[For a moment there's the sound of a pencil scribbling on paper, but he pauses, takes a drag off his cigarette. The page rustles as he turns it
( Read more... )
Every time she comes near me, I- [makes a strangled noise, complete with odd hand motion, and stops talking. He takes a second to compose himself, covering it with a long drag from the cigarette] ... Give'er one'a those puppies. Keep her occupied. [stops talking, but suddenly adds] AND CRAYONS. She needs new crayons.
Well, if I give her a puppy, I'm going to have to help her with it, and you're the one who knows dogs, so...
[His voice fades out--he gets the feeling that this train of thought is a futile one, so he shrugs his shoulders with a little sigh and looks worriedly at Sinclair.]
[shaky, both visibly and in tone] Thank you, son. [pauses uneasily] You... don't really understand what's goin' on, I'm sure, and I'm sorry for that, but.. not yet. Not yet. [starts to wander, dazed, back to his room, staring numbly at the ground]
... [stares at him for what seems forever, and gives the tiniest little ghost of a smile] ... heh. Thanks for the concern, but I'm sure... [doesn't mean to trail off, for once, and simply sighs after realizing it]
[He thinks about it for a good moment. He tells himself to accept because caffeine kills the EVE cravings, and his head is pounding, but he knows he's starting to somewhat enjoy Jack's company.] ... Alright, son. [He sounds damn tired - looks it, too. Damn Sister.] But just for a little bit.
[Jack agrees readily, taking Sinclair by the arm and leading him toward the stairs.]
Just a little bit, right.
[It doesn't matter how long, as long as he can get Sinclair out of this mood and back to himself. Seeing the older man so shaken disturbs him.
He shepherds Sinclair down to the kitchen, keeping close, somewhat protective. Once there, he guides the older man to a chair and goes to make the coffee, which he brews stronger than he ordinarily would.]
There. See if that doesn't get your head back on straight.
[He follows Jack silently, and says nothing until he takes a sip of the coffee. Immediately, he splutters and coughs, grinning.] Now that's coffee, son. Not like that watered-down Rapture travesty.
...She's not sure whether she'll upset you more or not, but she's REALLY sorry still.]
Reply
[He frowns, watches Sinclair nervously.]
I can't make her do anything, but I could talk to her.
Reply
Reply
Well, if I give her a puppy, I'm going to have to help her with it, and you're the one who knows dogs, so...
[His voice fades out--he gets the feeling that this train of thought is a futile one, so he shrugs his shoulders with a little sigh and looks worriedly at Sinclair.]
Right. Crayons. I can do that.
Reply
Reply
[Concerned, Jack makes a grab for his wrist.]
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Why don't you come downstairs and have some coffee, instead?
[His tone is almost coaxing, which sounds strange and out-of-place from him.]
Reply
Reply
Just a little bit, right.
[It doesn't matter how long, as long as he can get Sinclair out of this mood and back to himself. Seeing the older man so shaken disturbs him.
He shepherds Sinclair down to the kitchen, keeping close, somewhat protective. Once there, he guides the older man to a chair and goes to make the coffee, which he brews stronger than he ordinarily would.]
There. See if that doesn't get your head back on straight.
Reply
Reply
Better?
Reply
Reply
[Pause]
You looked like I felt when I found out about...everything.
Reply
Leave a comment