[ John returns Dresden's smile in kind, but darker and far more predatory. Though Dresden's always been refreshingly immune to such posturing, old habits die hard and this is a dance they've done before. ] See this from my point of view, Harry. It is a very rare thing to have you in my presence both voluntarily and without clear and present danger. Do you fault me for taking advantage? I would have thought you'd be the last person to do that.
[ He returns to his desk briefly, just long enough to shoot off a message to his PA, a summons for food. ] Now now, you're already infringing on my hospitality, why not do it all the way? I'll pay.
[ Lazily, he gestures between the two of them, heedless of that insanely predatory smile. If anything, it stirs him to act out a little more. The most he moves is to twist at the hip so he can keep an eye on The Devil Wears Armani and scowl after him. Fine, if he was going to play hardball, Harry'd be stashing his twenty somewhere in the room to be found at a later date. ] So, we're actually taking advantage of each other? Nifty.
Wake me when the food's here. [ like hell if he's actually going to do anything but close his eyes and play pretend while in Marcone's company ]
[ That crack about his height was uncalled for, Dresden. Not everyone can be as absurdly tall as you. Since his back's to Dresden, John indulges in an eye roll.
There is enough time to power on his computer and print out the Malk report before food shows up. One upside of owning almost every building on the block is speedy delivery from the tenants. John would never confirm or deny that the excellent Thai place at street level was part of why he purchased this building.
Once food arrives, John puts it on the table nearest Harry and shakes the wizard's shoulder, gently, just in case he is actually asleep. ]
[ Yes, but the opportunity presented itself, and Harry's a bit of an opportunist when it comes to getting under your skin, Marcone. Even if it means he'll get it in spades later, or taken out of his hide even.
Harry doesn't plan to sleep, since he's not that comfortable in the Baron's presence (that one he's particularly aware of, and can't help but be attentive towards), but neither was he able to guess that Marcone'd be giving him a shake awake. The result is a twitch of his knee, the back of his hand automatically flying back to smack the hand away defensively, before he remembers where he is and takes stock of everything. ]
Oh hell, [ he tries for casual, and fumbles for the Thai. ] That smells delicious, come to papa.
[ John smiles, this time a lot less threatening. The smell of fresh food will do that to anyone. He settles in on the opposite side of the coffee table from Harry and unpacks the containers from the white plastic bag they arrived in. ]
There's Pad Thai, satay, a few curries... [ There is also duck bame, but John liberates that for himself the moment he spots it; that he is not sharing. ] And some Thai iced tea, if you like.
[ He sits up, swinging his legs off the couch and onto the floor before he stretches out for the food. If someone had told him he'd be having an impromptu meal with John fucking Marcone at some point that day, he'd have laughed. But food was food, and he needed to buy himself a little more time to think and gather his wizardy wits about him before walking out that front door. ]
You know it was just because you were the closest, yeah? [ He mutters it around a mouthful of noodles, swallows, and looks across the table pointedly. Who are you trying to convince, Harry? Then a sly smirk: ] Thanks for the grub, though.
[ John considers the wizard on his floor for a moment, thinking about height differences and how he'd much prefer easier eye contact. Nathan would call it an unhealthy obsession, how much John goes out of his way to lock eyes with Dresden like a right of conquest. Luckily, Nathan isn't here to stop John from being ridiculous.
He slides off his suit jacket, slings it along the back of a chair, then slides to the ground in an almost conspicuously graceful manner. His legs fold into a loose lotus, and he resumes tucking into his bame. ]
I didn't ask, but if you say so. [ John's lips twitch. The wizard doth protest so very loudly. ] Thank you for the excuse. Without your interruption, I was due for a financial briefing. [ A wince. ]
[ Tucking his knees under the table awkwardly, Harry sticks his elbows on the table and tucks into the rest of the food with such a voracity and disregard for table manners that someone who did not know him might have thought he was raised. Employing that age old method of "eat everything lest someone take it away", he kept his mouth full (and himself quiet), because otherwise he was going to keep making smart quips and sharp digs at Marcone. The so-called "least favorite" that he was having a damn meal with. It was a little disturbing. Not to mention the way the man kept staring. In return, he kept avoiding the eye contact, save for when he would pull faces at his host. ]
Just a disclaimer. [ Considering it was just plain weird, especially when he began to think about it. ] Gee, John. You lead such a wild and colorful life. Financial briefings, tell me more! Especially about the part with all the numbers and paperwork.
