maybe it's odd to be so close to someone who he's basically paying to be a glorified bullet sponge in his stead ; or maybe it's stranger that timothy is the only one. he doesn't even think he remembers the names of even ten of the other sorry sonsuvbitches that are still alive—don't even get him started on the ones already dead. the doppelganger program had been a brilliant, expensive, but considerably low-effort on his part idea to bring in a little extra security for hyperion and it's assets : that being, at the time, the guy actually trying to lead advancements in eridium and its applications, and now current company-head. and whether to his credit or ego, it'd been painfully successful, if not occasionally startling whensoever he realizes their dwindling numbers. like, of course people would want him dead, he just sort of ... almost didn't expect this much? yikes. well, whatever—it won't be his problem sooner rather than later, if things pan out like he hopes. they'll practically treat him like a god if his plan comes to fruition.
but as it stands, the current moment is more aggravating than needs be. no one else seems to get his vision—or worse, they do, but they refuse to compromise their own without realizing just what they're losing out on by trying to sell him short. their loss. all it's managing is pissing him off, and that's no fun for anybody. his relief, then, is something palpable by time he's settled himself across from his double. he doesn't really like seeing how he shrinks away, but just looking at him is ... pretty calming, in its own weird way. not quite his face, too soft around the edges, but the softness is what's comforting—to him, timothy watches jack with some meek sort of expectation, and jack meets him in kind with an earnest, if not a little fiery, curiosity.
he's always teetering on some fine edge, but it's been a long, long time since timothy's ever been on the receiving end of his temper. there's no threat when his fingers twitch and thrum : the harshest he'd been since had come in when he pinched his cheeks just then, and even then, he thinks he could've gone longer before getting him to swat his hands away—and jack would have let him, laughing all the while. for now, he just chuffs, keeping his full weight pressed up against the desk and trying not to show how much of a kick he's getting in watching him squirm.
" just a bunch of boring, corporate crap, you aren't gonna care about it. " not that it's stopping him from sharing anyway. he leans back enough to take another look over the faint flickering of his computer screen only to scowl, unraveling himself only enough to have the means to gesture vaguely in front of him. helps shake off the excess energy, when he can talk with his hands. this is the kinder iteration. " i've been trying to negotiate a deal with dahl to get more of their mining equipment for a particularly hot patch of eridium. no one's happy, and as you might suspect, their boss is being kind of a huge dick about the whole thing. " from the inflections in his voice, the unspoken details likely aren't pretty : business rarely is, especially here, when he knows just as well as everyone else that they're out for their own interests in this fucking wasteland. the likely scenario is a good month or three of going back and forth only to end up with an agreement no one likes, but it'll get the job done. he doesn't want to bore him with any of that, though—it's his problem to worry about, and no one's out here actually interviewing any of the doppelgangers without informing him first. " so, yeah— you can see why i'd be so happy to keep the company of someone i actually like. "
it's a rare hint of genuinity ... however much he'd insist he's always genuine ; as honest as a shotgun, but if timothy was left with anything but his word to put his faith in, then jack's demeanor alone might be enough. he's always a bit too relaxed, where he maybe shouldn't be, but when the amusement and cheek wears off, all that's left in it's place is an expression more tender ; head cocked aside to rest against his shoulder as his gaze softens to little beyond a gentle squint. he doesn't need to blush or flounder his way through confession to make his feelings exceptionally clear. for reasons incomprehensible only to some, he's clearly fond of him.
yet it's just as fitting that jack's the one that would break such a tender moment, snorting loudly as he moves to rest both his hands 'gainst the desk edge to hold himself upright. okay, he'll help him out. " aaaanyway ... go ahead and make yourself comfortable, i've got all day. seriously, take a load off. you look like you're about to sweat out of your own skin. relax, it's not like i'm gonna bite your head off. " that, he'd typically suggest, would be any other one of those savages outside their base ; the ones that'd never get their grubby little mitts on a hyperion gun—but poking more fun of him doesn't seem like it's gonna get either one of them anywhere. honestly, he feels a little bad he seems like he's struggling so much—might still pocket the thought of pleasure away for another time, maybe not when he looks about to combust.
though he needn't try compose himself for long : his humor's shed near in an instant, the minute he speaks again. " a ... gift? " maybe this is the most honest he's been, when the mask theoretically slips into true surprise—a feeling that sits a little too sadly on him when his smile drops and expression crinkles from nose to brow. this is the closest they've been, too, at least in terms of mirror : it's rare jack's voice is this quiet for any positive reason. but when his posture slips too, arms falling just enough to wrap ever so slightly around his ribs, he almost looks ... anxious. he sure sounds like it, anyway. " ... yeah? well, i was curious before, but now you've really, really got my attention. "
if not anxious, then outright melancholic. he doesn't make a habit of talking about her with anyone ; it speaks volumes timothy even knows she still exists, when everything else has been stolen right out from under him—his expression twists again, the smile that tugs at his lips half-hearted, nearly wry. " i bet she'll love it. i spoil her as much as i can, but ... you know how it is. gets a little ... complicated. maybe if she hears it's from you, she won't throw it back in my face this time around. " he swallows, hard, holding back a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and pained laughter by the time he pushes himself up to walk closer. he lets his arms slip enough to tuck his thumbs into his pockets, but it's clear it's an effort to fight against the tension that pulls his shoulders taut—he looks stiff, and kind of awkward in a strange way, despite the fleeting, stubborn glimpses of warmth that persist only when he looks at him. touchy subject : but there hasn't been a time yet that he's meant anything unwell. he has his full attention, for better or worse. " yeah, yeah, it's alright, tim. whatcha got for us? "
