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[mrballisticsdummy]

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[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi is suddenly very, very sober.

"Ah." He folds his arms across his chest. "Alright. So tell me."

[epistemological]

He'll point to his temple, then curl his finger around to the, well, the obvious answer. There's a click as he pointedly turns a tape recorder off.

"Destroy them."

[mrballisticsdummy]

His eyes flick over to the click of the recorder, but swallows hard at the knowledge. And then - then it's gone. His soft demeanor leaves and he returns to himself again.

"Alright," he says, clapping his hands together once. "Sounds good. I'll remember that. So. Anything else?"

[epistemological]

A breath out, clear relief, and he knows Jacobi-

He knows Jacobi takes it seriously. He can't get the memory out of his mind, the way his arms had turned from grabbing to holding. The look on his face when he'd walked away. The look on his face when he'd broken in that very chair and stopped.

For him.

He knows he made the right choice. He knows, inmate or no, Jacobi-

Jacobi will take care of it. He trusts him.

"No. No, just- just be careful. He's probably taking what he can while things aren't working properly. Don't be surprise if a certain name pops out of his mouth. He likes to hurt people like that.

"I wish I could do more."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi leans forward, arms on his knees.

And he will take care of this. There's no other way around it. He will take care of Jon. Do what he needs. Because he loves him so deeply that it doesn't matter what it is. Jacobi will sacrifice whatever he has.

"Oh good. Well, I guess a little taste of my own medicine won't kill me."

[epistemological]

Jon will give him a very flat look.

"None of that. He's a 200 year old violent narcissist. No one deserves any of what he has to offer, quite frankly."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi snorts. "I can't be hurt by Maxwell. And if I can, then I nee to get stronger. Because she's not my weak spot. She can't be."

[epistemological]

"I never said she was," he says quietly, "but he will use her on what is. Honestly, I'm mostly hoping he's so spoiled for choice he doesn't get too much from anyone. When it was the lot of us in the Archives, it was a small group. Easy to watch."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"He and I don't talk," he says softly. "So I think he would be better sticking with easier targets." He shrugs.

[epistemological]

"Hopefully," he says, and the fact that they haven't seen each other much since the trouble started? That's encouraging.

"I... I might be scarce for a bit. The less we associate while this is happening-"

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi just blinks at him.

"That's stupid," he says plainly. "Don't go all tragic hero on me. It's really overdone. Also, you don't have the right haircut for it."

[epistemological]

His laugh is... it's a little hollow. Tired.

"Far more romantic than I've ever been. I'm just- I'd prefer he didn't target you. I get-

"Frankly, I get stupid when the people I care about are hurt. And no one needs me being stupid."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Oh you get stupid when people you care about get hurt? You do? Sure. Okay. Yeah. Buddy, we're in this together. And I'm not going to let him dictate my life. I'm tired of megalomaniacal assholes telling me what to do and forcing me to act a certain way."

He leans forward.

"Fuck Elias," he says with a laugh.

[epistemological]

He makes a very sour face.

"Ugh, I'm sure someone has or will. People here are remarkably stupid about that sort of thing, honestly."

But he'll laugh at the end, because yes, that's- that's a very nice idea. Fuck Elias indeed.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi makes the same face. "Ugh, Jon! I wasn't going there, and I was perfectly happy thinking of him as a nice little Ken doll, but then you had to go and ruin it."

Ew, Jon.

[epistemological]

"Yes, well, I had to have an exhaustive conversation with at least one person on why you absolutely shouldn't, not to mention him and his little friend deciding to violate the single request I've ever made of this space, namely not to fuck in it."

He shakes his head.

"Then I've had to explain to Mr. Givens, his warden, why or why not he should consider giving the man back the bones of what was clearly his ex- it's just- ugh."

More headshaking.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Wow. That's - a lot."

And he takes a moment to really digest all of that, then latches onto the least offensive part of it.

"Bones, Jon? What the fuck? Did he also ask for a bracelet of their hair? Maybe a really hideous locket so that when he dies, he comes back as a tragic Victorian ghost in a nightgown?"

[epistemological]

Absolutely flat as a board:

"...he kept them. in his office. and read me the last letter the man ever wrote to him from a Lonely domain."

It was fucked. up.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Ew."

He shakes his head. "Jon, if I ever get that pathetic, please kill me."

[epistemological]

"I refuse on the principle that you will never be that pathetic. Or victorian."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi straightens up and adopts a terrible accent. It's very Dick Van Dyke à la Mary Poppins.

"Who me? Am I not posh enough for you? I can be very Victorian! Yes. Let's drink tea and be very tragic and hang around graveyards."

[epistemological]

"Christ, that's awful," he says, but he's laughing by the end. "Never do that again. Please."

[mrballisticsdummy]

He continues.

"What? This is what I hear when you talk!" he teases, picking up a pencil to twirl between his fingers.

[epistemological]

"That's not- no. No, I don't talk anything like that- that's- that's some sort of bastard child cockney wishes it could forget and something I can't even imagine."

He shakes his head firmly.

"My grandmother would rise from her grave if I spoke like that."

[mrballisticsdummy]

He can't keep it up. Whatever he wanted to say next dissolves into laughter as he leans back in the chair. "Alright, fine. I've had to change my voice on calls before. But rest assured, I've never done that."