[ This is winter morning in Chicago from the fiftieth floor of a glass and steel building on Michigan Avenue. John's internal alarm clock went off at 6:15 AM, undaunted by the hangover. He's washed up in the executive bathroom, lights dimmed low to save his eyes and to keep the mirror there dark. He's not ready for his reflection yet.
The suit he's changed into looks fit for a funeral, and his expression is not much better. The regret, far subsumed under the stoic surface, burns him to the point of pain. The full weight of how dangerous and foolish last night was is a heavy stone in his gut.
This is going to be a hell of a thing to explain to Gard and Hendricks when they arrive. ]
[ He's already drained one bottle of water and taken aspirin when Harry finally wakes up. It's hard to miss, with that exclamation. John's always enjoyed waking up with the city, feeling his heart rate climb while watching the L rumble by, the foot traffic on Wabash and Lake slowly rise. But for Dresden, he presses the button on the wall that drops the blinds from the ceiling, covering the windows and killing the sunlight.
He can see Dresden looking for things that aren't there and sighs. ] They are on the table above you. [ Along with another bottle of water and three pain pills. ]
[ And he may as well get this over with. Rip it off like a bandage. ] The price of the protection and hospitality of the Freeholding of Chicago is paid and no recourse will be sought. Any words or actions that have transpired will be kept in confidence until such time as you break that confidence. You have twenty-four hours of assured non-hostilities. [ John recites with all the enthusiasm of someone reading aloud tax code. It's all by rote, given to him by the team of lawyers who he's paid to be experts on the Accords.
There. He's done what he's had to. God willing, Dresden will be too hungover or to taken aback to give him lip. John's not in the mood. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
and tbh John is stupider when sober, so
Date: 2012-11-05 03:17 pm (UTC)The suit he's changed into looks fit for a funeral, and his expression is not much better. The regret, far subsumed under the stoic surface, burns him to the point of pain. The full weight of how dangerous and foolish last night was is a heavy stone in his gut.
This is going to be a hell of a thing to explain to Gard and Hendricks when they arrive. ]
[ He's already drained one bottle of water and taken aspirin when Harry finally wakes up. It's hard to miss, with that exclamation. John's always enjoyed waking up with the city, feeling his heart rate climb while watching the L rumble by, the foot traffic on Wabash and Lake slowly rise. But for Dresden, he presses the button on the wall that drops the blinds from the ceiling, covering the windows and killing the sunlight.
He can see Dresden looking for things that aren't there and sighs. ] They are on the table above you. [ Along with another bottle of water and three pain pills. ]
[ And he may as well get this over with. Rip it off like a bandage. ] The price of the protection and hospitality of the Freeholding of Chicago is paid and no recourse will be sought. Any words or actions that have transpired will be kept in confidence until such time as you break that confidence. You have twenty-four hours of assured non-hostilities. [ John recites with all the enthusiasm of someone reading aloud tax code. It's all by rote, given to him by the team of lawyers who he's paid to be experts on the Accords.
There. He's done what he's had to. God willing, Dresden will be too hungover or to taken aback to give him lip. John's not in the mood. ]