[SE] that's fucked up

JACK

"My experience with hearts in general is that they're more trouble'n they're worth," Jack quips back, raising a slow brow across at Vesper as if to ask whether the bite in his tone is really meant for him, and if it is, if he's sure he'd like to start a fight here in this merry old tavern with the good rum. "You're the one who kept goin' back for more until it was too complicated to do anythin' but run," he reminds him; as telepaths, they're in the unfortunate position where they really can cut off emotional trouble before shit hits the fan.

Doesn't always mean it's the decision they opt to take, though.

Happy to let that silence stretch between them - one Jack fills with rum, especially at the sound of the rain that starts hammering against the tavern windows - by the time Vesper speaks again he's more or less settled back into his usual rhythm of people watching without needing to lay his eyes on anyone. "Oh? You ain't found any secrets worth sharin' or favourite haunts, then?" he asks. "If the place is a dud you can always try somewhere else, though I reckon only Halo is gonna have enough goin' on to be worth the trip."

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

Vesper doesn’t look away. There’s no heat in his gaze—not yet—just that quiet, simmering tension that moves under the skin when too many words have gone unspoken for too long. His gaze stays steady, pale and sharp beneath the low light, and though he doesn’t want to start anything, the itch beneath his ribs says otherwise. The whole season’s been like this; rain and restraint and the sense that if he doesn’t let something bite, it’ll eat through him instead.

So when Jack tosses the line about letting it get too far, Vesper’s mouth twists into a smirk that’s far too thin to be pleasant. "Well," he drawls, head tilting lazily to the side, "that is somethin’ I believe you’d know about. At least I stopped after a few months." The words land smooth, as if pointing out that Jack had done all of this and worse was somehow something Vesper could take credit for, but the look he gives after carries the faintest glint of apology.  He exhales, shaking his head once before finishing the rest of his rum in a single swallow, the burn catching in his throat as though to cauterize the edge of whatever that was.

Dragging a hand up the side of his face, he lets the tension slip out on the exhale. "Ain’t found much I think you’d be interested in," he admits, voice back to something easier, quieter. "Though there’s a Rage Room in the Temple might be worth checkin’ out." His gaze flicks up again, a spark of dry amusement threading through it as he nods toward Jack. "You heard of it?"

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

JACK

To anyone looking (and there are a few, as both telepaths will be well aware) it might seem as though the two blue eyed boys at the table are about to throw-down; Jack doesn't break Vesper's gaze either, and the twist to his lips is too bitter to truly be called a smile. If he bites, though, it's not at the demigod before him. Jack's feelings have been chewing up his insides for long before the rain started, and another scar or two isn't going to make a difference now.

"Yeah, more fool me," he says instead, the words rough with his agreement, and he follows suit in knocking back the rest of his drink before it turns to ice in the glass.

Luckily, for however boring the Grounds seems to be, apparently there is something interesting enough to warm their conversation back up, and Jack cocks his head to the side and tries to contain the scoff that wants to leave his lips. "A Rage Room?" he repeats, sounding somehow as if he's managed to pronounce the capital letters the space has given itself. "Never heard of it, no. What's it meant to do, make you fucked off? 'Cause between us I don't reckon we need the encouragement."

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

For a long, taut moment Vesper’s body stays ready for impact; shoulders drawn tight, shadows stirred faintly around his boots like a tide preparing to rise. He doesn’t need to hear the thoughts in Jack's mind to feel the weight of what he’s just risked; he’s pushed further than sense would recommend, and the quiet between them feels like standing in the mouth of a storm.

But when the blow never comes—no flash of anger, no venomous retort—he exhales, slow and disbelieving, the air leaving him in a thin curl of relief. His posture straightens, wary eyes flicking toward the captain as if reassessing the ground between them. There’s wariness there, yes, but something like gratitude too, thinly veiled and wordless. Instead of naming it, he turns slightly and catches the bartender’s uncertain gaze. "Just bring the bottle," he calls, voice low and even. The man nods too quickly, pretending he hadn’t been watching in the first place.

Vesper snorts softly when Jack questions the Rage Room, the sound roughened by leftover tension. "Apparently whatever happens in there resets when the door opens again," he says, rolling the glass between his fingers. "You can smash shit up to get it outta your system, or..." His voice trails off, and he lifts one brow toward Jack, the silence doing more than words could. Whatever images the captain’s mind conjures, Vesper lets them stand.

After a moment, he tips his head, tone light but edged with curiosity. "Basically, it’s a room without consequences. Or—" his mouth twitches faintly, "—no physical ones, anyway."

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

JACK

Inclining his head towards Vesper at his call to the bartender - he was going to ask for the bottle if the demigod didn't - Jack settles back in his seat to absently brush the frost from his fingers, letting it melt and steam as it hits the warmth of the table. At least it isn't fire any more, the element having coiled itself inside him for all but his worst feelings, and perhaps it's a sign of healing or some shit, that thinking about Flora doesn't quite inspire the flames like it once did.

