u think i dont know what other ppl say? i dont need 2 hear it from a fucking adult. stop trying 2 shock me or ill stomp ur ass
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
also if u get hypothermia out there im gonna b pissed
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
have u ever tried 2 wake up a teenager. i couldnt do that if i tried. but i know what u mean. ill find a way 2 let him know. ill let the rest of the kids in on it
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
she was a kid from the grade above him. i dont know if captain is the right word
[ROTC terminology is not actually high on Fiona's priority list, sry.]
What, it's only been kids saying it to him so far? Oh that's not half as bad.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
I'll be fine. I know a space heater.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
I make a point to never interact with anyone 18 or under so, no, I haven't.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Publically humiliate her several times worse than she did your brother. Make sure she knows it was you but not the others. Make her terrified of showing up to school at all, let alone speaking or looking at your brother.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Rinse and repeat for any other kid that gives him shit.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
I'll be fine. Like I said, space heater on speed dial.
but then u say u read my file and u make jokes like that
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
like wow jack this must b some amazing long game ur playing here
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
right now i am so filled with confidence in u
[These texts come sporadically as Fiona orbits the bondfire, trying to find the disheveled lump she recognizes. It would go faster if she could stop instinctually looking for Frank.]
[She doesn't want to think about that right now. Jack is smaller, and he wears better clothes. Eventually, Fiona finds him by almost tripping right over him.] Fuck-!
Difference with me is I don't want children, and the one I might end up having I'm not going to be allowed to keep, so I'm not fucking up anyone else's life but my own.
[ Which is all he sends as far as texts go, and lays back waiting otherwise, thinking on that. If Fiona had wanted him to read her file, he'd assumed she'd already read his and new about that whole child he'll be having if he's ever sent home. Maybe not, though. And now that seems sort of awkward after the fact. A thought that gets interrupted by Fiona nearly trips on him. ]
Ow. [ He drawls flattly, brushing some kicked up snow off his chest. But the thought from earlier is stil floating around in his mind, and he brings it up just as casually. ]
[Fiona doesn't trip over him, but she does fall backwards, landing on her ass in the snow. After one or two colorful invectives, she rights herself, folding her legs under her. Jack doesn't look nearly as bad as she was picturing. He's clearly bathed in the last four days. What was she expecting?]
[She knows what she was expecting, and she's glad not to find it. But she doesn't want to think about that, either-] Hi. [Uh, he asked a question...]
No. Should I? You a murderer or something I should know about? [She's pretty sure he likes shocking people, and she's not going to let him win. She learned that tactic from living with Lip her whole life. It's a game she thinks she can win.]
[ His head lolls to the side, looking over her for a long moment with an expression that would normally never been seen if this were daylight and if he were upright and sober. or even relatively sober. it's the blank eyed, hollow sort of thing. ]
I am. [ A murderer. Maybe he didn't pull the trigger on those that were slaughtered during the coup, but he stood by and let it happen. Played his part on it. But the counselor in Unity Hall. The red pool inching out over the expensive polished wood, the gunshot ringing in the room designed to support acoustics easily, and the cool emptiness he felt as he watched it. That was him. That was on his hands. ] You'll want to read it. You'll want to read everyone's here.
[ It's better she learns it now instead of getting to know him and finding out what he really is later. ]
Ohh, spooky. [She likes to think she knows better than to indulge someone when they're in this kind of gloomy mood. More importantly, she knows not to take anything a drunk says at face value. She picks up a bIt of snow and sprinkles It over hIs face.]
When I want your advice, I'll ask for it. [She's too old to argue with drunks. That's kId stuff. ] What rover you in?
[ Jack's blowing at the snowflakes falling towards his face, and while some of them get shot back up, the majority ends up decorating his nose and cheeks, expression wrinkling with distaste. Rude, Fiona. ]
Don't say I didn't warn you. [ A wry shrug, as much as he can shrug chilling out in the snow. When she eventually finds out, well, he tried. He's honestly more concerned about her not checking into the others at the moment. That'll be the actual danger. ] 020. Driver. You?
Don't worry, [Fiona stands, and dusts some of the now off her knees and ass. It's a gesture learned from habit rather than necessity; she's never owned waterproof clothes, and her CDC issued uniform remains a novelty.] when I fuck up, it's always all on me.
[She speaks with a slight twinge of bitterness, but this isn't about her. Very few things are. She pushes it aside, and her expression goes back to a tired yet affectionate sneer It's a slip, but she's not particularly worried. He's drunk and lying in the snow like a dead fish after she grilled him about his childhood out of nowhere; why would the hell would he, or anyone else, care?]
