(no subject)

[the_death_card]

Who: Dylan and Jack
What: Bad days, being stir crazy, and ink



the_death_card: *okay fine. you get a him stealthing his way back into the suite in a hoodie, shorts, and sneakers. may have been out running*

onebehind: *you know that bullshit about having to turn in your badge and your gun when you get suspended? well, the former is true enough, but the latter is more or less bullshit, particularly if it's your own gun. that in mind, he's sitting on the couch, dressed in a pair of dress slacks and a button down shirt, cleaning his gun. going to the gym and beating the crap out of something may or may not have escalated into going to a shooting range. but at any rate, he looks up when Jack comes back in, as sneaky as he's trying to be*

the_death_card: *he actually gave up trying to be sneaky around the other Horsemen about a month into them working together. old habits and instincts die hard, though, and he long ago got in the habit of closing doors silently and so on. -- he stops when he catches sight of Dylan, pausing a moment to take in the scene, and reaches up to push his hood back* Hey. *and then heads for the minibar for a bottle of water to bring with him as he flops back into one of the easy chairs*

onebehind: Hey. *a moment of silence follows, though not because his attention returns to his gun. more, he's trying to decide where to start, since he figures Jack might be having the same kind of day he had, based on the sneaking and the hoodie. finally, frowning, he settles on:* Long day?

the_death_card: *shrugs as he uncaps the water and takes a long drink. and, once he's swallowed...* Needed some air. *the fact that he's not used to staying in one place for two long means he just needs to get out, sometimes. eyes the gun again, nodding to it* You?

onebehind: *he glances down at the gun briefly; when he looks back up, it's with a wry smile* I went over to one of the FBI shooting ranges.

the_death_card: *he's figuring Dylan went to the range for the same reason he went for a jog. can't help but tease, though...* We already boring you?

onebehind: *and the smile turns into a smirk, though he tries to hide it* I think the word you're looking for is annoying. *he's teasing, too*

the_death_card: Oh, right, sorry. *shoots him a grin over the top of the bottle*

onebehind: *he shrugs* No harm, no foul.

the_death_card: *as he's digging in his hoodie's pocket* Feel better, now? *after shooting things, that is*

onebehind: Mostly, yeah. *not entirely, but ... shooting things is admittedly satisfying* You?

the_death_card: *with a smaller grin, this one of understanding* Mostly, yeah.

onebehind: *he breathes out a little sigh of a laugh and offers him a brief, fond smile before looking away. and as he goes back to finishing up cleaning his gun* Better than nothing, right?

the_death_card: *balances his water on the chair's arm, takes a small pile of bills out of his pocket and tosses them onto the table before he kicks his feet up on the table, too, making sure to keep clear of where Dylan's working. that done, he picks his water up again, nodding* Better than climbing the walls.

onebehind: *he glances at the money, a frown flickering across his face. for a moment, he looks like he might be about to say something, then his jaw steels faintly and he returns his attentions back to his gun. he can't really blame Jack for doing what he did, even if half of him doesn't entirely approve out of reflex* Better than climbing the walls. *takes a moment to finish what he's doing with his gun then gets to his feet to put it back where it belongs*

the_death_card: *there was a guy being a dick. in some situations, he can't help it* We all really suck at taking breaks.

onebehind: *he hums, amused* Yeah, I'm definitely getting that impression.

the_death_card: *chuckles, too, and once he's finished his water and while he's fiddling with the cap...* So's that an FBI tattoo or an Eye tattoo?

onebehind: *he glances over his shoulder, though not to look at Jack, even though he still has his back to him at the moment. mostly, he's trying, largely futilely, to glance at the tattoo. either way, though, when he turns back to him, gun secured, he offers him a little, almost sheepish smile* Can I get away with saying a little of both? *that ... might be a lie, though not an intentional one. yes, the tree was put there to cover the Eye of Horus, but ... tree*

the_death_card: *shrugs* Sure? *it would figure, since he's on both sides anyway*

onebehind: *he shrugs, too, silent for a moment and then* I'm guessing you want to see it, since ... *he gestures to Jack's legs*

the_death_card: *shifts a little, turning his leg so the key's more visible, and then relaxes again* If you feel like sharing.

onebehind: *he debates it for a split second, then starts unbuttoning his shirt to shrug out of it. he could probably have just pulled up the tails of his shirt, but that way, he wouldn't be able to see the whole thing, since it runs from his left shoulder blade down to just above his waist. he turns when he has his shirt off, showing it off and, as has been said (and linked), it's a tribal tree. he waits a moment so Jack can get a look at it, then rubs his index and middle fingers against his thumb and reaches over his shoulder to touch his fingers to the ink. there's a spark when his fingers connect, bright and blue, and it disappates along the edges of the tattoo, slowing minutely as it winds around the bolthole. for a second, like a room lit up by a flash of lightning, the Eye of Horus is visible, as the spark continues downwards over the ink, and then it disappears along with the light tracing the edges as it finishes the roots* Black light ink.

the_death_card: *sits up a little so he can see better - and then actually sits up, taking his feet off the table again, when Dylan lights it up* That's awesome. *and yes, he means the tattoo and the spark both*

onebehind: *he figured and he can't help but grin a little as he shrugs back into his shirt* I got it when I was about your age. *he pauses, turning to face Jack again as he buttons his shirt, and studies him for a moment* Maybe a little younger.

the_death_card: I got mine... *thinks, quickly* four years ago. After I got settled. *after he got his feet back under him after leaving the system, that is*

onebehind: For obvious reasons, or ... ? *since, you know, it's a skeleton key*

the_death_card: *grins* Yeah. Nothing's ever locked. *a beat and, a little hesitantly, since it's a personal question* What's the tree?

onebehind: *he moves to sit down, leaning forward on his kness, his arms draped over them, and arches his eyebrows* You really need to ask? *there's a giant tree in Central Park with a plaque with his father's name on it next to it. and yeah, okay, maybe that's just as obvious as having just the Eye tattooed on his back, but it's kind of a hiding in plain sight thing. people rarely ever ask about it, as such, and when they do, he has a story prepared about a drunk night in college*

the_death_card: *sits back again when Dylan sits down* That's what I thought.

onebehind: *he's silent for a moment and then* It was ... kind of my way of comitting. *which he realizes doesn't make a lot of sense* It's hard to explain. *he was going to give up, hence why he was getting the Eye tattoo, but ... he changed his mind halfway through. the tree over it was kind of his way of honoring his father and marking his comittment so he couldn't try to forget it again, both*

the_death_card: *nods* I get it. *and he thinks he does, even if he doesn't know the details. getting the key had as much to do with the fact that it had been a long while since he had been confronted with a lock he couldn't open as it had to do with the fact that he was... opening his own doors, so to speak, and away from anyone who would try to control his life*

onebehind: *he takes a moment to study Jack, and then nods slowly. he can believe that he does get it, and even if he doesn't, at least it spares him having to explain* I figured, maybe, you might.

the_death_card: *offers him a warmer smile as he kicks his feet up onto the table again*