A room without consequences, though? His eyes flick up and back at Vesper to hear as much, and though his expression is as quietly blank as always, he doubts neither of them need to think very hard to imagine the sort of things that might go on behind that particular closed door. "And it's in the Grounds?" he repeats, a smile starting to play along his mouth. "Should've guessed the Ancients would have somethin' like that."

Glancing up as the bottle comes to land on their table, Jack reaches for it to uncork it and gives both of their glasses - now with plenty of ice in them - a refill. "You gonna go see what it's all about? If it's worthwhile maybe I'll give it a look."

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

"The more of ’em I meet, the less surprised I am," Vesper murmurs, watching the bottle land between them before nodding his thanks as Jack refills their glasses. He gives his rum a slow swirl, the ice chiming softly against the glass, then takes a smaller sip this time; enough to taste, not to burn. The edges of the world seem to ease a little, the tension that had coiled between his shoulders unwinding under the low hum of tavern noise.

"Was thinkin’ about it," he admits after a moment, thumb tracing idle circles along the rim of his glass. "Not the violence bit so much, but..." His gaze drifts toward the flicker of candlelight again, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "Lettin’ loose for a bit doesn’t sound too bad." He shrugs, the motion easy but measured. "Might even find someone to join me." The corner of his mouth tilts before he lifts the glass slightly before taking another quiet sip. Not unlike Jack's residency at the House of Midnight, Vesper thought perhaps it might help to have someone else at least try to scratch the itch humming against his bones, even if he knew they wouldn't be able to actually do it.

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

JACK

"I'll drink to that. Been a while since I ran into one of 'em properly, but most of 'em are batshit from my experience." In a multitude of different ways, too, which he guesses is what their strange chaos goddess is all about, so... good for them? Lifting his glass as well, he clinks it absently against Vesper's before taking a sip, finding himself relaxing in a similar fashion as the world frays enough at the edges so as to not feel so sharp.

Understanding the exact sort of letting loose that follows in the wake of Vesper's unfinished sentence, the Captain smirks behind his rum and sets the glass down. "It sure as fuck beats mopin' around a place like this, proddin' mud monsters," he agrees. "Who knows, you might even like it. Let me know if you end up goin' - I'll treat your review as the most honest I'm likely to find."

Except odds are good that Jack will be using it for its more traditional and violent purposes.

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

Vesper exhales into his glass, the sigh muffled by the rim as he takes another slow sip. The warmth settles low in his chest, dulling the edges of the day in a way that feels almost like relief. He nods, then pulls a face at Jack’s jab, pale eyes narrowing in mock offence. "Ain’t mopin’," he says, though the look he shoots across the table isn’t half as convincing as he hopes it is. 

He shrugs, rolling the glass between his fingers. "I’ll let you know how it goes, assumin’ they don’t make me sign some loyalty pact to Dygra just to walk through the door." The remark carries a dry lift of humour, though there’s enough truth in it to make him sound wary. He leans back, letting the chair tilt on two legs for a heartbeat before it settles again, his shadows twitching faintly at his feet like an idle habit.

"So," he drawls, gaze flicking back toward Jack. "How’re the girls? Heard they’re plannin’ on openin’ a café." There’s a spark of genuine curiosity in the question—muted, but warmer than most things he offers, especially when it comes to his sisters—and his fingers tap absently against the side of his glass while he waits for the reply.

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

JACK

"Fine, fine," Jack concedes in response to the boy's definitely-not-mopey glare across the table to him. "Sulkin' then." Grinning and raising his glass in a toast - they're both guilty of sulking more than a bit lately, and they know it - he takes another slow sip before setting it down again, finally in a position to start to enjoy the swathe of thoughts drifting around them.

He's also not surprised at the idea of having to pledge allegiance to the flag Dygra before being permitted to use the rage room, and he concedes that point with a nod. "Your mother might just consider it an act of youthful rebellion," he offers, though his smirk suggests that she might also take considerable offence and act accordingly.

"A cafe? First I've heard," he says of the Marin siblings, using a pulse of magic to set a small whirlpool to spinning in his rum. "I don't see much of Caly. Nova's been makin' the most of bein' able to create semi-useful magic shit, though. Crafted a self-sweepin' broom for the deck over Longnight."

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

Vesper only tilts his head in response to the jab, the motion slow and deliberate, and lets the retort die as nothing more than an exhale through his nose. He doesn’t bother defending himself further; it isn’t like Jack’s wrong. The expression that settles on his face admits as much, even if his mouth doesn’t.

Snorting into his glass at the mention of Safrin, he raises his brows. "Youthful or not, I doubt she’d permit much rebellion," he says, dry humour curling under the words. "’Specially not to another god who’s stronger than she is." She'd probably not tolerate it to a lesser deity either of course, but there was something about Dygra that was similar enough to her that Vesper figured she'd take it extra personal. 