[ Watching Dresden move is oddly fascinating. John's never had the opportunity, given how most of their meetings involve hurling insults for ten minutes before parting ways or being pre-occupied with some fatal danger. Dresden moves like Jack Skellington had drunk enough to forget how motor functions worked.
God, what was Dresden like when drunk? Did his legs just give out for the rest of his body's own good?
John's so intently considering that he almost misses what's being said. ]
Well, there are only so many priceless Catholic relics I can get my hands on. [ A long sip of Thai tea. ] I don't keep track of much of the numbers. That's what the accounting department is for. Or are you looking for freelance work? [ John's fairly sure Dresden barely manages his taxes in the electronic age... ]
[ That's right, neither of them have really had a chance to sit, size each other up, take note of habits or quirks. Just a cursory, surface reading, and a whole lot of judgments based on hearsay when it came to their unique talents. I don't really know him, Harry thinks to himself. Followed up, with the usually not that I want to yeah right ha ha. Hah.
Maybe you ought to get him drunk sometime and see for yourself, John. ]
... are you Catholic? [ It's a very sudden question, but all Harry can remember is the way the man bowed his head over that girl and how private a moment that was. He'd felt like an intruder, and remembered John's reaction. A bone-chillingly direct death threat, and Harry didn't doubt him for a moment. ] I do my own taxes anyways. I can tie my own shoes too. Why, you want me to file all your paperwork?
[ The question is so absurd, John can't quite squash the bemused look that crosses his face. He thinks its a set-up for a joke but... apparently not. Hm. John finishes his drink down to the point it makes that irritating sucking noise. Thai iced tea is too delicious for delicacy. ] I am a third generation Italian South Side boy, Harry. And if one were to commission the theft of an object of faith, I'm told its best to choose one from your own faith.
I dread to think of the creative ways you'd destroy hard copy. The IRS doesn't accept 'a troll ate my files' as an excuse.
It's a valid question! [ If John laughs, Harry swears he's going to declare war, using whatever was left of the Thai food as artillery. ] You could have gone after some other artifact of power and we'd have probably never collided. I mean, I can understand why you picked that one, I just didn't know if it was a personal decision.
[ There's a faint smirk that accompanies the thought of Harry's destructive habits: ] You really should see my resume.
It was a personal matter, [ John says, softer now. Here are the deepest secrets. At least they are mutual. John has seen the wizard's soul, and that alone makes it all right for Harry to have seen John's greatest shame. But their relationship, antagonistic as it is, has always been been built on mutual understanding and trust.
John doesn't want to go down that dark line of thought, not tonight. Leave the self-flagellation for later. He gets up instead, disposes of some of the empty take-out containers. On his way back, he diverts to his sidebar. ] What is your poison, Harry? Figuratively, I mean. I'm out of arsenic, unfortunately.
I have, in a sense. My contractor has a file on you. Extremely impressive, if volatile.
I figured. [ Especially when, you know, he bore witness to what he did. Harry ground the back of his knuckles against his mouth, silenced by the admission, by the knowledge that he'd understood that much, even without it having to be said. Disorienting, yes. Strangely comforting, yes. Unwanted, no. ] Why don't you do what you're good at, John: surprise me. On the rocks, if possible.
[ In the meanwhile, he's going to wrestle his duster off and shove it up onto the couch. They both know at least a hundred ways they could off each other, body armor and magic be damned. ] If you're talking about the stint I did in Toledo, that wasn't my fault. I told him if he started it, I'd finish it. And I am a man of my word.
[ That John can do. He loads two tumblers with ice and hooks his fingers in them, carrying a full bottle in his other hand as he saunters back over and collapses back to the ground. ] My contractor gave me this as congratulations on joining the Accords. I imagine it'd be appropriate to share you you. [ Because John Marcone is nothing if he is not sickly sentimental. The bottle's label isn't in English, the lettering closer to futhark runes than anything, and there is no date on the label. When he pulls the cork, it smells of honey. ]
You are little else. [ Dry, dry as the mead he pours for them. ]
[ Reaching out, Harry takes a hold of the base and twists the bottle around, trying to get a better look at the label, before deeming it good enough for consumption that evening. ] Oh, stuff the pomp and circumstance and give me a glass before the ice melts.
