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@sebastien.booker | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼
( it's early when she gets him up. she knows he'd gone to bed late last night and he was probably going to be nursing a hangover but she she'd grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him out of the rundown, battered place they'd managed to find to stay for the time being.
she doesn't have a plan in mind or a destination that she intends to take them both to but she wants him up and she wants him to come with her. she hasn't been sleeping much, spending most of her nights staring up at the ceiling or out a window or walking the streets, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
but the answer continues to elude her and it makes her angry. it's a low, simmering kind of anger but it's there, easily hidden.
she doesn't say much to booker once they're out in the heat but she does take pity on him and takes him to a coffee shop, even paying for his very black, very strong coffee before finding a table and sitting down. )
So.
( she takes a slow sip of the coffee and wincing at just show strong she ordered it. )
Been a good vacation for you so far? ( she smirks at him. ) I was thinking of getting something else implanted in my ass.
she doesn't have a plan in mind or a destination that she intends to take them both to but she wants him up and she wants him to come with her. she hasn't been sleeping much, spending most of her nights staring up at the ceiling or out a window or walking the streets, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
but the answer continues to elude her and it makes her angry. it's a low, simmering kind of anger but it's there, easily hidden.
she doesn't say much to booker once they're out in the heat but she does take pity on him and takes him to a coffee shop, even paying for his very black, very strong coffee before finding a table and sitting down. )
So.
( she takes a slow sip of the coffee and wincing at just show strong she ordered it. )
Been a good vacation for you so far? ( she smirks at him. ) I was thinking of getting something else implanted in my ass.
[ Booker grunts into his coffee, feeling the after-effects of a night of ... not-so-light drinking hitting him much harder than it ever used to. This is what he wanted, isn't it? To no longer be immortal? To feel what everyone else feels, to have some end in all of this suffering? (Well, he's not sure he believes in the latter anymore, not when their circumstances have drastically changed, but it's too late for that now.) He'd forgotten all of the other little things that came with it, the physical aches and pains, the consequence of a lack sleep without the handy 'reset' button, the lasting effects of a hangover ... oof.
He takes a sip of his coffee now, languishing in its bitterness and praying that it works to perk him up a little bit. Mon dieu, this is good shit. ]
This is hardly a vacation, the way we've been living here.
[ At least the whole family is present, though. He's trying his best not to take that for granted anymore. He'd spent only a few months, give or take, in exile on his own, and knowing he wouldn't see any of them for another 99 years — it was a truly lonely existence.
In addition, no one's made any further moves to break his nose, so that's always a fun bonus.
When he meets Andy's eyes over the rim of his cup, he raises an eyebrow, amusement settling into the rest of his features. ] Ah, were you? I know the mod market is always willing to sell something new. Ass implants though — that's an interesting choice.
He takes a sip of his coffee now, languishing in its bitterness and praying that it works to perk him up a little bit. Mon dieu, this is good shit. ]
This is hardly a vacation, the way we've been living here.
[ At least the whole family is present, though. He's trying his best not to take that for granted anymore. He'd spent only a few months, give or take, in exile on his own, and knowing he wouldn't see any of them for another 99 years — it was a truly lonely existence.
In addition, no one's made any further moves to break his nose, so that's always a fun bonus.
When he meets Andy's eyes over the rim of his cup, he raises an eyebrow, amusement settling into the rest of his features. ] Ah, were you? I know the mod market is always willing to sell something new. Ass implants though — that's an interesting choice.
Well, I've already got something in my head so why not go for the top and the bottom.
( she holds his gaze for a few seconds before she rolls her eyes and reaches for her mug, keeping her eyes on booker as she drinks.
truth be told, she's still pretty pissed about the thing in her head and what sort of things it might lead to. she can't feel it and if she didn't know any better, she wouldn't even think it was there.
but still. )
Think I have the ass for it?
( there's only one right answer here, booker. )
( she holds his gaze for a few seconds before she rolls her eyes and reaches for her mug, keeping her eyes on booker as she drinks.
truth be told, she's still pretty pissed about the thing in her head and what sort of things it might lead to. she can't feel it and if she didn't know any better, she wouldn't even think it was there.
but still. )
Think I have the ass for it?
( there's only one right answer here, booker. )
Mmhm. Balance.
[ Booker speaks like he knows a thing or two about it; he doesn't. He's never been very good at it, usually throwing in his chips to one side or the other.
All in.
