(no subject)

[the_death_card]

Who: Dylan and Jack
What: The bad nights, dealing with them, and learning new skills


the_death_card: *his issues with sleep aren't nearly as bad as they used to be, but he does still have trouble falling asleep now and then, and it usually leads to him reading or watching some late night show or... something until he gets sleepy. last night actually wasn't one of those nights. he fell asleep quickly enough - but he woke with a start a few hours later, covered in sweat, his heart pounding, his own hand going to cover his mouth the moment he was aware enough to realize he'd been making noise - instinct leftover from when he was sharing space with anywhere from one to a dozen other people - and when the last thing he wanted to do was have someone realize he was awake. it took him a moment, as it always did, to realize he was twenty-four, not twelve, and in their very secure suite in a very nice hotel and that the ghosts who still haunted his subconscious didn't remember him as anything but a number on a tax form. there wasn't the embarassment there had been at first, the worry that one of the others might have heard him, and he was more grateful for that than he had been able to tell any of them yet. he settled back after a moment, after his breathing was back to normal, reaching for the deck of cards under the edge of the mattress. he'd be lucky if he managed to just drop them in a neat pile by the side of the bed, but focusing on the now mindless task of shuffling them was the quickest way he'd found to get back to sleep*

the_death_card: *most of the cards were on the floor when he woke again, a few remaining scattered across the bed, but he ignored them as a glance at the window showed a sky just beginning to lighten, and he changed quickly, grabbing his hoodie as he slipped out of his room and down the stairs to the main part of the suite*

onebehind: *he's sitting at the kitchen table when Jack comes down, reading the paper, a cup of coffee, half finished, in front of him. there's another sitting in the place across from him, untouched and still steaming, as if he's expecting someone, and well, he is. Jack didn't quite wake him up last night -- he hadn't been able to fall asleep in the first place, though not because of nightmares or the like -- but he heard him all the same. he'd been halfway to his room, not entirely sure what he was going to do when he got there but going all the same, when Henley had stepped out of hers. she'd stopped him with a shake of her head and gestured him downstairs. he'd followed. apparently, according to her -- and Merritt, in the conversation they had the other night -- this was a regular thing, not specifically for Jack, but for at least one of them, every so often, and that one of the others usually stayed up, made tea or coffee or whatever, and waited until whoever it was decided they weren't going back to sleep or that they were going to stop pretending to try to. tonight was her night to stay up. or would have been if he hadn't told her to go back to bed, that he'd take care of it, and she hadn't reluctantly agreed. so, there's the story. he's been sitting here catching up on the news since last night and made coffee when he started hearing movement upstairs. he looks up when he sees Jack, catching his eyes over the half-wall the divides the kitchen from the rest of the downstairs, lowers the paper, and then inclines his head faintly in the direction of the other cup*

the_death_card: *had been headed for the kitchen, since he's actually gotten used to someone being up, and there being coffee, and he should probably just stop trying to deny that he enjoys and appreciates it, since he's likely only fooling himself at this point. but anyway. he stops for a moment, hoodie half on, when he sees Dylan, and there's likely something hesitant - and something young - about his expression when Dylan looks up, though it doesn't have anything to do with Dylan himself. he's been around the others long enough to get over the embarrassment, but Dylan's still new, and he respects the hell out of him, and.... still, it doesn't stop him moving on into the kitchen after the moment passes* Thanks.

onebehind: *he sets the paper down, a little hesitant somehow, himself. he told Henley he'd stay up so Jack wouldn't be alone when he got up, but he's ... not entirely sure what he's supposed to do. they didn't exactly cover that part* You're welcome.