[ Forever ruining all John's moments: that would be the wizard currently leaning all over the table with cockeyed leers and a permanent dare in his voice. At least he's not getting grabby, though his initial acceptance of the alcohol is peppered with apprehension. He's got to be careful. No sense in inhibiting his senses, not when whatever he'd sought refuge from was still out there, presumably still waiting. He didn't know for sure, and it made him twitchy. A drink to calm the nerves, if anything. More like, 'give him a glass before he changes his mind.' ]
I only mean to show appreciation for your help. [ John still has a photocopy of the Signatory paperwork in his private safe. Oh, sentimentality. Sometimes it is all you have. ]
[ John takes the first sip, just in case that arsenic jab was enough to make Dresden paranoid. No poison, just hops and honey and whatever else Donar puts in his personal store of alcohol. ] I was expecting sweeter... [ It's good though, but somewhat outside his palate, cultivated on cheap stolen beer of his childhood and the distastefully expensive wine from his fancy dress affairs of adulthood.
It's very good, actually, and John forces himself to take it slowly. He can tell this bottle will get him in trouble if he's not careful; Donar's idea of good-natured meddling, no doubt. Slow sips, and finally unfolds his legs to stretch them out under the table. His shoes come off easily with a push at the heels, and John meets Dresden's eyes to see if he'll say anything.
Mutual understand and corkscrew trust, John thinks idly. ]
We cut a deal, asshole. [ Harry finally snaps, an inevitable response to the all-too careful banter. Like they're dancing around a knife's edge, and it'd be a bold lie if Marcone couldn't supply the blade from somewhere on his person. ] I didn't do it to help you any more than I did it to help them. And look where it got you, anyways.
[ John might take the first drink, but Harry is going to end up going through his own first. Apparently, he's so used to throwing back ale and beer that he doesn't know how to appreciate a fine mead. He just tips it back, drinks it down to buy himself as much time as possible before he has to rejoin the conversation and comes up for air by the time John's got his shoes off and gee fucking whiz it really is a slumber party. ]
[ This time, he keeps his eyes on Marcone's and reaches down to wrestle battered Chuck Taylors off his own feet. Anything you can do, I can do too. ]
[ Oh, the grin on John's face is obscene in its glee. If the lights overhead were not flickering slightly, John would push that button. He's point out that when Harry Dresden needs a favor from someone who won't stab him in the back, he swallows his pride and he calls John. That with ties to every major player in the supernatural game, Harry knocks on John's door. And when John gets an order from Dresden, he delivers, because John's been dealing with adversaries both mortal and not, and no one keeps their word and makes good on a debt like Harry Dresden.
It'd be easy to do that, just say, When our backs are to the wall, who do we call? But he hasn't drunk enough for that.
And the fire in Dresden's eyes is a little too close to the surface. John likes his office, thank you. ]
I don't blame my new position for Archleone's brand of madness, any more than we can blame the Archive for Ivy's ordeal.
[ Harry's inability to not take anything John does as a challenge should not be so endearing. John shakes his head, taking his drink more slowly and chuckles. ] Dear God, it's not strip poker, Dresden, calm down.
((OOC: and I can edit a bit now that I am conscious and aware, yay. god my comments are obnoxiously long. ))
[ Harry practically projects his thoughts. Every twitch in his eyes, the tightening of his mouth, the way his fingers curl into his palms slowly - it's no wonder that it is extremely easy to call him out on lies. He tries so hard, but he can't bury that fire. Wears his emotions out on his sleeves, even when the edges have been burnt and trailed through blood time and time again. It's a bit sick of him, to keep it up. But Harry is, after all, a disjointed man.
Which is part of why John -- composed, placid, lucid, logical, sentimental John -- gets under his skin. Fucking roosts there, on long, dark nights. ]
[ Harry visibly tenses, fingers tightening around the glass as though waiting to call bullshit in lieu of that line of thought. Damn John for his rationality. Damn himself for agreeing, if only because it was easier to find reason to blame himself. His response is sullen: ] It doesn't mean that it hurt any less. I saw you both. Ivy still has nightmares. I can only wonder about you.
