#redvisioned

[grimself]

           he’s resting leisurely against his living room walls, taking in the sight of their grand first-in-command tigering from one end to the other; all while feeling decidedly undecided as to whether he should savor this moment or dread the lecture that was bound to still follow. “gee. would’ya look at that frown on your face.” he’d done a great job at avoiding the man up till now—let jack stew until he’s cooled off, had been the plan ( or at the very least until he’d come up with a wide enough array of excuses that would sooner than later lead to their dropping this conversation altogether ). now, though ... why. now, the cat was quite literally out of the bag and taking a stroll through his flat; evidently not in a mood for any more of such games. a blend of feigned bemusement and suave sarcasm drips off his lips as he does anything but damage control: “you couldn’t be ... mad at me, could you?” / @redvisioned​

[grimself]

@redvisioned.

     “ i thought i told you to go and finally rest, gabe.          better have a good reason as to why you’re up again. ”

          “what can i say? all your worrying’s been making            my bedroom walls shake. it’s impossible to catch any            sleep under these circumstances.”

[grimself]

"i thought they’d never leave."

his eyes roll to match the echo of exasperation in his features—a modest attempt to cover up the unlikely ... nervosity that's still haunting him; even after the office door had fallen back shut and the lively chatter of their visitors had begun to dissipate in the hallways. "... ... you don't say." deadpan incarnate. from the start, he'd known this was a terrible idea. he's not shy of pointing out as much either after a singular heavy sigh heaved; tongue laced by a poor imitation of the blond's earlier reassurements: "'oh, stop worrying gabe. no one will come bother a commander this late in the evening, gabe.'"

[grimself]

"you know. i heard something strange last night."

"'something'?" already does he make a mental note to proceed with caution. he's been hearing something, too. the difference being that he knew exactly what'd been stuck in the vents for the past three days or so and at this point likely desperate to find a way back out—and jack didn't. he'd prefer to keep it that way. "it's odd you'd hear anything over your own sound snoring. ... rough day at work? i'm sure dr. ziegler can prescribe you some of those good nighty-night pills."

[grimself]

"hold still please."

unnerving coarseness rumbles up his throat. "YOU hold still." the hand that is fumbling about the debris stuck in his torso is shoved away curtly. he'd only just managed to barely prop himself back up in spite of the pain—in comes the blond to stir the raw edges of his cut flesh. it's unsurprising that his patience wavers. even less surprising that his strength leaves him for a moment, causing him to topple back against the other. from the corner of his eye he sees a puddle of blood and is surprised that it does still flow through him; red and all.

( oh, for fuck's sake ). truth be told he'd expected his blackwatch gear to block a little more than that when he'd jumped in to shield the strike commander from the explosion. it's up to his imagination only what the flying scraps would've done to someone less armor-clad. "... just give me a MOMENT, jack." ... ... he finds out that he has a very vivid imagination.

emitting nothing short of a groan, he attempts to rise once more. "... fuck that. we need to secure the area."

[grimself]

clears his throat and sits some chocolates down on his desk.

his attention shifts almost instantly. "—bribery? oh, you little devil." various paperwork is casually shoved aside to give the confectionery the space it deserves; his sweet tooth is no common knowledge—but certainly no secret among the people who at any point in time have had to suffer his late-night snack habits either.

"maybe there's some hope left for you. quit the boy scouts. join the resistance."

[grimself]

“ looks like it's gonna be a late night again, huh ? ”

          “it can’t be helped, jack. that’s how nights WORK——late hours and all that jazz. ” if you’re here to relieve him: don’t bother. he’s too comfortable to be getting OUT of the command chair at this point.

[grimself]

gives him a coffee uwu