He puts his coffee down, looking thoughtful (and, okay, still tired), almost too serious for what he says next. ]
But of course. You always did have a joli derrière. [ A beat, his mouth quirking. ] Very respectfully speaking.
[ He's 100% ready for his own ass to be kicked now. ]
[ Booker speaks like he knows a thing or two about it; he doesn't. He's never been very good at it, usually throwing in his chips to one side or the other.
All in.
He puts his coffee down, looking thoughtful (and, okay, still tired), almost too serious for what he says next. ]
But of course. You always did have a joli derrière. [ A beat, his mouth quirking. ] Very respectfully speaking.
[ He's 100% ready for his own ass to be kicked now. ]
Edited 2020-10-28 01:58 (UTC)
Very respectfully speaking?
( andy can't not laugh at that because it's exactly something that booker would say. he's polite even while admitting that he's looked at her ass.
how cute. )
Yours isn't so bad either. ( of course she's looked. ) Little flat, though.
( andy can't not laugh at that because it's exactly something that booker would say. he's polite even while admitting that he's looked at her ass.
how cute. )
Yours isn't so bad either. ( of course she's looked. ) Little flat, though.
[ That gets a good laugh out of Booker, too. ]
I haven't exactly had time to work on it.
[ And look, admitting that you've maybe looked at your boss-and-friend's ass must come with politeness. Especially when said boss-and-friend knows thousands of years' worth of ways to kill a man. ]
Perhaps it won't matter with all the implant choices.
I haven't exactly had time to work on it.
[ And look, admitting that you've maybe looked at your boss-and-friend's ass must come with politeness. Especially when said boss-and-friend knows thousands of years' worth of ways to kill a man. ]
Perhaps it won't matter with all the implant choices.
You should work on that. It's not like either of us have a job.
( she hasn't even thought about getting one despite the need for money. she's never really had to have an actual normal job before and she doesn't think 'formerly immortal warrior' is going to qualify her for much. )
You thinking of getting one?
( she'll leave talk of their asses for another time. he can just content himself with knowing she's looked at his a time or two. )
( she hasn't even thought about getting one despite the need for money. she's never really had to have an actual normal job before and she doesn't think 'formerly immortal warrior' is going to qualify her for much. )
You thinking of getting one?
( she'll leave talk of their asses for another time. he can just content himself with knowing she's looked at his a time or two. )
[ the nieuwe teylers museum is, in joe's opinion, something of a monstrosity, but that is also why he set foot in it the first time so it does a good job of capturing attention amongst the towering skyscrapers of the city and the other galleries within the arts district. while the second floor is dedicated to physical copies of art that has survived the hedge fund buyouts that found most museum quality masterpieces in private hands, the first floor is filled entirely with vr renditions of those same squirreled away pieces.
and also filled with the sound of joe's voice. ] — historical context is essential to understanding how these pieces came to life on the canvas and in turn how art can alter history.
[ he's gesticulating, arms spreading wide as if to encompass all of art and all of history at once, and his audience is rapt. maybe they hadn't expected a history lesson while perusing vr replicas of lost art or maybe they weren't expecting a man who talks about the masters like he was there, like they were friends, like he personally knew la scapigliata. ]
Art is not good because someone says it is, art is good because it touches you, it is subjective. Some fine art is revered as a masterpiece but really it is shrouded in mystery which makes it famous and the fame makes it a masterpiece, not the art itself.
[ the mona lisa is shit and more hot takes with joe jones. ]
and also filled with the sound of joe's voice. ] — historical context is essential to understanding how these pieces came to life on the canvas and in turn how art can alter history.
[ he's gesticulating, arms spreading wide as if to encompass all of art and all of history at once, and his audience is rapt. maybe they hadn't expected a history lesson while perusing vr replicas of lost art or maybe they weren't expecting a man who talks about the masters like he was there, like they were friends, like he personally knew la scapigliata. ]
Art is not good because someone says it is, art is good because it touches you, it is subjective. Some fine art is revered as a masterpiece but really it is shrouded in mystery which makes it famous and the fame makes it a masterpiece, not the art itself.
[ the mona lisa is shit and more hot takes with joe jones. ]
Edited (REPETITION ) 2020-10-29 01:48 (UTC)
[ When Booker wanders into the museum that afternoon, he forgets, for a moment, that Joe works here now. He'd done his best to keep to himself or keep out of the way, but it's not always an easy thing to do when you live in the same space and you're making efforts to be a better ... everything, which includes not shutting yourself out.