[ Pointedly, he sweeps his leg at his shoes, knocking them across the floor and out of his reach. A childish gesture, but one to show he's not backing down. Perhaps he could recall that he hadn't planned on drinking any more than he already had, but by then, Harry was thrusting the tumbler back out in Marcone's direction: ] Hit me again.
[ What a surprise. John had work to do, both mundane and Baronly, but those can all wait in the wake of Dresden gracing him with his presence. Perhaps the man is tired or just satiated on food and drink, but the stark vulnerability... invites the same in kind.
John takes out his phone and sends a message to Hendricks, telling him to go home, that the rest of the night's cancelled, then powers the thing off and, imitating Dresden, swipes the thing with a hand. It spins down the table to the far end, out of reach, stopping just shy of the edge. Precision is capable with everything from knives to words to cell phones. ]
Do you, Dresden? [ John doesn't touch his scarred ear because he knows he doesn't have to if he wants to draw attention to it. Few outside this room know the story behind it, but no one knows it better than Dresden and the Archive. ] What is it that would haunt my dreams? Is it a shooting in Calumet Park, or being hung by my feet while a monster circles? The mundanities of my responsibilities or the extraordinary circumstances with the Denarians?
[ John pours them both measures of mead, silently marveling that Dresden is leading them down this road with the All-Father's special mead. It's one of the more ridiculous things John's witnessed, and it has a lot of competition. ] Do you wonder?
Edited (ALL THE TYPOES) Date: 2012-10-29 10:54 pm (UTC)
[ It seems that each has the others attention now. Shoes off, distractions purged. It's a private sort of moment that causes Harry to shift where he sits, drawing his legs back towards himself. He might not be wearing his coat, but he has several decades of defenses, and not all of them are conscious.
He waits. Until John stops questioning him like he gets off on interrogations, until his glass is full again and Harry can stick a finger in the mead and trace figure-eights through the drink absently. Waiting, contemplating. He takes a look at the supposed meaning in their actions: the cellphone, their shoes, the familiarity of sharing a bottle of rather good alcohol (he likes his drinks sweet, more often than not; primed with saccharine flavors that balance out reality and her bitterness). ] Why are you asking me a question that I already answered, John?
[ With that, he pulls the mead to himself again, cradles it as he takes his time with the second drink. ]
[ This time it's John's turn. He shoots the mead back, silently asking Donar to forgive him for his abuse of such fine alcohol. He imagines Donar would give him this indulgence though. So strange, for a good Catholic boy to be patronized by a Norse god, but that's life now for him.
Now he's made Dresden morose, which wasn't his intention. But then again, what the hell had he intended with any of this? For once he doesn't know. He has plans to kill this man, very meticulous, carefully laid plans. He could do it now, probably, with the wizard in such a state. But, just this once, John is not thinking ahead.
Dresden may be the only person John can afford that luxury with. The amount of trust between them, antagonistic as it is, is terrifying sometimes. Sometimes it's... not.
But anyway. John pours himself another, deciding to keep even with Harry, if only for the sake of fairness. ] Why? I'm not certain.
[ The tumbler spins nicely on the table, as smoothly as the phone did, the rim circling under John's palm. ] I think perhaps I keep asking in hopes you'll give a straight answer sometime. I don't think I've gotten one out of you since we soulgazed. It's a curious thing. You'll trust me with something as important as your life and the lives of your friends, but nothing else.
[ Harry smirks wryly, mouth curving around the rim of the glass. He takes a sip, and sets it down to the side, giving himself room to loosely lace his fingers together as he leans on the surface of the table. ] That's because straight answers will cost you.
[ Says the boy who's got a literal Faerie Godmother. Says the boy who had to train his tongue to speak an entirely new language fluently, to purposefully disengage his brain from mortality in order to cope with the blue-orange mentality of the Sidhe, lest he land himself in hot water. Ah no, a poor example. In the freezer, rather. ]
There shouldn't be such thing as freebies, [ he gestures, wordlessly asking Marcone what he'd ante up for that knowledge. And the moment he hears "as important as your life", he snickers low in his throat, because there isn't any tell better than that. ] Want a hint? You're useful, okay? Useful when applied in the right direction, otherwise you'll catch me in the jugular on the rebound. I'm here because you're useful, and given the choices I had, you were the devil I knew.
