TLV Inbox

[greatoldjohn]

[in a rather deep voice] "This is John Doe. Please leave your message. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I may respond in text if I'm currently with Arthur. Apologies."

Now Moved To: Inbox: Act II - please tag in there!

Comments

[greatoldjohn]

Because I don't want to.

I'll tell you where I stand with you; I thought I had.

I'll tell you what I think if you're concerned about something you've done.

But I'm not sharing anything from her file. That's a boundary I'm putting in place right now.

[citizendetective]

Fine, then; tell me about anything that's not from the file.

[greatoldjohn]

I know that you took her around, breaking into rooms and stealing drugs and alcohol from them.

I don't know why but I can guess.

[citizendetective]

[Her face shifts, turning more subdued, and she nods.]

Right. I was wondering if anybody had told you about that.

[greatoldjohn]

I have a lot of time to read.

Is there something you think I should know about all of that?

[citizendetective]

That I wasn't trying to hurt her.

[But there's a reflective quality to her tone that suggests that she's at least partially aware that she sort of had anyway.]

[greatoldjohn]

[ A sigh. ]

I didn't think you were. Even though yes, I think... it didn't help.

[citizendetective]

Well, I want you to know that I would never try to hurt her. I've only ever tried to help.

[greatoldjohn]

I knew that.

I can't imagine you ever wanting to hurt her on purpose.

[citizendetective]

[Misty's body language relaxes, albeit only just a little. Still, she moves to sit down again, her eyes straying back to that picture on the wall as she does.]

Well. It's appreciated.

[greatoldjohn]

[ He might just try to block her view again and sloooowly lead her back to the white wall. ]

It's clear you feel passionately about her, Misty. The one promise I can make to you is this: I will never assume that you mean to harm her or make things worse for her.

Even if you do, even if something goes wrong or you do something that does hurt her, I'm never going to assume you meant to hurt her.

If we fight, it will be because we disagree on how to help her.

[citizendetective]

Okay...

[She says, leaning to the side in an attempt to see around him. Let her look at the weird painting in peace, please!]

But if we disagree, I don't think it's fair to expect me just to back down.

[greatoldjohn]

[ Ugh, fine. He'll move out of the way. He's stepping in if your ears start bleeding. ]

I never expect you to back down, Misty.

But if we disagree, don't expect me to back down either.

[citizendetective]

So we're just going to fight over her? And, what is that painting, anyway, John?

[greatoldjohn]

I assume we will at some point. Both of us care too much not to.

[ He turns back to look at the mural covering the wall. ]

And that is... where I came from. Or as close as paint can show.

[citizendetective]

Oh, that's true; anger is her love language.

[You just keep telling yourself that, Misty. She stands again, walking over so that she can get a good look at it up close.]

And mine is acts of service!

[greatoldjohn]

[ He already doesn't agree with that. But it's already clear to him that he needs to help her find out what her love language is. How to express how she feels and what matters to her. ]

That makes sense to me.

[ He is watching her, just in case. What he is, what he's been, even touching it can warp human minds. And what he is isn't unconnected from what he was, and what he was wasn't unconnected from where he reigned.

...he hadn't really planned on leaving it uncovered with bookshelves. Or hosting so soon. ]

[citizendetective]

It's a beautiful piece of artwork.

[She murmurs, only stopping when she's a couple feet away from the painting. The longer she looks, the more she sees, and the more she wants to see. If only she could step inside it, she knows that she could spend hours, or days, or lifetimes galavanting around the ruins, exploring and cataloging every inch. If only...

She reaches out a hand towards it, shuffling closer.]

Can I...

[And then, with a sharp pain in her head and a sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness, she crumples to the floor.]

[greatoldjohn]

Oh, for fuck's sake...

[ John can't even hope to catch her, but at least she crumples and there's nothing to hit, just soft carpet. This does, however, present a problem.

Which is why he's going to hook his hand under her arm to start dragging her back out to the main office. And call Pagan. ]

[citizendetective]

No, wait--

[She protests in a mumble, hissing in pain as the movement exacerbates her nausea. She digs her heels into the carpet, but weakly enough that it won't make much of a difference, even to someone barely capable of carrying her along.]

I just want to, I, I-- I need to look at it again.

[greatoldjohn]

[ He's going to go and get a pillow from the chair in Arthur's room, followed by closing the door to his. Then he's going to sit with her. ]

That's probably a bad idea.

[citizendetective]

Does it have a name?

[She tries to turn to look back at the room, but winces, swaying on her feet and very nearly going down again.]

[greatoldjohn]

My old home? Yes.

[ That door is staying shut, Misty. ]

[citizendetective]

Cool.

[She slumps against the nearest piece of furniture, which may or may not be a desk, and may or may not displace the trinkets she'd been looking at earlier.]

What is it?

[greatoldjohn]

[ And he may or may not wince but you can't tell with the mask and all. Arthur would feel it later. ]

Carcosa. Hopefully, you never see the real thing.