Between spending his time exploring the city — sometimes on his own, sometimes with Andy or Nile — or otherwise exploring the bottom of a glass at Red Wings, it's been a long few weeks. And he still doesn't have a job, so he has truly been encompassing the life of a flâneur.
He can hear Joe's voice in the next room, the expressive, passionate way he describes the art; and Booker tries to imagine it for himself, missing the way he'd used that voice with him the few times he tried (and failed) to teach Booker a little something about painting. He had a natural affinity for colour and style, could duplicate anything down to its finest line and its deepest shade to produce the perfect counterfeit — but whatever Joe is describing in art, the soul of it, Booker could never quite grasp.
He keeps his distance, trailing the periphery of Joe's group and taking in the paintings in all their virtual glory as he wanders. Only when Joe pauses, letting the others look off on their own does Booker approach slowly, like one might approach a sleeping lion. ]
I have a question.
Between spending his time exploring the city — sometimes on his own, sometimes with Andy or Nile — or otherwise exploring the bottom of a glass at Red Wings, it's been a long few weeks. And he still doesn't have a job, so he has truly been encompassing the life of a flâneur.
He can hear Joe's voice in the next room, the expressive, passionate way he describes the art; and Booker tries to imagine it for himself, missing the way he'd used that voice with him the few times he tried (and failed) to teach Booker a little something about painting. He had a natural affinity for colour and style, could duplicate anything down to its finest line and its deepest shade to produce the perfect counterfeit — but whatever Joe is describing in art, the soul of it, Booker could never quite grasp.
He keeps his distance, trailing the periphery of Joe's group and taking in the paintings in all their virtual glory as he wanders. Only when Joe pauses, letting the others look off on their own does Booker approach slowly, like one might approach a sleeping lion. ]
I have a question.
I'm afraid they don't suit me.
[ Ass implants or any other kind. His hand goes up automatically to the back of his scalp where he can still feel the raised skin from being cut into. It hasn't healed the way it should, and whatever is stuck inside his head, is still — well — in there.
He will not be getting any further implants, now or any other time. ]
But I am in full support if whatever you decide to do. I will even hold your hand if you need it.
[ Ass implants or any other kind. His hand goes up automatically to the back of his scalp where he can still feel the raised skin from being cut into. It hasn't healed the way it should, and whatever is stuck inside his head, is still — well — in there.
He will not be getting any further implants, now or any other time. ]
But I am in full support if whatever you decide to do. I will even hold your hand if you need it.
Oh, will you?
( she doesn't mention how the empathy bond could make that difficult because she doesn't want to think about that whole thing right now. )
I might take you up on that. ( since she thinks she's going to want to do something to fill her time. ) If you're not going to work, you have any idea of what you will do?
( she doesn't mention how the empathy bond could make that difficult because she doesn't want to think about that whole thing right now. )
I might take you up on that. ( since she thinks she's going to want to do something to fill her time. ) If you're not going to work, you have any idea of what you will do?
[ joe likes this job. he would be doing this every time he visited a gallery anyway so he might as well get paid for it, keep his family fed while doing something he enjoys.
and now no one can question his solo budgeting.
his eyes move to booker immediately, easily recognizing the familiar voice after so long. it is seared into him, familiar in a way few are – sometimes he would think about how booker's voice was primed to become more familiar than quỳnh's as more time slipped away with her lost to them. had they lived out these last few hundred years instead of skipping them, it may well have turned out that way. ]
What is your question, Sébastien?
[ ah.
the first name. the way a teacher would address an exasperating child. better than anger perhaps. ]
and now no one can question his solo budgeting.
his eyes move to booker immediately, easily recognizing the familiar voice after so long. it is seared into him, familiar in a way few are – sometimes he would think about how booker's voice was primed to become more familiar than quỳnh's as more time slipped away with her lost to them. had they lived out these last few hundred years instead of skipping them, it may well have turned out that way. ]
What is your question, Sébastien?
[ ah.
the first name. the way a teacher would address an exasperating child. better than anger perhaps. ]
Edited 2020-10-29 14:03 (UTC)
Mmhm. If you're serious.
[ In the event of an unwarranted emotional overshare, Booker is well prepared for that. Or — well, he will be, once he can get his hands on a pair of gloves. It's not going to be ideal in these hot and sweltering months, but there is a lot he's willing to do for Andy. Maybe now more than ever.