[ John takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. This feels vulnerable and it feels dangerous in a way that John hasn't felt since the Denarians abducted him. Looking into Harry's deep brown eyes is like looking down the barrel of a gun in a way that makes his skin prickle from the electric tension.
He also drinks, still matching Harry, and leans forward as well. John's clasped hands almost brush Harry's. Just how far can he goad Dresden? How much will Dresden get out of him? He should take that into consideration. But John's been so careful about everything for so long. ]
I am useful. But so is the Knight's family. [ Ignore the twinge of guilt there. ] So are the rumors of your connections to the White Court. So are Sgt. Murphy and your police allies. So are the ragtag werewolves that call themselves the Alphas. And so, I imagine, are the many other people you've accrued favors from that I haven't heard about in the grapevine.
But here, tonight, with whatever it is you're not telling me about on your heels, you don't vanish into the Ways, as any Council Warden could with Winter's permission. You come to me.
[ John grins, this time without hiding it, enjoying this game too much. ] I think it's more than that. I am the devil you know, but as much as I loathe to admit it, you made me Baron, and don't tell me I was the only option. Or even the cheapest price.
[ That articulated, John picks up his glass, holding it right between the two of them, a silent your move to Dresden, before gunning it back. Finally dropping the facade of easy grace, he lets the tumbler thump back down loudly. ]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-10-28 05:05 am (UTC)[ He returns to his desk briefly, just long enough to shoot off a message to his PA, a summons for food. ] Now now, you're already infringing on my hospitality, why not do it all the way? I'll pay.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-28 06:11 am (UTC)[ Lazily, he gestures between the two of them, heedless of that insanely predatory smile. If anything, it stirs him to act out a little more. The most he moves is to twist at the hip so he can keep an eye on The Devil Wears Armani and scowl after him. Fine, if he was going to play hardball, Harry'd be stashing his twenty somewhere in the room to be found at a later date. ] So, we're actually taking advantage of each other? Nifty.
Wake me when the food's here. [ like hell if he's actually going to do anything but close his eyes and play pretend while in Marcone's company ]
no subject
Date: 2012-10-28 02:51 pm (UTC)There is enough time to power on his computer and print out the Malk report before food shows up. One upside of owning almost every building on the block is speedy delivery from the tenants. John would never confirm or deny that the excellent Thai place at street level was part of why he purchased this building.
Once food arrives, John puts it on the table nearest Harry and shakes the wizard's shoulder, gently, just in case he is actually asleep. ]
so, i'm totally unable to keep away from this thread.
Date: 2012-10-28 09:12 pm (UTC)Harry doesn't plan to sleep, since he's not that comfortable in the Baron's presence (that one he's particularly aware of, and can't help but be attentive towards), but neither was he able to guess that Marcone'd be giving him a shake awake. The result is a twitch of his knee, the back of his hand automatically flying back to smack the hand away defensively, before he remembers where he is and takes stock of everything. ]
Oh hell, [ he tries for casual, and fumbles for the Thai. ] That smells delicious, come to papa.
EXCELLENT. i am so fucking rusty tho ugh
Date: 2012-10-28 11:55 pm (UTC)There's Pad Thai, satay, a few curries... [ There is also duck bame, but John liberates that for himself the moment he spots it; that he is not sharing. ] And some Thai iced tea, if you like.
a bit of oil, a bit of manipulation and you'll be good as new! :D
Date: 2012-10-29 12:43 am (UTC)You know it was just because you were the closest, yeah? [ He mutters it around a mouthful of noodles, swallows, and looks across the table pointedly. Who are you trying to convince, Harry? Then a sly smirk: ] Thanks for the grub, though.
.... fuck that icon should come with a warning
Date: 2012-10-29 12:57 am (UTC)He slides off his suit jacket, slings it along the back of a chair, then slides to the ground in an almost conspicuously graceful manner. His legs fold into a loose lotus, and he resumes tucking into his bame. ]
I didn't ask, but if you say so. [ John's lips twitch. The wizard doth protest so very loudly. ] Thank you for the excuse. Without your interruption, I was due for a financial briefing. [ A wince. ]
his face should come with a damn warning...