the_death_card: *doesn't really know what to say, either, and as much as he did get back to sleep, there wasn't all that much of it. the tired-quiet's kind of normal in these mornings. he finishes pulling his hoodie on and slides into the chair across from Dylan, reaching for the coffee and kind of huddling over it for a moment before he takes a drink*

onebehind: *he takes a drink of his own coffee, watching him quietly but closely. if Daniel spent enough time around Merritt to know what mentalism looked like, Jack probably has, too, and he's definitely reading Jack, trying to decide whether or not he should ask or keep his mouth shut*

the_death_card: *he has, yeah. and Dylan's welcome to ask - Jack's actually pretty far from closed off. he's obviously tired, and there's still some of that nervous hesitancy there - but he doesn't know how Dylan reacted when Merritt told him about all of them having issues sleeping, so that's probably got a lot to do with it*

onebehind: *he sets his cup down, breathes out a sigh and wets his lips with his tongue. despite the fact that Jack's not closed off, the nervousness is ... counterproductive, not that he entirely blames him, all things considered. either way, though, he recognizes that he needs something to break it* I'm not gonna ... *bite his head off or judge him, but he doesn't say that, doesn't finish that statement, if only because it doesn't feel right. he shakes his head a little and then tries again* You're not the only person who has issues sleeping, sometimes. *and from the look he gives Jack, he's not talking about the other Horsemen*

the_death_card: *looks up at him over the top of his cup when he starts, setting it down when he goes on - and also settling back in his chair a little* We are kind of our own chapter of insomniacs anonymous around here sometimes.

onebehind: *he breathes out a sigh of a laugh, though the sound lacks any real humor* I'm pretty sure we're entitled to it.

the_death_card: *smiles faintly, tiredly* Yeah. *and now he looks like he wants to go on, though for a moment it doesn't look like he's going to. finally, though...* How much did you know about us?

onebehind: *immediately and honestly* Most of it. *a beat* The FBI only had files on you and Merritt, before they brought you in for the interrogation after Vegas, then they cobbled together anything they could find, but I did enough digging beforehand. *there's another pause, this one longer* It's part of the reason I picked you. All of you.

the_death_card: *he doesn't seem surprised by that - he knows about the various files on him that are out there. even if a lot of them are supposed to be sealed, he doubts that'd stop anyone who was doing serious digging. not that he minds all that much either, actually, though he probably should mind more that most of his early life is laid out on official paperwork. he got used to it. he tilts his head a little when Dylan goes on, though* Because we're all messed up?

onebehind: Because you knew what it felt like to have people screw you. Because you'd be okay with hurting someone -- someones -- who did the same to other people. *because he saw himself in each of them* Because you deserved to be on top for a change. Because you deserved something positive.

onebehind: *oh, and for the record, going through that, he's gotten more and more ... angry or zealous or something during the course of spitting that out, though none of it is directed at Jack*

the_death_card: *is quiet for a long moment while he just kind of... absorbs that - and Dylan's obvious passion about it. Dylan probably actually can see the rest of the hesitancy slide away before Jack lets out a breath that takes a fair bit of tension with it, too. and, finally, again....* Thanks.

onebehind: *he breathes out a sigh of his own, largely to come down, and scrubs a hand over his face. when he drops it, he offers him a small, almost embarrassed smile, and all the same, sincerely ... * You're welcome.

the_death_card: I told you about the rug. *that he was waiting on being pulled out from under him, considering all the other times he thought he had something good, only to have it sour. and oh, look, the narration just had more feels, anyway.* This one's starting to feel like it might be different. *and maybe it's just because of how hard they had to work for this one and how they had to push past the fact that it could get taken away or how it wasn't all always good. or something.*

onebehind: *teasingly* Does that mean you're planning on unpacking now? *a beat, and then very earnestly and before he can answer that* I'm glad.

the_death_card: *that draws a real laugh out of him, and he reaches up to run a hand over his head. and then, once he's dropped his hand again* Me, too.

onebehind: *he offers him a slow, fond smile and takes a sip of his coffee. it's faded into something like vague worry by the time he lowers it* So ... *a beat* ... should I ask?

the_death_card: *takes another drink of coffee, too, pausing for a moment at the question. he still doesn't close off, but he does sober, some, and it's clear he's remembering* I had some good fosters, in the system. *that feels important to say first, because most of them were good, but...* But I had a few... *and just shakes his head*

onebehind: ... and those are the ones that stick with you. *he breathes out a heavy sigh* I'm sorry. And yeah, I get that it's not my fault, but ... *again with him being so angry on their behalves*

the_death_card: *looks up at him through his lashes, without raising his head, and then nods a little* It's not. And it's been six years since any of it mattered. But thanks, anyway. And again. *for picking him*

onebehind: *he shrugs a little* Like I said, you deserved better.

