detonator went off early. Killed a couple of people on my watch. Only...it wasn't an accident. Not really."

[epistemological]

Jon will look back at him because he knows it smells good, at least.

"My condolences. I'm assuming that, hmm... your entire life was destroyed in one fell swoop?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Got it in one."

He takes the plate back to the table, picking at it, though he's more interested in the coffee.

"I mean, that's what it was like. And then a series of other life destroying incidences later and here I am at your stupid door."

[epistemological]

"Trying to burn your own heart out," he says before dipping his head towards the plate. "That might do it without the knife if you're really all that interested."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Why do you say that?"

Though, curious now, he actually does try a bite.

[epistemological]

...because it is delicious. But also? Hot as the fires of hell.

"...I wasn't going for that intentionally. I may have forgotten halfway I was cooking for someone else."

[mrballisticsdummy]

It takes him half a second to process what exactly he just put in his mouth, and he actually laughs.

"Shit. Do you actually eat like this?"

But it does entice him to try more.

[epistemological]

"...I grew up in a house hold that was careful with the black pepper," he explains with a wry smile, "and read a copy of a rather famous Indian cook book with rapt curiosity. Once I was cooking for myself, I put those lessons into practice. And given that the greatest appeal for me in food is something that reminds me to keep eating, the heat kept going up and up and... well, that's about where I am now."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"How fortunate for me," he snickers, picking up the fork again and pushing it around his plate. "Do you know what space does to your taste buds? Makes everything bland. Something about gravity and fluids. So it's just a chore to keep up appearances."

He sits back. "But that is a neat trick. Making it hot as fuck."

[epistemological]

That's a snort.

"No 'trick' to it other than seasoning," he says mildly before scratching at his ear. "I can make something more mild for you if you'd like."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Really? That's your offering? To me?"

He shakes his head. "No. It's fine. It's actually kind of nice? I guess?"

He sits back. "So you're really going to just keep it around, huh?"

[epistemological]

"I am really going to insist you keep your heart in you, yes," he says gently, more gently then he's spoken before.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Is that a requirement forever or if I come back tomorrow, will you change your mind?"

He tries to laugh, but it's hollow. "Why do you even care this much?"

[epistemological]

"I'm afraid I won't change my mind," he says as he peers over at Jacobi. Then he breathes out. "And I care because... because..."

A glance.

"Will you believe the real answer or do you only want the selfish part?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"I will listen to the real answer, yeah," he says, unable to promise belief. It takes a lot for him to believe anything anymore.

[epistemological]

"The first part," he says with a faint dip of his head, "is selfish. I don't think it's fair that you'd get to continue on, not feeling the pain after having lost people when I'm stuck still feeling it."

Being honest here, okay?

"And there's another part of me that feels as if it's only fair that we have to live with our hearts, with our pain, if we're going to be as we are, if we're going to- well, to feed our patrons no doubt harming others."

His shoulders drop a little.

"...but I also happen to like you and it seems like you're the first person I've just... enjoyed talking to since I died and then woke up from a coma and I don't want to lose that."

[mrballisticsdummy]

The selfish answer makes a whole lot more sense than the rest. He doesn't even want to think too hard on what is fair. He wants to thibk even less about someone enjoying his company.

He puts his hand to the coffee cup, but it steams, boils, and he shakes his head, curls falling in his face.

"Fuck that. Fuck what's fair? Do you know what's fair? I don't go through all the shit I went through just to come home with nothing. That would be fair. You didn't go through all the shit you went through, just to be standing here. That would be fair."

[epistemological]

"And-" he continues, his tone very quiet, "I... I genuinely think it will only make things worse for you. Only make things harder for you."

He looks over at Jacobi and without fear, he'll reach over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It would only leave you more hollow. More lost. You won't understand why you're constantly, desperately needing to destroy, to consume, to rip and tear and hurt, but even then, it won't make you feel better."

[mrballisticsdummy]

He's warm to the touch. Exceptionally so. That doesn't change, but he does look up to him.

"So if nothing will make it better, then why is this existence of knowing any more desirable, hm?"

He stands up, moving away from his hand as he grabs his backpack.

"I have an appointment with a very short building with a very big, important basement."

But he does pause, tapping his fingertips against the straps. "I'll be back tomorrow."

As uncomfortable as it makes him, he likes being here. He likes being around him. He's not willing to give that up.