Date: 2012-10-29 01:27 am (UTC)Just a disclaimer. [ Considering it was just plain weird, especially when he began to think about it. ] Gee, John. You lead such a wild and colorful life. Financial briefings, tell me more! Especially about the part with all the numbers and paperwork.
... sudden mental "Toxic" by Britney Spears. thanks.
Date: 2012-10-29 01:51 am (UTC)God, what was Dresden like when drunk? Did his legs just give out for the rest of his body's own good?
John's so intently considering that he almost misses what's being said. ]
Well, there are only so many priceless Catholic relics I can get my hands on. [ A long sip of Thai tea. ] I don't keep track of much of the numbers. That's what the accounting department is for. Or are you looking for freelance work? [ John's fairly sure Dresden barely manages his taxes in the electronic age... ]
intoxicate me nowwwwwwwww! you're so welcome.
Date: 2012-10-29 02:28 am (UTC)Maybe you ought to get him drunk sometime and see for yourself, John. ]
... are you Catholic? [ It's a very sudden question, but all Harry can remember is the way the man bowed his head over that girl and how private a moment that was. He'd felt like an intruder, and remembered John's reaction. A bone-chillingly direct death threat, and Harry didn't doubt him for a moment. ] I do my own taxes anyways. I can tie my own shoes too. Why, you want me to file all your paperwork?
now they are warming up and acting cute, d'aw. 83
Date: 2012-10-29 02:46 am (UTC)I dread to think of the creative ways you'd destroy hard copy. The IRS doesn't accept 'a troll ate my files' as an excuse.
gosh, things they should do more often! maybe they'd, idk, GET ALONG?
Date: 2012-10-29 03:42 am (UTC)[ There's a faint smirk that accompanies the thought of Harry's destructive habits: ] You really should see my resume.
the supernatural world lives in fear of them having regular coffee dates
Date: 2012-10-29 03:51 am (UTC)John doesn't want to go down that dark line of thought, not tonight. Leave the self-flagellation for later. He gets up instead, disposes of some of the empty take-out containers. On his way back, he diverts to his sidebar. ] What is your poison, Harry? Figuratively, I mean. I'm out of arsenic, unfortunately.
I have, in a sense. My contractor has a file on you. Extremely impressive, if volatile.
oh god, the image of the coffee dates...
Date: 2012-10-29 04:36 am (UTC)[ In the meanwhile, he's going to wrestle his duster off and shove it up onto the couch. They both know at least a hundred ways they could off each other, body armor and magic be damned. ] If you're talking about the stint I did in Toledo, that wasn't my fault. I told him if he started it, I'd finish it. And I am a man of my word.
I have a weakness for this pairing and coffee shops for some mysterious reason
Date: 2012-10-29 04:54 am (UTC)You are little else. [ Dry, dry as the mead he pours for them. ]
It's perfect middleground. Otherwise they'll be bickering about location location location...
Date: 2012-10-29 05:22 am (UTC)[ Forever ruining all John's moments: that would be the wizard currently leaning all over the table with cockeyed leers and a permanent dare in his voice. At least he's not getting grabby, though his initial acceptance of the alcohol is peppered with apprehension. He's got to be careful. No sense in inhibiting his senses, not when whatever he'd sought refuge from was still out there, presumably still waiting. He didn't know for sure, and it made him twitchy. A drink to calm the nerves, if anything. More like, 'give him a glass before he changes his mind.' ]
also: caffeine.
Date: 2012-10-29 05:34 am (UTC)[ John takes the first sip, just in case that arsenic jab was enough to make Dresden paranoid. No poison, just hops and honey and whatever else Donar puts in his personal store of alcohol. ] I was expecting sweeter... [ It's good though, but somewhat outside his palate, cultivated on cheap stolen beer of his childhood and the distastefully expensive wine from his fancy dress affairs of adulthood.