the_death_card: *looks at him again for a moment, gratefully, since he's not sure what else to say on that front. and then....* So'd I wake you up, or could you not sleep either?

onebehind: *he glances briefly at the clock then offers him a wry smile* I haven't slept more than a couple of hours in ... maybe three or four days. *which probably explains at least part of why his expressions have been so open without him having to try too much*

the_death_card: *more than likely. he immediately frowns, though, and considering Dylan shares some of Merritt's observational skills, it's probably almost like a switch has been thrown, as Jack forgets his own lack of sleep and focuses on Dylan's* You okay, or...?

onebehind: Yeah. *he hesitates and then* I'm honestly not sure what the problem is. It's not a case of -- of nightmares or overthinking or whatever. *he just lays down and stares at the ceiling until he gets frustrated* I think I might have screwed up my sleep schedule somewhere over the course of the last couple of months. *or he's so used to having so many plates spinning and not having time to sleep much that he has no idea what to do with himself now that he can*

the_death_card: You mean you actually slept during the last couple of months? *he's teasing, a little, but there's also the fact that the closer things got to kicking off, the less any of the four of them slept. hence him falling asleep in the interrogation room, actually. it was a break in the action*

onebehind: *he laughs* Yeah, no, that's the screwed up part.

the_death_card: *grins a little. he figured as much. but the grin doesn't last long before he nods* That'd do it.

onebehind: Generally. *he takes a sip of his coffee* That's what they made coffee for, though. *and alcohol, when he needs a night cap to sleep*

the_death_card: *raises his cup to him in a sort of toast, agreeing with that, and takes a drink* And we've all gotten pretty good at making coffee, when people need it. *and that's an offer for him to be included in their whole thing of being up at weird hours if he needs it*

onebehind: *he mirrors the gesture, taking a sip of his coffee. when he lowers the cup, he studies him for a moment, and then manages a little, almost embarrassed smile* Thanks.

the_death_card: *mirrors the smile, his own a little embarrassed, too. there's still a lot of awe of Dylan in there. but he is one of them, even if - or maybe especially because - he's the one that stuck them all together in the first place* You're welcome.

onebehind: *all that out there, a long moment of silence follows as Dylan nurses his coffee and watch him, and then ... * ... you know, Daniel's planning on bringing you back from the dead.

the_death_card: *blinks at him for a moment before he grins, and he's mostly joking* Being dead was kinda getting old.

onebehind: *his expression shifts just the tiniest bit, though it's hard to tell how, exactly, and he covers it well enough with a smile* Yeah, I've heard that happens.

the_death_card: Guess we'll have your guys on our asses again. *though he seems to be looking forward to that*

onebehind: *and then the smile is real* I'm gonna be all over you assholes.

the_death_card: *laughs, again, and then, apparently seriously, though the grin's still there* Next time you haul me into an interrogation room, some pillows would be nice.

onebehind: *snorts* You get that's not how it works, right? *and yeah, he knows Jack knows that, but ... *

the_death_card: *apparently actually confused* Really? Because it seemed like all anybody got out of that was a nap.

onebehind: *he looks at him for a moment and then laughs. hard* Smart ass.

the_death_card: I'm pretty sure that's in my file. *and then more or less beams at him. never mind that it might actually be in there*

onebehind: Pretty sure the FBI terms that "blatant disregard for authority" but yeah. Same difference.

the_death_card: That sounds a lot nicer.

onebehind: Little bit. *a beat* Speaking of ... *kind of* ... you owe me a rematch where I don't have to stop myself from actually kicking your ass.

the_death_card: *immediately* You sure it wouldn't just be a repeat of last time?

onebehind: *his smile turns a little vicious -- not that he plans on actually hurting Jack or has any reason to want revenge or whatever. he just can't help himself* Pretty sure, yeah.

the_death_card: *Dylan had to let him get away, before, but he was more focused on getting past Dylan and getting away than actually seriously trying to do damage. even if he totally won that fight. and again, not that he plans on actually hurting Dylan, but they were both holding back, before. a rematch would be different for both of them* Give me a time and place.

