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

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A small snort.

"Hardly. I'm-" he blushes a little, "I died... quite topped up. To put it frankly."

Which is why he'll turn his eyes on Tim, focusing for a moment before he asks his Question:

"Do you remember anything about the person who killed you?"

It's only because he's pressed against Tim that Jon will feel him tighten for a moment against that pervasive lure, before he breathes out slowly and relaxes into it.

"I genuinely didn't see him coming up on me. I thought it was Misty." Which says a lot on its own. "They were strong, given how they knocked me out almost completely in one hit, cracked my actual skull open." And the memory of it makes that point twinge, and he lifts a hand to rub it automatically.

"They were... tall. Hips might’ve been about the same spot against the massage table as mine were, maybe six foot, something close. Male, narrow hips." He moves the rubbing to his face, running over both eyes with one hand. "I don't think I got a good look at his face, not from the way I was lying. I couldn't really move and when I tried he broke my arm. And when that made me yell he broke my jaw to shut me up."

Oh God, wait-- he tries to clench his teeth to keep the words in but he's already on a roll: "His fingers felt... felt pretty slender when he was-- opening my mouth, but the only thing I remember after that is choking as he-- he cut my tongue out."

Misty had been his first concern. After all, she'd been the one who just a few weeks before had been champing at the bit to go after him. As soon as he comes out with the size, the gender, the description of the hands, he starts analyzing-

Which goes right out the window when Tim continues and gets to the part about cutting his tongue out. And the anger burns hot for a moment before flipping over into the cold, seething rage that has only been seen by one person ever.

"I see."

Edited 2022-08-28 05:03 (UTC)

Jon doesn't get angry. So seeing that shift on his face, that sudden coldness practically radiating from him is all sorts of concerning, and he shifts to face Jon fully, like he's going to bloody well bodyslam him into the bed to keep him there if he has to.

"Jon, it's fine. There's other people looking into it, and I'm okay now."

If Jon was upset, there'd be a blustery lie and some fussing about how 'it's not fine' but right now, instead, there is a single glance up, meeting Tim's eyes, and a nod. A simple nod.

"Yes, of course."

He closes his eyes and makes his shoulder sink again, lets himself lean up against Tim. It's fine. All forgotten. Tim's fine now. Obviously.

He can't help but squint at Jon, for letting that go so easily. Because that- just agreeing with him? Is definitely not how Jon rolls. Jon doesn't let things go. This is not dropped, and there's a part of Tim that is pre-emptively despairing for whatever poor bastard did this to him, for having upset Jon about it.

He just lets a long sigh out, and slides back down into a more comfortable position, so he can wrap his arm around Jon's shoulder again and relax into it.

"I'm just glad I've got you back," he says quietly.

There's an affirmative noise from him as well as he sinks into the arm around him, lets himself melt a little with his eyes closed.

I don't like who I am without you all.

"As am I."

So it's settled for now, if nothing else.

Tim doesn't bother with more words. He just leans another soft kiss again Jon's hair, and starts gently carding through it with his fingers again. Something to coax his friend into much-needed sleep.

Jon won't resist long at all. Instead, it'll be just a couple of minutes before his breathing goes regular and it's clear he's sleeping.

Peacefully.

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