"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.
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."
"It wasn't - ," he starts, but it's more of a recitation than an actual feeling to it. Because - wasn't it partly on him?
He heard Maxwell say she wouldn't do it, he heard Kepler pushing, but he also heard the way Minkowski sounded. He could hear it in her voice.
He blinks, tears appearing there, surprising in their intensity. He reaches up to brush them away. It wasn't only his call, but it was his call. Ohio wasn't only his call, but it was his call.
"Shit. Tim. Shitshitshit." He shakes his head. "I'm such an idiot."
The 'I told you so' is so thick in his throat that he has to physically swallow it down. It's the last thing he actually wants to say.
"Well," he says instead, "you're not going to make it again. Are you? No more..." He presses his lips for a moment, looking for the right word. "...complacency. You're better than that."
It's not a demand, or a cajoling threat. It's just... quiet. Gentle. An acknowledgement.
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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."
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A pause.
"Again."
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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.
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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."
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He heard Maxwell say she wouldn't do it, he heard Kepler pushing, but he also heard the way Minkowski sounded. He could hear it in her voice.
He blinks, tears appearing there, surprising in their intensity. He reaches up to brush them away. It wasn't only his call, but it was his call. Ohio wasn't only his call, but it was his call.
"Shit. Tim. Shitshitshit." He shakes his head. "I'm such an idiot."
And he throws a blanket at him.
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Not that he gets to comment immediately, when a blanket gets smacked into his face.
But he wrestles it into quick submission, even putting his beer down to give Jacobi his proper attention. "Jacobi?"
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He sighs. "My bad call. I could have refused but...I didn't."
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"Well," he says instead, "you're not going to make it again. Are you? No more..." He presses his lips for a moment, looking for the right word. "...complacency. You're better than that."
It's not a demand, or a cajoling threat. It's just... quiet. Gentle. An acknowledgement.
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"Yes, sir," he says and the sound bubbles into a laugh. A relieved, almost desperate sound, but still a laugh.
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And then he throws the blanket back in Jacobi's face. "Here's a hankie for you, son."
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This isn't the end of his thought process; far from it. He has a lot he needs to do and to consider.
But as painful as it feels to him, there's something freeing about it. And that's the feeling he focuses on.