But also, maybe don't get implants in your butt, Andy. ]
I don't know yet. [ Comes his reply to her second question. He looks thoughtful over his coffee and shrugs lightly. ] Working could provide us with an opportunity to learn more about the way this world works, but we have very ... specific skills. Then again, perhaps it won't be so hard to bag groceries for a few months.
[ In the event of an unwarranted emotional overshare, Booker is well prepared for that. Or — well, he will be, once he can get his hands on a pair of gloves. It's not going to be ideal in these hot and sweltering months, but there is a lot he's willing to do for Andy. Maybe now more than ever.
But also, maybe don't get implants in your butt, Andy. ]
I don't know yet. [ Comes his reply to her second question. He looks thoughtful over his coffee and shrugs lightly. ] Working could provide us with an opportunity to learn more about the way this world works, but we have very ... specific skills. Then again, perhaps it won't be so hard to bag groceries for a few months.
( she'd do what she wanted with her ass, booker. )
I guess putting 'immortal warrior' on a resume is eye catching but won't open up any real leads for work.
( she sighs and crosses her arms, fingers tapping lightly against the cup. he's right in that finding employment would possibly give them an inside look at how certain companies worked but she also thinks he's right in that it could just lead to bagging groceries.
and she's not sure how helpful that would be. )
Come on, let's go for a walk. Let's see what we can find in this city that's not off limits or something.
I guess putting 'immortal warrior' on a resume is eye catching but won't open up any real leads for work.
( she sighs and crosses her arms, fingers tapping lightly against the cup. he's right in that finding employment would possibly give them an inside look at how certain companies worked but she also thinks he's right in that it could just lead to bagging groceries.
and she's not sure how helpful that would be. )
Come on, let's go for a walk. Let's see what we can find in this city that's not off limits or something.
[ Booker could excuse himself, turn back, turn away, head out, leave Joe to his work. But he stays because he has to stay, at least for now, even if Joe uses his name like a needle — not meant to cut, exactly ... just prick.
He gestures to an astonishingly accurate virtual depiction of Veronese's Wedding Feast at Cana. ]
What of someone who struggles to see art in the way you describe it? What advice would you give to find something that touches them?
He gestures to an astonishingly accurate virtual depiction of Veronese's Wedding Feast at Cana. ]
What of someone who struggles to see art in the way you describe it? What advice would you give to find something that touches them?
Mm — you're probably right. Especially when the 'immortal' part might not apply to us anymore.
[ The thought still smarts, sinking somewhere low in his gut with the guilt of getting exactly what he'd wanted in the end, but at the cost of — what? Everything?
In any case, he won't be putting down 'immortal' anything for the next little while.
Booker is quick to finish the rest of his coffee before Andy suggests they head out. He sets his cup down, pushes his seat back, and gets to his feet without protest, ready to follow. ]
Who knows, we might even find some jobs.
[ The thought still smarts, sinking somewhere low in his gut with the guilt of getting exactly what he'd wanted in the end, but at the cost of — what? Everything?
In any case, he won't be putting down 'immortal' anything for the next little while.
Booker is quick to finish the rest of his coffee before Andy suggests they head out. He sets his cup down, pushes his seat back, and gets to his feet without protest, ready to follow. ]
Who knows, we might even find some jobs.
[ how is anyone not touched by a pretentious venetian man painting not just himself into a biblical scene – in front of jesus, no less, the utter audacity of this man – but puppies.
joe waffles on how to answer, biting his tongue against words that will cause a scene in his place of work. a muscle jumps in his jaw as he briefly grinds his teeth. he can be professional in a place of business and he told andy he wouldn't hit booker again, as least so long as booker didn't hit first. ]
This painting is about the transitory pleasure of mortality. Not all art needs to speak to everyone. [ maybe this painting does little for booker because it is a study of something he can no longer touch. joe could talk about the symbolism and composition of the wedding feast for ages, and he has on more than one occasion at the louvre, loudly explaining to nicky (and eavesdropping patrons) how the painting was looted by napoleon and brought to paris and then blocked from its return to venice because it was "too fragile" and the louvre was too greedy, but they'll have to come back to it. ] This way.