onebehind: Sometime before I ... *he makes a vague gesture. before he goes back to work*

the_death_card: When do you have to go back? *not that he wants him to leave, but he's kinda lost track of time and so on*

onebehind: *again, he glances at the clock. this time, it isn't quite so helpful, though* Couple of days?

onebehind: *he's kind of lost track of the time, too. he'd have to look at a calendar*

the_death_card: *makes a face, anyway* Lucky you.

onebehind: *he makes a face, too* Pretty much.

the_death_card: Sorry, dude. *and he means that. he might not have Merritt's skills, but he knows how long Dylan had been working on the plan and can guess how much he needed the break. and Jack, at least, will miss him being around as much, though stuff like that's still something he has trouble saying. it's in his expression, though, if Dylan's looking for it*

onebehind: *he shrugs* I knew this was only temporary. *as much as he wishes it wasn't. as much as he'd like to come home for good* But I'll be around as much as I can, after I go back.

the_death_card: It's not like we're going anywhere, either. *even if they do get back into things, if Daniel gets the show he's been working on off the paper, they're definitely a unit, now*

onebehind: I'd find you, if you did. * ... and he realizes how creepy that might come off as, but ... he didn't mean it like that. he'd just ... do like he did with Alma, if they broke up. show up randomly one morning while they were having their coffee for a chat*

the_death_card: *he knows he didn't, even if he also recognizes it could be creepy. and maybe it would bother the others, but. Jack's good at disappearing. if his blatant disregard for authority is a note in his file, so must be the fact that he ran away from schools, foster parents, and group homes more times than he can really remember and for more reasons than he can really remember. and maybe he never stayed missing long, but he always came back on his own terms, frequently after the hunt had been figuratively called off. so it means something a little different, to and for him* Yeah, kinda figured that.

onebehind: *he flashes him a little smile* Just checking.

the_death_card: You still owe me the flame thing anyway. *grins*

onebehind: *laughs* Among other things, but yeah. *a pause* Which, if you wanted, I could start showing you right now. Assuming you're not too ... *wrung out from not sleeping*

the_death_card: *immediately shakes his head* Nah, I'm good. I got a couple hours. *he might also be ridiculously eager about this, but he's trying to hide that*

onebehind: *that's not working too well for him and he flashes him a smirk before glancing over Jack's shoulder and into the living room as he tries to decide where it'd be best to do this. a moment of thoughtful silence follows, and then he hums and gets to his feet* C'mmon.

the_death_card: *quickly downs the rest of his coffee before he, too, gets to his feet, waiting for Dylan to lead the way*

onebehind: *he turns, glancing over his shoulder at Jack and then heads for the balcony. it's big enough that they'll have room to play, high enough up that no one will notice random shoots of fire, and has the least amount of flammible things, in case this gets out of hand. not that he automatically starts throwing fire around -- instead, he moves to the railing and leans over it for a moment, looking out over the city, then turns to face Jack* The biggest part is ... belief. Knowing real magic's a thing. Knowing guys like you or me can do it. *he pauses, his expression clouding a little* Alma said something to me about faith being able to move mountains, back when we were still chasing you guys. She wasn't wrong.

the_death_card: *stops briefly to shrug back out of his hoodie and toss it onto a chair before he follows Dylan out onto the balcony, leaning against the railing as he listens. and not that he hasn't seen what Dylan can do already and not that he doesn't believe, but...* That's a little Disney movie.

onebehind: *he snorts* Careful, I might steal your voice.

the_death_card: I thought that was my shtick. *you know, with copying Dylan in the apartment*

onebehind: *he arches his eyebrows, his lips twitching as he tries to fight a smirk* Try me.

onebehind: *go ahead. give him a reason*

the_death_card: *and he's just curious, though he also can't quite pass up the dare* Seriously?

onebehind: *he raises his chin a little, wets his lips with his tongue, and then in disturbingly good immitation of Jack's voice* Seriously? *he might be cheating. he might also show Jack this trick sometime*

the_death_card: *grins. he already knows that one, of course, even if he just has the more mundane version, but it's still awesome that he's not the only one that can do it* Guessing there's more to that than how I did it, and you're gonna have to show me that one, too.