34's driver. But we're- [with a grunt, she grabs his arm, and begins to pull,] going to get- [another pull,] you home first. C'mon-
[ Jack grumbles out an irritated groan, but doesn’t fight Fiona hauling him up. Typically, there isn’t anyone around for this sort of task, save for maybe a bodyguard. Or Joseph. It’s been Joseph, and that brings about a whole new want to drink. Before he’s all the way up, Jack’s able to grab at the whiskey bottle that was chilling in the snow next to him and toss back one final swig, before he caps it. Gotta preserve that shit here. ]
Are you gonna tuck me in and read me a bedtime story too? [ spoken wryly, with a drunken half-chuckle, half-giggle. Are you his keeper now, Fiona? ]
[Fiona pulls his arm over her shoulder, lending him her support so he can walk in an almost straight line. She's an old hand at this, and every step is sure-footed despite the ice and the awkwardness. She's done this more times than she can count.]
Maybe if you ask real nice. Seems like tonight's my night to do dumb shit around drunk assholes.
[ Jack lets himself be maneuvered easily, slumping against Fiona, but not really with all of his weight. Drunk and wobbly and five sheets to the damn wind as he is, there’s still some conscientious part of him that doesn’t want her having to haul his tall ass all the way back. ]
You make a good Mom, you know. Kids need that. Your brothers or sisters or whatever need that. [ the unspoken part being ‘otherwise they turn into drunk assholes like me’, but they’ve talked enough about Jack’s shitty parents for the night. ]
[That was a very gentle, affectionate kick in the gut. Fiona's expression shifts for a moment, caught in worry and doubt. It passes quickly, but her smile is a bit more strained afterward.]
I know. [She stops, tries again.] I mean- I know they need it. Everybody needs it. [She needed it. She keeps trudging through the snow, dragging Jack along with her.] Four little brothers, one sister. Lip, Ian, Debbie, Carl, Liam.
[She wonders if he'll remember this in the morning. Whatever, it keeps them off the subject of her.]
[ he might remember it. maybe. this is worse than he's been in a while, but he's not vomitting yet, so maybe he's not too terribly bad off. either way, his brain is a little soft and he's a little less guarded and stiff than he typically is, giving a slight half-smile. ]
Mostly boys. Too bad for you. They're the difficult ones. [ Michelle was easy, Jack thinks. Seemed like it, at least. Jack was the one always getting into things and causing problems. ] A lot to handle, even if you have two caretakers around.
[Fiona scoffs, rolling her eyes.] No, boys are the easy ones. Girls are the real bitch. Watch your step, ice. [She steers him as deftly as she's able, feet moving with a self-assured sort of muscle memory.]
Yeah, you can thank Our Lady of Broken Condoms for every little blessing. [She loves all her siblings deeply, but she has no illusions about why her life is the way it is.]
Hm. Maybe my sister was just a saint. [ A short, snorted laugh. Actually, yeah, Michelle sort of is. Makes sense. Stepping around the ice mentioned, he wobbles a little but stays upright. Fiona's good at this.
For a while, Jack's quiet, thinking, and peers over to her eventually, speaking in something that's just soft curiousity. ] Do you want children? Actually from you - not siblings.
[And there's another punch in the gut. She can't just brush it off, though; she already asked him a direct, evidently painful question about himself. She's obligated to respond in kind, if he wants something back.]
[Fiona's used to feeling obligated. Even if you were born in prison, you'd still miss home.] I don't- [A sigh.] I don't know. Depends on the dad, doesn't it? [Okay, so that's still technically letting the question slide by, but it's also the truth, right?] I know what I don't want.
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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
u think i dont know what other ppl say? i dont need 2 hear it from a fucking adult. stop trying 2 shock me or ill stomp ur ass
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
also if u get hypothermia out there im gonna b pissed
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
have u ever tried 2 wake up a teenager. i couldnt do that if i tried. but i know what u mean. ill find a way 2 let him know. ill let the rest of the kids in on it
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
she was a kid from the grade above him. i dont know if captain is the right word
[ROTC terminology is not actually high on Fiona's priority list, sry.]
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
o shit u caught me. dont freeze 2 death u jackass
no subject
What, it's only been kids saying it to him so far? Oh that's not half as bad.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
I'll be fine. I know a space heater.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
I make a point to never interact with anyone 18 or under so, no, I haven't.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Publically humiliate her several times worse than she did your brother. Make sure she knows it was you but not the others. Make her terrified of showing up to school at all, let alone speaking or looking at your brother.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Rinse and repeat for any other kid that gives him shit.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
I'll be fine. Like I said, space heater on speed dial.
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shit ok thatll be easy good idea. thank u again jack i really mean it
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
last time i believed drunk ppl i was 11. where r u
no subject
No problem. Let me know if you need ideas.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Bonfire. See? Not freezing.
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oh please girls r easy 2 embarrass in high school. i need 2 rumors and a tampon bam done
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
this may b a shock but booze tends 2 put ppl 2 sleep after a while
[Anyway, she's getting up and throwing on a coat, getting ready to try and find him.]
no subject
I didn't want to be the one to say it, but yes.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Alcoholism has helped me evolve an instinctual habit of always passing out on my side, I think. That or my fairy godmother always rolls me over.