[ he moves through the digital displays, eyes catching a seascape that makes him long for the mediterranean air, a postmodernism piece full of block letters and anti-capitalist sentiment, a series of lithographs between surrealist paintings that make time feel liquid. joe feels everything, but he is not looking to find something to move him, but something to move booker. he turns a corner, decisive, and stops.
nestled under a staircase is a mixed media piece — a statue replica of klimt's lady in gold, mosaic tile and gold leaf and skeins of golden thread imitating the blocks and swirls of the iconic painting, seemingly lit from within with a soft golden glow. joe was taken by the piece immediately. ]
Art is about sharing. In order to feel anything, you have to be open to it. [ he gestures at the golden statue, somehow glittering and austere at once, bright and shiny and deeply sad. ]
What do you feel?
joe waffles on how to answer, biting his tongue against words that will cause a scene in his place of work. a muscle jumps in his jaw as he briefly grinds his teeth. he can be professional in a place of business and he told andy he wouldn't hit booker again, as least so long as booker didn't hit first. ]
This painting is about the transitory pleasure of mortality. Not all art needs to speak to everyone. [ maybe this painting does little for booker because it is a study of something he can no longer touch. joe could talk about the symbolism and composition of the wedding feast for ages, and he has on more than one occasion at the louvre, loudly explaining to nicky (and eavesdropping patrons) how the painting was looted by napoleon and brought to paris and then blocked from its return to venice because it was "too fragile" and the louvre was too greedy, but they'll have to come back to it. ] This way.
[ he moves through the digital displays, eyes catching a seascape that makes him long for the mediterranean air, a postmodernism piece full of block letters and anti-capitalist sentiment, a series of lithographs between surrealist paintings that make time feel liquid. joe feels everything, but he is not looking to find something to move him, but something to move booker. he turns a corner, decisive, and stops.
nestled under a staircase is a mixed media piece — a statue replica of klimt's lady in gold, mosaic tile and gold leaf and skeins of golden thread imitating the blocks and swirls of the iconic painting, seemingly lit from within with a soft golden glow. joe was taken by the piece immediately. ]
Art is about sharing. In order to feel anything, you have to be open to it. [ he gestures at the golden statue, somehow glittering and austere at once, bright and shiny and deeply sad. ]
What do you feel?
We might.
( don't give ideas here, booker, or she'd try and talk you into something ridiculous just for fun and to see if you'd follow through.
you were making your own bed.
with a sigh, she gets up and starts out, knowing he's going to follow. she doesn't say anything for a few moments while they're walking. )
How are things going with the others?
( time for a quick check in. )
( don't give ideas here, booker, or she'd try and talk you into something ridiculous just for fun and to see if you'd follow through.
you were making your own bed.
with a sigh, she gets up and starts out, knowing he's going to follow. she doesn't say anything for a few moments while they're walking. )
How are things going with the others?
( time for a quick check in. )
[ You have to be open to it. Yes, of course.
Booker follows Joe around the space, keeping a polite distance but maintaining his pace, taking in the pieces around them as they pass by. Nearly all of the artworks have been painstakingly replicated into a consumable digital form, but there's still a strange emptiness to it all. Maybe it's because of his own love of tactile objects, and his limited ability to understand 'art' through physical repilcation, but the real lack of an artist's handiwork renders these pieces ... without soul. They're like prints one buys at the gift shop. Things he can copy for a price.
And maybe that's the thing; he isn't sure. For years he'd worked as a forger, had a real knack for it; many things had been copied by his hand and he would argue that he hadn't exactly put any kind of artistry into it even though there had been plenty of effort and sweat.
So when they come to a statue and Joe pauses before it, asks him a question — how do you feel? — Booker doesn't really know how to respond other than: 'well, it's covered in gold', which makes him hopeless at this. But he wants to try. He wants to see the way Joe sees, to understand. He tries to look past the object itself, tries to find meaning in the image. Context, Joe had said. ]
It's — suffocating. Covered in all that opulence. [ The mosaic tile, the patterning of the woman's dress, most of her body obscured by gold leaf. ] But freeing somehow, too. Like one could disappear into it.
[ Is there a right or wrong answer? He isn't sure. ]
Booker follows Joe around the space, keeping a polite distance but maintaining his pace, taking in the pieces around them as they pass by. Nearly all of the artworks have been painstakingly replicated into a consumable digital form, but there's still a strange emptiness to it all. Maybe it's because of his own love of tactile objects, and his limited ability to understand 'art' through physical repilcation, but the real lack of an artist's handiwork renders these pieces ... without soul. They're like prints one buys at the gift shop. Things he can copy for a price.