onebehind: Guessing there's more to that than how I did it ... *he stops there intentionally and clears his throat* Fair warning, it wouldn't work over the radio, like you did when you did me. *it's, for lack of a better term, a line of sight illusion. it only works if they can physically see and hear you*

the_death_card: *shrugs* It's easier over a phone or radio anyway, when your voice is distorted. *so he wouldn't really need it for that*

onebehind: I might have to have you teach me that. *since, again, it's fairly useless unless he needs to fool someone into thinking there are two people in a room or pulling a disturbingly convincing Big Bad Wolf. but at any rate* I owe you the flash paper trick first, though.

the_death_card: You're on. *and nods* So what first. *a beat, before* After the Disney magic.

onebehind: *he grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like Jack ass under his breath, though he's smiling, then sobers* Put your hands together and pull them apart a little. *he demonstrates, bringing his hands up in front of him like he's praying, then pulls them about an inch apart*

the_death_card: *smirks back at him for the moment and then also goes more serious as Dylan does, raising his hands as he mirrors the gestures*

onebehind: You feel that ... *he hesitates, then stops, not exactly sure how to describe it or able to remember how it was described to him when he was learning. he frowns for a moment, then drops his hands, rubbing his fingers together the same way he did the night he show Jack his tattoo and lit it up for him. he reaches out then, touching his fingers to the back of Jack's hand, a spark jumping from the tips of them to Jack's skin. it doesn't hurt when it contacts, it just chases its way to his palms, jumping between them like a Cat's Cradle. for all the show, though, he's not doing anything beyond lighting up the power between Jack's fingers* ... that ... buzzing. *that's a good word for it*

the_death_card: *keeps his hands where they are but looks back to Dylan as he speaks, raising an eyebrow at that - and then looks back to his hands, grinning at the light show like he did when he found his card. and in case it wasn't obvious...* Yeah.

onebehind: *he hums, unable to stop from smiling a bit himself as he watches Jack's face. a moment passes in silence, and then when the light disappates ... * It's about being able to direct that through your fingers. Like -- like a current or a whip. *or, obviously, a belch of fire* Usually, I imagine I have flash paper on me. It helps.

the_death_card: *nods and, distracted, as he's still looking at his hands, focused on that feeling* Is what you did *to demonstrate and to light up his tattoo, that is* the same thing? You just... aim it differently?

onebehind: *he nods* Yeah. *a beat* Not all of it works like that, but ... *getting in someone's head is different, for example, but most of what he has to show Daniel and Jack works on that principle* ... yeah.

the_death_card: *well, he figured that much, but yeah, he meant this sort of thing, and he nods again, before...* Okay. *he shifts, so if this does work, he won't hit Dylan, and drops his left hand, holding his right hand palm up in front of him, trying to keep hold of what he could feel between his hands. mimicking Dylan, he rubs his fingers together briefly before he gestures, like he was throwing actual flash paper. and, to his admitted surprise, he manages a good size gout of flame. and, immediately* Dude!

onebehind: *he was honestly not expecting that. not that he thinks Jack -- or any of them -- is incompetent or not smart enough to pick up on whatever he shows them, it's just ... well, it took him more than a few tries to get it right the first time, himself. so, here, Jack. have him looking impressed. and maybe very dimly jealous, though it'd probably take Merritt to pick up on that* Good.

the_death_card: *neither was he, really, so it's okay. but again with having lots of practice believing he's not going to lose. he grins at him again* Thanks.

onebehind: Think you can do it again? *again, not that he doubts him or thinks it was a fluke or whatever*

the_death_card: *doesn't respond verbally to that, just rubbing his fingers together again before he repeats the gesture. there's another small burst of flame, though it's a good bit smaller than the first, though from his expression that wasn't on purpose*

onebehind: *even so, he's still impressed, and he breathes out a sigh, shaking his head a little* You know, it took me about a week and a half to get that.

the_death_card: *and with his attention still on his hands* Maybe I've got a better teacher. *shrugs*

onebehind: Or maybe you've got a knack for this. *a beat* When we were in the apartment, I had a second or two where I wondered if you didn't know what you were doing already, as far as all of this goes. *he nods to Jack's hands and then wryly* I still don't know how the hell you got that poker from me.