It's very good, actually, and John forces himself to take it slowly. He can tell this bottle will get him in trouble if he's not careful; Donar's idea of good-natured meddling, no doubt. Slow sips, and finally unfolds his legs to stretch them out under the table. His shoes come off easily with a push at the heels, and John meets Dresden's eyes to see if he'll say anything.
Mutual understand and corkscrew trust, John thinks idly. ]
no subject
Date: 2012-10-29 05:51 am (UTC)[ John might take the first drink, but Harry is going to end up going through his own first. Apparently, he's so used to throwing back ale and beer that he doesn't know how to appreciate a fine mead. He just tips it back, drinks it down to buy himself as much time as possible before he has to rejoin the conversation and comes up for air by the time John's got his shoes off and gee fucking whiz it really is a slumber party. ]
[ This time, he keeps his eyes on Marcone's and reaches down to wrestle battered Chuck Taylors off his own feet. Anything you can do, I can do too. ]
paging John's borderline-creepy Dresden obsession to the white courtesy phone~
Date: 2012-10-29 06:08 am (UTC)It'd be easy to do that, just say, When our backs are to the wall, who do we call? But he hasn't drunk enough for that.
And the fire in Dresden's eyes is a little too close to the surface. John likes his office, thank you. ]
I don't blame my new position for Archleone's brand of madness, any more than we can blame the Archive for Ivy's ordeal.
[ Harry's inability to not take anything John does as a challenge should not be so endearing. John shakes his head, taking his drink more slowly and chuckles. ] Dear God, it's not strip poker, Dresden, calm down.
((OOC: and I can edit a bit now that I am conscious and aware, yay. god my comments are obnoxiously long. ))
harry's brain never really catches up with his mouth jfc
Date: 2012-10-29 09:47 pm (UTC)Which is part of why John -- composed, placid, lucid, logical, sentimental John -- gets under his skin. Fucking roosts there, on long, dark nights. ]
[ Harry visibly tenses, fingers tightening around the glass as though waiting to call bullshit in lieu of that line of thought. Damn John for his rationality. Damn himself for agreeing, if only because it was easier to find reason to blame himself. His response is sullen: ] It doesn't mean that it hurt any less. I saw you both. Ivy still has nightmares. I can only wonder about you.
[ Pointedly, he sweeps his leg at his shoes, knocking them across the floor and out of his reach. A childish gesture, but one to show he's not backing down. Perhaps he could recall that he hadn't planned on drinking any more than he already had, but by then, Harry was thrusting the tumbler back out in Marcone's direction: ] Hit me again.
harry you are so dumb and playing with so much fire ilu
Date: 2012-10-29 10:41 pm (UTC)John takes out his phone and sends a message to Hendricks, telling him to go home, that the rest of the night's cancelled, then powers the thing off and, imitating Dresden, swipes the thing with a hand. It spins down the table to the far end, out of reach, stopping just shy of the edge. Precision is capable with everything from knives to words to cell phones. ]
Do you, Dresden? [ John doesn't touch his scarred ear because he knows he doesn't have to if he wants to draw attention to it. Few outside this room know the story behind it, but no one knows it better than Dresden and the Archive. ] What is it that would haunt my dreams? Is it a shooting in Calumet Park, or being hung by my feet while a monster circles? The mundanities of my responsibilities or the extraordinary circumstances with the Denarians?
[ John pours them both measures of mead, silently marveling that Dresden is leading them down this road with the All-Father's special mead. It's one of the more ridiculous things John's witnessed, and it has a lot of competition. ] Do you wonder?
oh my god john marcone you really are a ridiculous creature
Date: 2012-10-30 12:39 am (UTC)He waits. Until John stops questioning him like he gets off on interrogations, until his glass is full again and Harry can stick a finger in the mead and trace figure-eights through the drink absently. Waiting, contemplating. He takes a look at the supposed meaning in their actions: the cellphone, their shoes, the familiarity of sharing a bottle of rather good alcohol (he likes his drinks sweet, more often than not; primed with saccharine flavors that balance out reality and her bitterness). ] Why are you asking me a question that I already answered, John?
[ With that, he pulls the mead to himself again, cradles it as he takes his time with the second drink. ]
I'VE BEEN SAYING. though, really, pot, kettle, etc.