So maybe I'll get frostbite but I won't drown in vomit. That's a plus.
And nanites heal frostbite.
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c u say shit like that so u cant be an idiot
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
but then u say u read my file and u make jokes like that
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
like wow jack this must b some amazing long game ur playing here
FROM: gallagher.fiona@cdc.org
right now i am so filled with confidence in u
[These texts come sporadically as Fiona orbits the bondfire, trying to find the disheveled lump she recognizes. It would go faster if she could stop instinctually looking for Frank.]
[She doesn't want to think about that right now. Jack is smaller, and he wears better clothes. Eventually, Fiona finds him by almost tripping right over him.] Fuck-!
no subject
I did warn you I was being a douchebag.
FROM: benjamin.jonathan@cdc.org
Difference with me is I don't want children, and the one I might end up having I'm not going to be allowed to keep, so I'm not fucking up anyone else's life but my own.
[ Which is all he sends as far as texts go, and lays back waiting otherwise, thinking on that. If Fiona had wanted him to read her file, he'd assumed she'd already read his and new about that whole child he'll be having if he's ever sent home. Maybe not, though. And now that seems sort of awkward after the fact. A thought that gets interrupted by Fiona nearly trips on him. ]
Ow. [ He drawls flattly, brushing some kicked up snow off his chest. But the thought from earlier is stil floating around in his mind, and he brings it up just as casually. ]
Have you read my file?
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[She knows what she was expecting, and she's glad not to find it. But she doesn't want to think about that, either-] Hi. [Uh, he asked a question...]
No. Should I? You a murderer or something I should know about? [She's pretty sure he likes shocking people, and she's not going to let him win. She learned that tactic from living with Lip her whole life. It's a game she thinks she can win.]
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I am. [ A murderer. Maybe he didn't pull the trigger on those that were slaughtered during the coup, but he stood by and let it happen. Played his part on it. But the counselor in Unity Hall. The red pool inching out over the expensive polished wood, the gunshot ringing in the room designed to support acoustics easily, and the cool emptiness he felt as he watched it. That was him. That was on his hands. ] You'll want to read it. You'll want to read everyone's here.
[ It's better she learns it now instead of getting to know him and finding out what he really is later. ]
Better to be aware.
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When I want your advice, I'll ask for it. [She's too old to argue with drunks. That's kId stuff. ] What rover you in?
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Don't say I didn't warn you. [ A wry shrug, as much as he can shrug chilling out in the snow. When she eventually finds out, well, he tried. He's honestly more concerned about her not checking into the others at the moment. That'll be the actual danger. ] 020. Driver. You?
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[She speaks with a slight twinge of bitterness, but this isn't about her. Very few things are. She pushes it aside, and her expression goes back to a tired yet affectionate sneer It's a slip, but she's not particularly worried. He's drunk and lying in the snow like a dead fish after she grilled him about his childhood out of nowhere; why would the hell would he, or anyone else, care?]
34's driver. But we're- [with a grunt, she grabs his arm, and begins to pull,] going to get- [another pull,] you home first. C'mon-
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Are you gonna tuck me in and read me a bedtime story too? [ spoken wryly, with a drunken half-chuckle, half-giggle. Are you his keeper now, Fiona? ]
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Maybe if you ask real nice. Seems like tonight's my night to do dumb shit around drunk assholes.
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You make a good Mom, you know. Kids need that. Your brothers or sisters or whatever need that. [ the unspoken part being ‘otherwise they turn into drunk assholes like me’, but they’ve talked enough about Jack’s shitty parents for the night. ]
no subject
I know. [She stops, tries again.] I mean- I know they need it. Everybody needs it. [She needed it. She keeps trudging through the snow, dragging Jack along with her.] Four little brothers, one sister. Lip, Ian, Debbie, Carl, Liam.
[She wonders if he'll remember this in the morning. Whatever, it keeps them off the subject of her.]
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Mostly boys. Too bad for you. They're the difficult ones. [ Michelle was easy, Jack thinks. Seemed like it, at least. Jack was the one always getting into things and causing problems. ] A lot to handle, even if you have two caretakers around.
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Yeah, you can thank Our Lady of Broken Condoms for every little blessing. [She loves all her siblings deeply, but she has no illusions about why her life is the way it is.]
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For a while, Jack's quiet, thinking, and peers over to her eventually, speaking in something that's just soft curiousity. ] Do you want children? Actually from you - not siblings.
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[Fiona's used to feeling obligated. Even if you were born in prison, you'd still miss home.] I don't- [A sigh.] I don't know. Depends on the dad, doesn't it? [Okay, so that's still technically letting the question slide by, but it's also the truth, right?] I know what I don't want.
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What don't you want?
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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.
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[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
some day both of them will. today is not that day.
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