milliways_bar | (no subject)

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After his recent conversation with Sherlock, Jim is in a very strange mood. Sort of angry, sort of excited, a little bit sad and a whole lot frustrated. This is why he can be found in front of the Observation Window today, looking at it practically upside-down - he's pulled a sofa over and sprawled on it, his head hanging over the side to get the view he wants. His phone sends Bach through his earbuds, his favourite, and there's a lot of black coffee half-drunk on the table next to him. Ugh, it's going to be one of those days.

[OOC: Plotlocked to X, say thankya! Now posted on 100% the correct day. I know when Sunday is, you can't say I don't. You're not my real mom.]

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X stops at Bar this morning, asking her the question that Feuilly put into her mind.

That question? Who left the package for Feuilly a week or so ago.

The answer leads her to Jim's couch, where she looks down at him.

Silently.

Is she waiting?

Edited 2016-03-27 15:01 (UTC)

Is she waiting?

Jim stares blankly into the exploding vortex of the universe as Bach's Partita No. 1 finishes. Only when silence falls does he swivel his eyes to look at her, not moving any other part of himself from his rag-doll collapse.

"You will not be able to leave packages with Bar, anymore. Until someone inspects them."

That someone probably being X.

"Letters, too."

Because anthrax.

He closes his eyes now, and smiles.

'What are you talking about?'

This is a flat statement, bored, a not-really-show of innocence that he only bothers to affect because Jim from I.T. would. Except that idiot would say it like he meant it, and Jim can't be arsed with that.

"I asked Bar."

Beat.

"You left a package. For Feuilly. It is what blew up the stables."

A pause.

"You knew he would not be able to tell. What it was."

Edited 2016-03-27 15:23 (UTC)

His smile widens, but he does not open his eyes and it appears to have a self-mocking edge now. That's what it came down to?

'How would I know that? I don't know what he's found out since he came here.'

He turns the music off with an idle swipe of his finger. The silence is awful, and allows a load of thoughts to coming crashing back in. Ugh.

"You are probably not terrible at making inferences."

Come on, Jim.

"I pay attention."

'Oh, I don't doubt it.'

He turns his head to look at her now, lazy, unconcerned, slightly contemptuous. He keeps the English accent, but no other attempt at pretending to be stupid.

'Don't hover, my dear. There are other chairs.'

"X."

She does not move.

"Sitting will not make me slower to react."

In case he was hoping.

His eyebrow jerk upwards.

'Do I look like I'm about to attack you?'

Does he look stupid? Has he, in fact, moved at all barring a turn of his head and touching his phone?

'Don't be stupid. Stupid's boring.'

"Pointless explosions that generate more work. For me. Are also stupid."

She's just saying.

"And boring."

Edited 2016-03-27 15:54 (UTC)

He shrugs one shoulder, suddenly impish.

Imagine how much he cares about her opinion.

X just looks at him, unimpressed.

(And unamused.)

"You will spend a week meditating. With me. And working in the greenhouse."

Beat.

"With me."

And sleeping in the cells. With her watching.

'Are you going to come and sleep with me too?'

He'd be OK with that. But mostly he just looks regretful, and shakes his head.

'Thanks, but no thanks. Better things to do.'

He actually has no interest in resisting - there is never anything better to do than anything, actually: it's all the same sort of pointless - but he's very interested in her reactions.

X considers this, head tilting very slightly.

Then --

"If you have nightmares. Maybe."

It's the truth!

"You do not have a choice. Unless you want to leave. Milliways. And not come back."

'I can't leave Milliways.'

The outrage!

'I've just run into my BFF, darling. And you can come on to me all you want, he's more interesting any day of the week.'

Quite delicious, and most certainly due some serious attention. But Jim waves this off with a lazy hand, and turns his face back towards the window.

'How do we get out there? Why can't we see it from the grounds?'

"You can if I say you will."

Or she will ask Mike about shoving him out through the Lost and Found.

It's happened before! Hopefully Jim enjoys the New Jersey Turnpike. And the wolves.

"You will get there," she says, following the direction of his gaze.

"Someday."

If he were looking at her now, he might see her eyes filled with stars. But alas.

"Atmosphere interferes. And there is illusion in the way. Too. Most people feel safer when they cannot see."

He ignores her first comment, because yawn.

'Most people are dull.'

How's that for a screaming understatement, all the louder for the quiet tone he uses. So there is illusion in the way - which means it's still there, which means it's reachable, which means...

...he smiles. It's gentle, almost resigned.

'Don't talk like you know me.'

This is almost an afterthought, a throwaway dismissal.

X tilts her head, studying him momentarily.

"You think I do not."

Interesting.

'Astound me. Show me how thick I am.'

Double yawn. Triple yawn.

X studies him a little bit longer, this time.

Then --

"No."

Beat.

"That would be boring. Too."

He turns his gaze back to her.

'Of course it would. You're right, you are getting it.'

The English accent can go, there's no point to it. This level of ennui can't support it. He wonders what Sherlock's doing. Whether he's still in his sheet. Getting dressed is also boring - the thought huffs a laugh out of him, and a spark of amusement manages to live for three seconds or so, before dying away.

'If I come in here dead one day, I want you to throw me into space. Into that.'

A slight nod to the window. Good luck guessing if he's telling the truth or not.

X just looks at him, green eyes unblinking.

"You do not have to be dead. For me to do that."

You know. If he wants.

"If you want."

'Oh, shut up. If you're going to resort to threats, we're never going to get on.'

Jim is all about making friends, but there are so few people - well, none so far - who are worth the effort.

X shrugs, one-shouldered and quick.

"Some people are self-destructive."

What?

"I remember."

Petty revenge that will obviously get a person caught seems a little self-destructive, to X. So she's curious. (Kind of.)