Date: 2012-10-30 01:07 am (UTC)Now he's made Dresden morose, which wasn't his intention. But then again, what the hell had he intended with any of this? For once he doesn't know. He has plans to kill this man, very meticulous, carefully laid plans. He could do it now, probably, with the wizard in such a state. But, just this once, John is not thinking ahead.
Dresden may be the only person John can afford that luxury with. The amount of trust between them, antagonistic as it is, is terrifying sometimes. Sometimes it's... not.
But anyway. John pours himself another, deciding to keep even with Harry, if only for the sake of fairness. ] Why? I'm not certain.
[ The tumbler spins nicely on the table, as smoothly as the phone did, the rim circling under John's palm. ] I think perhaps I keep asking in hopes you'll give a straight answer sometime. I don't think I've gotten one out of you since we soulgazed. It's a curious thing. You'll trust me with something as important as your life and the lives of your friends, but nothing else.
i can't stop internally screaming now ARGH
Date: 2012-10-30 02:29 am (UTC)[ Says the boy who's got a literal Faerie Godmother. Says the boy who had to train his tongue to speak an entirely new language fluently, to purposefully disengage his brain from mortality in order to cope with the blue-orange mentality of the Sidhe, lest he land himself in hot water. Ah no, a poor example. In the freezer, rather. ]
There shouldn't be such thing as freebies, [ he gestures, wordlessly asking Marcone what he'd ante up for that knowledge. And the moment he hears "as important as your life", he snickers low in his throat, because there isn't any tell better than that. ] Want a hint? You're useful, okay? Useful when applied in the right direction, otherwise you'll catch me in the jugular on the rebound. I'm here because you're useful, and given the choices I had, you were the devil I knew.
oh my god this is so good I am biting my knuckles uuuuugh
Date: 2012-10-30 02:57 am (UTC)He also drinks, still matching Harry, and leans forward as well. John's clasped hands almost brush Harry's. Just how far can he goad Dresden? How much will Dresden get out of him? He should take that into consideration. But John's been so careful about everything for so long. ]
I am useful. But so is the Knight's family. [ Ignore the twinge of guilt there. ] So are the rumors of your connections to the White Court. So are Sgt. Murphy and your police allies. So are the ragtag werewolves that call themselves the Alphas. And so, I imagine, are the many other people you've accrued favors from that I haven't heard about in the grapevine.
But here, tonight, with whatever it is you're not telling me about on your heels, you don't vanish into the Ways, as any Council Warden could with Winter's permission. You come to me.
[ John grins, this time without hiding it, enjoying this game too much. ] I think it's more than that. I am the devil you know, but as much as I loathe to admit it, you made me Baron, and don't tell me I was the only option. Or even the cheapest price.
[ That articulated, John picks up his glass, holding it right between the two of them, a silent your move to Dresden, before gunning it back. Finally dropping the facade of easy grace, he lets the tumbler thump back down loudly. ]
gnrghr i can manage only inarticulate noises!
From:/SCREAMS INTO KNEES
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From:I have something in my eyes
From:I just c an't anymore
From:jhsfkjdja you are a fucking poetic RPer do you know that
From:kgddgnd what can i say you bring out the best in me? :D
From:/creys
From:my keywords are "don't you cry" in reference to your subject oh my gosh
From:i can't get over him saying this considering how he kills Susan ABLOO BLOO BLOO /TEARS
From:kill what you love, kill love itself I BLAME YOUR FANMIX
From:it doesn't seem fair Harry would fall for the kingcraft of a meritless crown?
From:i thought that said 'minecraft' and nodded sagely: 'yes yes he'd be burning the forests'
From:jkdfd half-expecting Harry to punch John for this buuuut here we go
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From:oh hai let me impotently try to emulate your style
From:oh hello let me devour it because it's that delicious
From:hedjkfhfdjdf TO CHICAGO, WITH LOVE /crying
From:if people went in search of john's birth records, that's all they'd find.
From:oh my god yes please /sobs over the idea of it
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From:precious sleeping asshole
From:precious stupid boys, uUGHHH!
From:and tbh John is stupider when sober, so
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From:harry jfc STOP IT
From:NO KIDDING.
From:COMMUNICATION IS KEY IN ANY RELATIONSHIP.
From:/SOBBING
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