the_death_card: *looks back up at him and laughs shortly* Magic being an actual real thing had never really occurred to me, but sometimes things did seem to come easier. *maybe he'd hit on it accidentally? he doesn't really know. he smirks a little as he goes on, though his tone is earnest. he's clearly either teasing or being a smart ass or both again* You just handed it to me.

onebehind: *it's possible. it happens, sometimes. rather than say anything to that effect, however, he rolls his eyes at Jack, trying to come off as annoyed despite the fact that he's grinning* Yeah, right. Of course I did.

the_death_card: *grins back* Though really, same as everything else we've done. It was just misdirection. *and he really did just reach out and take it while Dylan was busy shielding his face from the flash paper. it was mostly timing and the fact that he has way too much practice taking things off people without them noticing*

onebehind: Still. *well played, dude*

the_death_card: *sincerely* Thanks.

onebehind: You're welcome. *he allows him small, fond smile and then, after a moment, backs up conversationally* I'd take it easy if you plan on practicing, by the way. It'll wear you out pretty fast, at first. *and the bigger stuff is still tiring for him. though, whether it's because it is more involved or because he doesn't have as much experience with it, even he doesn't know*

the_death_card: *nods, acknowledging that - both that he intends to practice and Dylan's warning to take it easy* Is fire versus what you did just a difference in visualizing it?

onebehind: *he nods* Yeah. Static electricity versus flash paper. *as far as what he imagines to make it work*

the_death_card: *and just nods again, as he's already raised his hand again, to try it - and this time, absolutely nothing happens, and he lets out a frustrated noise*

onebehind: *getting pissed off isn't going to help anything -- if anything, for him, that only makes it harder -- but he doesn't say that, if only because he doesn't want to come off as patronizing. ... then again, pretty much anything he can possibly say has a chance to, so ... * Take a minute, breathe and try it again.

the_death_card: *he's not nearly as likely to take things the wrong way as Daniel, and he follows the suggestion, letting his hands fall to his sides. he clenches his fists briefly before shaking his hands out, and this time, he raises his left hand, running his thumb over his fingertips for a moment - and after another moment, after he's done it a few times, the motion leaves a faint electrical charge in its wake. there we go.*

onebehind: *yeah, Daniel's going to be hard to teach for that very reason. but at any rate, he grins* There you go.

the_death_card: *still watching it, frowning faintly in concentration as he tries to will it brighter, to make it follow his thumb as he opens his hand slightly. and for a moment, he has it, a faint web stretching from his fingers to thumb - though it fizzles out after a few seconds, and he shakes his hand out* Okay, yeah, I see what you mean. *about it being tiring, though it's different than the kind of tired he was aiming for when he was going to go run, though he's not sure he could put it into words, either*

onebehind: *he's not sure he could, either, but he understands all the same* You wanna give it a break, then?

the_death_card: *lets out a wry laugh* Not sure 'want to''s the right way to put it *considering how fucking awesome this is*, but... *he probably should*

onebehind: But it might not be a bad idea.

the_death_card: *nods* Yeah.

onebehind: Not like it's gonna go anywhere. *not like he won't be able to come back and play later. and that in mind, he pushes away from where he was leaning against the balcony and heads back towards the door*

the_death_card: *and again* Yeah. *and he follows him back inside* Thanks, by the way.

onebehind: *he shrugs -- really, it's nothing* You're welcome.

the_death_card: *it is to him, though. as... well, the narration can't actually remember if it was said or just emoted, the number of people in his life who gave enough of a shit about him to do even a fraction of what Dylan and the other Horsemen have for him since all this started is... kind of low. he doesn't say that, though, just offering him another grin as he stops to grab his hoodie from where he tossed it*

onebehind: *well, as he has said, Jack deserves it -- they all do. but at any rate, he glances at the hoodie and then up at him* Still planning on going out? *or ... ?*

the_death_card: *pauses for a moment, actually considering that, considering if he needs it, and finally* Maybe later. *mostly picked up the hoodie out of that continuing issue learning the trick of unpacking*