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[mrballisticsdummy]

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[statementfuckingends]

"Order of the Phoenix, then," he replies cheerfully, putting the beer on the table before he slams bodily into the cushion next to Jacobi.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi wraps an arm around his shoulders and then tries to drag him forward so he can snag a beer. "That's the one, yup."

[statementfuckingends]

And of course he'll let himself get dragged forward, using the motion to harvest a handful of dry snacks and a few pieces of hard cheese.

"You know, I have to wonder if there's any copies of the series left in paper form in the library now," he muses, not trying to hide the grin in his voice.

[mrballisticsdummy]

And then Jacobi's legs are in his lap as he leans back on the couch, taking his arm away to open his beer. "Why? Thinking of catching up on your YA reading?"

[statementfuckingends]

He tips his head in joking acknowledgement. "Oh yeah, I'm thinking about starting up a book club for the kids, you know?" He pops a cracker into his mouth and continues, mouth half full, "It's not like any of them will have read it before, might as well start with the classics."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Oh sure. They can start with Harry Potter and the Mountain of Trauma. Or Harry Potter Goes to Therapy. That's the kind of books those kids need," he snorts.

[statementfuckingends]

"Harry Potter and the Literally Everything And Everyone Trying To Kill Me," he intones dramatically. "Highly relatable to the youths."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Harry Potter and the Lack of Parental Oversight," he cackles. "Say what you want about my dad, but at least my mom still likes me! And I was a very well behaved youth."

[statementfuckingends]

"What, no little baby Daniel waddling around with party poppers stashed in his nappy like a real-life Rugrat?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Nah, I built Lego sets and then dropped them off the second floor to watch them smash," he grins. "Finding pieces for weeks."

[statementfuckingends]

"Yeah, that's about what I expected."

Hand now free of snacks, he rests an elbow to dig into Jacobi's shin so he can lean forward and grab his own beer.

"Christ, I forgot about the bloody horse things," he comments abruptly when his eyes catch the screen.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"They are called thestrals, you uncultured swine," he teases, moving his leg away at the pressure of his elbow.

"They act like it's such a big deal, but literally everyone on this ship would be able to see one."

[statementfuckingends]

"Think that says more about the general state of people who come on the Barge than the thistles." And he drawls the word shamelessly just to torment Jacobi. "Or at least the number who can't see them here is single digit."

[mrballisticsdummy]

He groans, elbowing him in the side before taking a drink. "Shut up. Does seeing dead people walking around count? I mean, they see the ghosts and those don't count."

[statementfuckingends]

"Isn't their whole thing about how you have to personally witness someone die?" he counters, gesturing his drink at the screen.

But the thought makes him pause, and he frowns. "...huh. I don't actually think I counted until after I got here."

[mrballisticsdummy]

He raises a brow. "Yeah?" And then he frowns. "Oh shit. Sorry. That was my bad, huh?"

[statementfuckingends]

"Sure was. Wanker." And yet it's said so affectionately. "But if it hadn't been you, some flood or another would've fixed that right up."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Oh probably. Or just living your life on the Barge would do it." He shrugs. "My first was April 24, 2009. Well, my first two, I guess. At the - uh...accident in Ohio."

[statementfuckingends]

"Ah." His hand drapes on Jacobi's leg for a second, giving him a sympathetic pat just above his knee. "Yeah, that seems like it'd do it."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Old wounds, Tim," he reminds him. "It's not a big deal. I've - uh - done a lot worse since then, you know. Intentionally."

[statementfuckingends]

He tips his head to that. "True. Still. First time for something always has a way of sticking with you."

He slouches back into the couch as he takes a swig. "But hey, we've nearly gotten you to the point where not everything is worth the dynamite."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Yeah," he says softly. "We have, huh? I - don't even really want to kill Hilbert."

A pause.

"Again."

[statementfuckingends]

"Did doing it right the first time take it out of you, or is he just not worth it anymore?" There's a slightly teasing edge at the start, but the side glance he gives Jacobi is sincere, curious.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Mostly because you can't improve perfection. But also - it doesn't matter here."

He pauses, trying to keep the teasing edge of his tone. "Plus, the last time - I did it and it got Maxwell killed."

It's the first time he's flirted with having any responsibility for what happened, and that feels terrible. He takes a very long drink to compensate.

[statementfuckingends]

Tim's gaze flicks over to Jacobi again while he takes his scull, but he looks back at the screen instead. Not watching, just wanting to tread carefully. Thinking hard about how to steer in these uncharted waters.

There's a few silent false starts, as he puts his bottle to his lips to hide their movement, but his silence is only a few seconds total, hardly more than a pause. "It was a bad call," he says, but his voice is only sympathetic. "And sometimes those aren't learning experiences, or moments of wisdom you can look back on fondly later. Sometimes it's just... bad. It hurts, and it sucks."