You've proved you can take care of five on your own. All that depends on a dad is the sperm donation. [ Granted, the process is normally Marriage > Children > Happy Nuclear Family. But it doesn't have to depend on a dad. But Fiona's done enough on her own, from what her file says and what she's mentioned to him so far. She deserves Happy Nuclear Family. ]
Yeah, unless he hangs around and fucks the kid up. [He probably would. That's what dads do, isn't it? Which answers Jack's question-] I don't need another Frank hanging around. [She says it like it's a minor annoyance, instead of a major neurosis.]
So do an actual sperm donation. Go to a clinic. [ That is, if it's just the kid she wants and not the complete family with all the pieces. It'd be a pity, though, if she gave up on trying to find someone for the fear that they'd turn out like her father. Jack can't really blame her too much, he'd always been terrified of the almost certain possibility he'd have to be a parent. He's already molded enough like his father.
But Fiona's responsible, smart and genuine. She just needs someone who matches it. With a great ass. ]
[Fiona... Fiona signs.] Most people're fuck ups. [She gives him an encouraging pat on the back, like he isn't technically older than her. You'll grow out of it.] What about you? Ever wanted a kid?
[It's oddly refreshing to talk to a drunk when the conversation isn't all about politics or religion or crying and violence. That, and the sadness of previous questions asked, has an unexpectedly calming affect, similar to fatigue. She trudges on through the snow, an awkward two-headed, four-legged beast, trying to find warmth just like everyone else.]
Most. Not all. [ But that's like finding a needle in a haystack. David, he was worth it. He's likely on the run or dead by now, though. That's the issue with the good ones - they don't last long. The fucked up ones tend to tear them to pieces.
The second question has Jack actually physically slowing a little, something sick twisting in his stomach as he thinks of that too perfect room in the palace, of Thomasina and her message from Silas. If he can't find a way to stay in this place, he'll be going back to that. He'll have a son he won't know and he'll deliver him into the hands of the man that ripped Jack's life and person to tattered shreds. His voice is a little hoarse as he speak, but he clears it pretty quickly. ] No. I never wanted one.
[ He's another fuck up anyway. Maybe the kid would actually be better off with Silas. Jack's existence there is a sinking ship, and his mind wasn't terrible stable the last time he saw Shiloh. ]
some day both of them will. today is not that day.
[Fiona is a good study of people, but she wouldn't have to be, to get the blazing neon sign Jack sends out, all flashing and everything. Wrong subject, wrong question to ask. It occurs to Fiona-- he's fucking gay, you idiot-- that this may be a sore subject for him.]
[That's two things she's done to upset him in one night, and on a night where he said he was already down. Good job, Fiona.]
[She should change the subject. Back to her, then? A fitting penance for failure.] Well, if mine ever end up here, you gotta promise not to tell 'em I been talking shit about 'em. [She gives him an affectionate nudge. It's not the world's most subtle of shifts, but it doesn't have to be.] But don't go easy on 'em. Nobody else will.
[ He's a little caught up in his head for a moment, hearing what Fiona's saying distantly, but it takes a while to get a reply out, and it's a little dazed. ]
I'll keep your secret safe. [ And a weak half-smile comes for the nudge, giving her one back. ] They sure as hell won't be getting away with calling be 'douche.'
[ Jack lifts his head a bit as he sees it, and suddenly the thought of sleep is fucking excellent. ] Can't have that. Am I allowed to make them do push ups?
[ hurgh, give him a second, hobbling up these things and using fiona's shoulder for stablity, thanks brosis. ] I made full grown men do worse, I can handle it.
[ once he makes it up half way, he glances back to fiona. ] Am I getting a bedtime story?
You threatening to fuck my little brother? You might wanna lay off the alien whiskey next time. [Dingus. If she was taking that more seriously, she'd likely have threatened to cut some important part of him into tiny pieces.]
[She helps him up, trying awkwardly to compensate for his weight while steadying them on the cold and occasionally slippery stairs. Again, experience is a great aid.] Once upon a time, there was an idiot who almost froze to death because he decided to fall asleep drunk in the snow. [And he wasn't even related to Fiona this time!]
Surprisingly enough, not every sentence I saw about men has to do with fucking them. [ Said as he leans a little too far back on the ladder to look at her with a gurl pls face. ] Major in the military. I made them clean my humvee with toothbrushes.
[ He also made one particularly douchey lieutenant that was really attached to the word 'faggot' wear a dress and heels for a week and repeat the words 'I like bows in my hair and I want to kiss all the boys' any time it was asked of him. That was satisfying. ] Bedtime stories are supposed to be non-fiction.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
What don't you want?
no subject
no subject
But Fiona's responsible, smart and genuine. She just needs someone who matches it. With a great ass. ]
Or don't marry a fuck up.
no subject
[It's oddly refreshing to talk to a drunk when the conversation isn't all about politics or religion or crying and violence. That, and the sadness of previous questions asked, has an unexpectedly calming affect, similar to fatigue. She trudges on through the snow, an awkward two-headed, four-legged beast, trying to find warmth just like everyone else.]
some day jack will stop being a fucking sad shit
The second question has Jack actually physically slowing a little, something sick twisting in his stomach as he thinks of that too perfect room in the palace, of Thomasina and her message from Silas. If he can't find a way to stay in this place, he'll be going back to that. He'll have a son he won't know and he'll deliver him into the hands of the man that ripped Jack's life and person to tattered shreds. His voice is a little hoarse as he speak, but he clears it pretty quickly. ] No. I never wanted one.
[ He's another fuck up anyway. Maybe the kid would actually be better off with Silas. Jack's existence there is a sinking ship, and his mind wasn't terrible stable the last time he saw Shiloh. ]
some day both of them will. today is not that day.
[That's two things she's done to upset him in one night, and on a night where he said he was already down. Good job, Fiona.]
[She should change the subject. Back to her, then? A fitting penance for failure.] Well, if mine ever end up here, you gotta promise not to tell 'em I been talking shit about 'em. [She gives him an affectionate nudge. It's not the world's most subtle of shifts, but it doesn't have to be.] But don't go easy on 'em. Nobody else will.
8( nope
I'll keep your secret safe. [ And a weak half-smile comes for the nudge, giving her one back. ] They sure as hell won't be getting away with calling be 'douche.'
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ once he makes it up half way, he glances back to fiona. ] Am I getting a bedtime story?
no subject
[She helps him up, trying awkwardly to compensate for his weight while steadying them on the cold and occasionally slippery stairs. Again, experience is a great aid.] Once upon a time, there was an idiot who almost froze to death because he decided to fall asleep drunk in the snow. [And he wasn't even related to Fiona this time!]
no subject
[ He also made one particularly douchey lieutenant that was really attached to the word 'faggot' wear a dress and heels for a week and repeat the words 'I like bows in my hair and I want to kiss all the boys' any time it was asked of him. That was satisfying. ] Bedtime stories are supposed to be non-fiction.
no subject
[She continues pushing him up the ladder.] Maybe on your planet. Haven't you ever heard of fairy tales?