He hums in quiet agreement as Jack describes his sisters, taking another sip of his rum. "They were talkin’ about havin' it be a place they could host parties, too." There’s fondness there, muted but real. His frown deepens at hearing Jack doesn’t see much of Caly, though it melts at the story of Nova’s broom. "Of course she did." Fishing in his coat, he pulls out a small silver flask and gives it a little shake, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She made this one. Keeps itself full of whatever you put in." He sets it down on the table before sighing, the sound soft but sincere. "Maybe if you do come back for the festival, you can try draggin’ Caly along. I think all that shit in Torchline hit her harder than she wants to admit."

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

JACK

Raising his eyebrows to even hear Vesper admit that Safrin would be bested by Dygra (it doesn't mean it isn't true, but saying it out loud is the sort of thing to invite smiting in his experience), the Captain huffs out a soft laugh and raises his glass to drink to that. "Then let's hope it's just a stamp card instead of a full contract signin'," he says. "Y'know, get your sixth visit free or somethin'." Or get a souvenir pin for the privilege of raging so much.

"A party cafe," Jack repeats, trying and failing to hide his smirk, only glancing up from the slowing whirlpool in his glass as he hears the metallic slosh of liquid in the flask Vesper is holding. "Well now I feel like I've offended her, 'cause I didn't get one of those," he rumbles. "What's in it right now?"

He doesn't need the lowering of any respective mental guards to see Vesper's expression tighten a bit at the mention of Caly, but it is a surprise to hear him confirm his worries out loud. Perhaps that's why Jack is surprisingly open to helping out. "I'll do that," he decides, smirking. "She can enjoy the mud up here instead of in King's End."

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

Vesper huffs a quiet laugh, tipping his head in agreement. "If she comes ‘round sayin’ she needs another demigod outta you," he says dryly, "You'll know things didn’t go accordin’ to plan." The smirk that follows is crooked, cutting through the dim light like a line of mischief.

When Jack eyes the flask, Vesper raises a brow and grins. "Guess she likes me more’n you," he says, the tease lazy and unhurried as he uncaps it. "Rum from Torchline. Just ‘cause we don’t go there anymore doesn’t mean I don’t miss the taste." He gives the flask a small shake before adding, "Not like I’m helpin’ the economy either, seein’ as it never needs a refill."

He nods his thanks at Jack’s offer, the gesture small but genuine. "Maybe some chaotic Ancients are just what she needs," he muses, leaning back in his chair as if the idea itself amuses him.

The bell above the door jingles before he can say more, and heads turn as a wet slorp echoes through the tavern. A shapeless mass of memory mud drags itself inside, dripping and determined. Vesper exhales through his nose, unimpressed. "Hope the Ark’s anchored above the ground," he mutters, swirling what’s left of his drink. "Otherwise she’s liable t’have some stowaways given how how these things seem to wherever they damn well please."

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

JACK

"I dunno that she'd be keen to replace you so easy." Jack smirks, sounding curiously confident about that. "Put it this way - I ain't even met that brother of yours. Dunno if he's even still alive, and I ain't been asked for anythin' else since, so I assume all's well." Not that the Captain is complaining; it's taken him this long to get used to the idea of the Marins, after all.

Scoffing out a laugh, if only because he doesn't think there exists a reality in which he'd win a popularity contest against Vesper when it comes to his sisters, Jack nevertheless seems impressed - and perhaps the tiniest bit homesick, just for a second or two - at the revelation that it's Torchline's finest that resides in the clever litttle flask. "An' the ability to get shitfaced at the shake of a flask? She does like you," he drawls, grinning.

Glancing over his shoulder as well when the door jingles but no thoughts follow it, Jack pulls a face at the sight of the mass of memory mud, and the bartender immediately barks a curse towards it, seizing a broom to try and batter it back out the door. "I dunno that bein' in the air would make much of a difference with these fuckin' things," he says, finishing his drink as well. "Still, once we toss 'em overboard from the sky, at least they ain't likely to come back. C'mon - let's not persuade it to follow us any further an' get the fuck gone from here."

Got a head full of spiders & a heart that isn't here

Vesper rolls his eyes, the motion exaggerated enough to hide the faint crack of something else beneath it. "Probably got himself in a bind, wouldn’t open his mouth to call for help, and got killed ‘cause of it," he says, tone flat but not without an undercurrent of frustration. 

When Jack comments on the flask, though, the faint grin returns. Vesper arches his brows and nods toward him. "Bet she’d make you one too, especially if you said pretty please." The smirk that follows is all sharp amusement, knowing full well how likely that is to happen.

He pushes his chair back and stands, grunting his agreement to Jack’s plan. Snatching up the bottle, he drops a few crumpled bills onto the table and turns toward the door. As the bartender’s broom flails uselessly at the mud, Vesper lets his shadows surge forward in one clean sweep, dark and forceful, shoving the half-solid creature back out into the rain. The thing splatters against the threshold with a wet slap, leaving streaks behind as it goes.

He steps over the mess with a grimace, careful not to let any of it cling to his boots lest it think that meant the demigod had adopted it, before following Jack out into the damp evening and the wash of salt air beyond.

~FIN

VESPER

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)