And maybe that's the thing; he isn't sure. For years he'd worked as a forger, had a real knack for it; many things had been copied by his hand and he would argue that he hadn't exactly put any kind of artistry into it even though there had been plenty of effort and sweat.
So when they come to a statue and Joe pauses before it, asks him a question — how do you feel? — Booker doesn't really know how to respond other than: 'well, it's covered in gold', which makes him hopeless at this. But he wants to try. He wants to see the way Joe sees, to understand. He tries to look past the object itself, tries to find meaning in the image. Context, Joe had said. ]
It's — suffocating. Covered in all that opulence. [ The mosaic tile, the patterning of the woman's dress, most of her body obscured by gold leaf. ] But freeing somehow, too. Like one could disappear into it.
[ Is there a right or wrong answer? He isn't sure. ]
[ Thing is, he would do it too.
As predicted Booker does follow, keeping his pace alongside her while simultaneously trying to will the dull ache at the base of his skull away. Being mortal and hungover is truly a reason to loathe the day, but coffee helps. Water would probably help too, but what are insignificant things like healthy habits to someone who has never cared for them to begin with? ]
It's going. [ Which is maybe being generous. ] Joe hasn't punched me since the day at the market, so that is something. Nicky — is Nicky. [ The disappointment and devastation in his reunion with Nicky felt like its own kind of punch, so all in all, it mostly helps to stay out of their way. ] And Nile — [ is perfect??? No, having Nile (and Andy) around keeps him from wanting to isolate himself from everyone, fall back into horrible habits. ] — perhaps I am unworthy of her kindness, but I will not turn it down.
I know none of this is easy — for anyone.
As predicted Booker does follow, keeping his pace alongside her while simultaneously trying to will the dull ache at the base of his skull away. Being mortal and hungover is truly a reason to loathe the day, but coffee helps. Water would probably help too, but what are insignificant things like healthy habits to someone who has never cared for them to begin with? ]
It's going. [ Which is maybe being generous. ] Joe hasn't punched me since the day at the market, so that is something. Nicky — is Nicky. [ The disappointment and devastation in his reunion with Nicky felt like its own kind of punch, so all in all, it mostly helps to stay out of their way. ] And Nile — [ is perfect??? No, having Nile (and Andy) around keeps him from wanting to isolate himself from everyone, fall back into horrible habits. ] — perhaps I am unworthy of her kindness, but I will not turn it down.
I know none of this is easy — for anyone.
Suffocating, hm.
[ the original painting had been called that before and joe thinks there is some merit to it, adele was more gold leaf than woman if you weren't looking at her. the statue has the same overwhelming splendor.
he waffles on continuing, jaw working for a moment. it is instinct to share, but the instinct stalls out with booker and especially when it comes to sharing anything that might involve nicky. it feels too dangerous now and that hurts.
eventually, a sigh. he is so tired. ]
It's not a test, Book.
[ the original painting had been called that before and joe thinks there is some merit to it, adele was more gold leaf than woman if you weren't looking at her. the statue has the same overwhelming splendor.
he waffles on continuing, jaw working for a moment. it is instinct to share, but the instinct stalls out with booker and especially when it comes to sharing anything that might involve nicky. it feels too dangerous now and that hurts.
eventually, a sigh. he is so tired. ]
It's not a test, Book.
( that's pretty much as she expected. joe and nicky have history to deal with, a betrayal that they thought would never happen because of how long they'd been together. and then it happened, leaving them both gutted and scarred and wondering if something like that might happen again.
they trust each other, they trust her but with booker's actions, it made each of them a little more wary, a little more cautious of who they trusted.
she sighs. )
Just don't piss Nile off. She's liable to stab you in the shoulder.
( just for the hell of it, just for fun. )
I don't know if Joe and Nicky will ever come around but...it means a lot that you're trying. To me, it does. Because not a lot of people would. They'd give up and just leave the connection severed.
they trust each other, they trust her but with booker's actions, it made each of them a little more wary, a little more cautious of who they trusted.
she sighs. )
Just don't piss Nile off. She's liable to stab you in the shoulder.
( just for the hell of it, just for fun. )
I don't know if Joe and Nicky will ever come around but...it means a lot that you're trying. To me, it does. Because not a lot of people would. They'd give up and just leave the connection severed.
[ And yet it almost feels like one.
Answering in a way that Joe might approve feels like a small, stupid way of proving that maybe there's some hope for him still. Some worth. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, it feels childish even, but he still has to try, doesn't he?
