TLV: IC Inbox

[statementfuckingends]

You've reached Timothy Stoker, leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you.

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[mrballisticsdummy]

[Jacobi shows up there a while later, hands in his pockets, looking contrite.]

Hey.

[He's at least trying to be good.]

[statementfuckingends]

[Tim had been visibly relaxed through the doors of the spa, but as soon as Jacobi walks in he goes stiff and still. Puts down the book he was reading and sits properly at the desk to meet Jacobi's eyes with a horrible ambivalence.

The bruise is now a deep, ugly purple along most of his cheek and jaw.]

What is it, Jacobi?

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He walks to the desk and eyes the bruise with a wince that he doesn't bother hiding.]

Tim.

[There's none of his normal playfulness. None of his bravado. None of that. Just Jacobi. There's nothing else he can really say except:]

I'm sorry.

[statementfuckingends]

[Tim blinks, and an eyebrow raises a fraction.

Honestly, that came a lot faster than he expected.

He stands up, leaning both hands on the desk, and with their height difference that puts him about level with Jacobi's eyes.]

Then stop lying to me.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[The sorry part is easy enough. Because he is. He regretted hurting Tim almost the night that he did it. It was like when Maxwell got upset with him. When she yelled at him in the module. And he hadn't even hurt her. But he reacted the same.]

Lying about what?

[Because if they have to go back to talking about Elias, he doesn't know if he can handle it.]

[statementfuckingends]

You can't act like everything's just okay when you're upset. Not when what you do is hurt people.

[His voice is still flat as he pushes himself into standing up straight. He's not a particularly threatening sight in slacks and a lime green Hawaiian shirt but he's also not fucking around.]

I'm not expecting you to just gush your deepest, darkest fears at me. But we're not going to get anywhere if you don't tell me the truth. I don't care if you lie to Jon or Kepler or anyone else. Just not me.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[Jacobi doesn't get intimidated easily, and there's nothing really intimidating about Tim at the moment, but there is something about Tim that he doesn't want to cross at the moment. Because he respects him. Maybe it's a residual 'Tim is the boss' feeling, or a genuine respect, but either way, Jacobi nods.

Stops himself from the 'yes, sir.']

Yeah, alright.

[It still somehow sounds like 'yes, sir.']

[statementfuckingends]

[He doesn't miss the 'yes boss' intonation, and his flat look turns into a glower.]

I don't want to give you orders, Jacobi. I want to be able to trust you to respect what I'm asking because I'm your fucking friend. [He folds his arms.] Don't make me. We'll both just be miserable.

[Because he knows, if he makes it an order, Jacobi will do it. And that's a problem, because he's been chewing on it for a while and knows exactly how to word it if Jacobi pushes hims to do it.]

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He doesn't know why he gets the glower and so he gets a confused look in return. At least until Tim keeps talking. And then he sighs. And groans. Fucker.

He considers just being shitty again, but decides that Tim is owed this much. Tim deserves an explanation.]

Tim, you're telling me that it's okay to lie to my - to Kepler and my friend but that it's not okay to lie to you. The only person above my relationships? The person who gives me orders.

[statementfuckingends]

[...okay that's a valid point, actually, and it takes a lot of the stiffness out of his mood. He fucked that a little.]

I mean, ideally I'd rather you not lie to any of them. Didn't mean for it to come out like you should, that's on me. My point was more, if you keep lying to me - as your warden - we're just going to go nowhere faster.

[He unfolds his arms and puts his weight on one hip as he tucks his thumb into the same-side pocket. A lot more at ease now, but still serious.]

But you can't seriously tell me that you being on a hair trigger like that was any kind of okay. You fucking hit me, Jacobi.

[He's not mad, he's exasperated. And kind of disappointed.]

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He rubs the back of his neck.]

You were shitty, Tim. You were trying to provoke me. I shouldn't have risen to the bait, honestly. It was - rotten bait.

[He's not really sure if that's an apology or an acknowledgement. But it's a step in some direction.]

[statementfuckingends]

Yeah, I was. It was cruel.

[Acknowledgement in return, that it was a shitty thing to play on.]

But if that's how I have to get an honest answer out of you, I'm not even gonna dignify us with a shitty fake promise to never do it again.

So either we talk properly, with our big boy words, or we keep going for the fucking throat and see who goes numb first.

[mrballisticsdummy]

I'm not going to pretend that I like doing this, Tim. I keep my number of friends low for a reason. It's very exhausting to deal with friends. They always need things or want things. I have to deal with their problems or their nonsense. It's exhausting.

But I'm not exactly trying to lose one of them.

So.

[He shifts a bit.]

I, Daniel Kenneth Jacobi, promise to use my big boy words with you instead of going for the throat. And you are owed exactly two retaliation-free hits to be used at any time you deem appropriate.

[statementfuckingends]

Luckily I'm not asking you to like it.

[But the whole formal declaration is... well, he's still vaguely concerned that it's just telling him what he wants to hear (and he's resigned to that being a permanent concern), but at least it's fucking words. He'll take the win.

So he sits back down in his chair with a massive sigh and so much energy that he ends up rolling back a foot or so, hostile energy fully depleted.]

You don't make things half a challenge, you know. Fucking brat.

[Affectionately.]

[mrballisticsdummy]

[Fortunately for Tim, the formal declaration was mostly shitty, mostly teasing, and as Tim accepts it, Jacobi actually snorts out a bit of a laugh.

He sits on the desk in front of him.]

That's what you get for making friends with your inmate. Sorry.

So. Supply list, huh?

[statementfuckingends]

I was friends with you before we got paired, thanks.

[He folds one foot onto his seat and reclines lazily.]

Yup. Mechanical and medical, I'm off to help procure fancy high-tech bullshit from whatever the hell's in charge of those, and hopefully I don't get shot for it or something.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Don't get shot.

But that sounds incredibly boring and right up your alley. I'm sure you'll see Warren doing the same thing. I'm going to see if I can find someone willing to have some actual adventures with me.

Maybe - oh shit. Maybe Alec.

[He seems far too invested in adventures.]

[statementfuckingends]

[That gets an easy grin out of Tim.]

You want me to write you up a permission slip or something? Hall pass for your adventure?

[mrballisticsdummy]

What? You think I can't forge your signature by now?

[He puts his hand on his heart.]

That really hurts, Tim.

[statementfuckingends]

[Tim looks at him with a moment of genuine concern.]

When the hell have you seen my signature?

[mrballisticsdummy]

[Jacobi laughs, giving him a wink.]

I haven't! But I think I've seen you write things down. I can make a pretty decent assumption from your handwriting. You'd be surprised at what I can get away with.

[statementfuckingends]

You say that, but at this point I'm really starting to debate it.

[His best friend is the best fucking asshole.]

See if you can't find me something interesting while you're out, at least. Dealer's choice.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He slides off of the desk.]

I'll get you a keychain, honey, don't worry.

[And, glad that they don't have to talk anymore about Elias and what he wants to do, glad that he's escaped relatively unscathed, Jacobi gives him a wave as he starts to walk off.]

[statementfuckingends]

[And Tim very nearly lets him go, but. This is just airing their own grievances. Not the actual source.]

Yeah, not so fast, Jakey. We're not quite done yet.

[Not cold, he's earned at least a friendly lilt to that call, but a hair sterner.]

[mrballisticsdummy]

[Fuck.

He turns on his heel and comes back, sitting on the desk again, but with less flourish.]

Can't blame a man for trying.