Not that Booker will say as much aloud, but between the choice of avoiding Joe completely and making an effort to prove himself in the smallest, most seemingly insignificant ways, it was always going to be easier, of course, not to engage at all. Remain separate, serve out the rest of his exile somewhere in the city. Joe would not have to see the face of the brother who betrayed them and Booker could continue to punish himself on his own time. Not that the end of his exile was ever a guarantee that he would be accepted into the family again. He knows that, too.
But in this new world, without their immortality and no one else but each other, it feels too much like giving up and Booker knows that lesson too well now.
He gives the statue another look, but he still doesn't know how to feel about it. ]
It might just be that understanding fine art is above me.
Answering in a way that Joe might approve feels like a small, stupid way of proving that maybe there's some hope for him still. Some worth. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, it feels childish even, but he still has to try, doesn't he?
Not that Booker will say as much aloud, but between the choice of avoiding Joe completely and making an effort to prove himself in the smallest, most seemingly insignificant ways, it was always going to be easier, of course, not to engage at all. Remain separate, serve out the rest of his exile somewhere in the city. Joe would not have to see the face of the brother who betrayed them and Booker could continue to punish himself on his own time. Not that the end of his exile was ever a guarantee that he would be accepted into the family again. He knows that, too.
But in this new world, without their immortality and no one else but each other, it feels too much like giving up and Booker knows that lesson too well now.
He gives the statue another look, but he still doesn't know how to feel about it. ]
It might just be that understanding fine art is above me.
[ A quick huff of laughter. Ah, yes. He remembers that phone call, feeling like it had happened another lifetime ago. ]
I will keep that in mind, especially as we're not healing the same way we used to.
[ Good ol' Nile.
Hearing the truth about Joe and Nicky stings, but Andy isn't wrong about that either. He had really hurt them all, took their unconditional love for him for granted, and threw it back in their faces. It was a miracle at all that Andy was so forthcoming to give him this chance. ]
It would be easier. [ Booker agrees. He could find a space in this strange city and hole up for however long it took before he died. But he finds he doesn't want that life anymore, no matter how much he knows he deserves it. ] But since when did we do anything easy, huh?
[ His smile is without much humour; almost sad. ]
All this — [ He tries again. ] — I'm being given a chance to do something differently.
[ And back home, with Andy's newfound mortality and a hundred years of exile, how could he ever prove himself to her before she died? That had hit him the worst, sent him spiraling into his deepest, reckless drinking.
He clears his throat. It's too early for this kind of emotional confrontation, perhaps. ]
I don't plan to waste it on bagging groceries.
I will keep that in mind, especially as we're not healing the same way we used to.
[ Good ol' Nile.
Hearing the truth about Joe and Nicky stings, but Andy isn't wrong about that either. He had really hurt them all, took their unconditional love for him for granted, and threw it back in their faces. It was a miracle at all that Andy was so forthcoming to give him this chance. ]
It would be easier. [ Booker agrees. He could find a space in this strange city and hole up for however long it took before he died. But he finds he doesn't want that life anymore, no matter how much he knows he deserves it. ] But since when did we do anything easy, huh?
[ His smile is without much humour; almost sad. ]
All this — [ He tries again. ] — I'm being given a chance to do something differently.
[ And back home, with Andy's newfound mortality and a hundred years of exile, how could he ever prove himself to her before she died? That had hit him the worst, sent him spiraling into his deepest, reckless drinking.
He clears his throat. It's too early for this kind of emotional confrontation, perhaps. ]
I don't plan to waste it on bagging groceries.
( andy decides to chance the empathy bond when she reaches over and curves a hand around the back of his neck. she doesn't touch long, not wanting to be intrusive to whatever booker's feeling but she gives him a squeeze and then let's go. )
You're not the only one getting a chance to do something differently.
( she hasn't really done a lot of talking about herself and she doesn't know what she's going to say here but she continues to not want him to feel like he's alone in this. )
My immortality's gone. And not because of this place. Whenever we go back, it's going to be gone again. I'd planned on...just letting my life run out. I'm tired, Book.
You're not the only one getting a chance to do something differently.
( she hasn't really done a lot of talking about herself and she doesn't know what she's going to say here but she continues to not want him to feel like he's alone in this. )
My immortality's gone. And not because of this place. Whenever we go back, it's going to be gone again. I'd planned on...just letting my life run out. I'm tired, Book.
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