9466/A (nearly) Midwinter's Night Dram

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A (nearly) Midwinter's Night Dram
Date of Scene: 05 January 2022
Location: Martin and Jon's Quarters: Triskelion
Synopsis: Cael visits Jon with a bottle of expensive whiskey on the Eve of the Apocalypse. Things go sideways from there.
Cast of Characters: Cael Becker, Jonathan Sims
Tinyplot: Path of Glory


Cael Becker has posed:
    It's possible this is a bad idea. Jon's probably still neck deep in psychoanalyzing Michael through Biblical quotes and what reports other members of the Justice League Dark have made on their conversations with the... being.
    Then again - Jon's probably wound himself up in his mind so much, on the Eve of the world coming to the end, that he'll never get to sleep, and he won't achieve any meaningful work anyways.
    ...yeah. It's probably not a bad idea. That's what she tells herself, anyways, as she raps on the door to Jon's quarters - a bottle of expensive whiskey in her hand. A Midwinter's Night Dram, by High West - she's never tried it before, and she's definitely looking forward to trying it. At her side stands Bear - no vest on, not even a leash. He wags his tail in a slow, cheerful manner as he waits beside Cael to be let into the apartment.
    Of course it's only //after// she knocks that Cael suddenly wonders - shit. What if Jon and Martin are trying to have a night to themselves? Shit, shit, shit. She should have checked about this first...

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    It certainly /sounds/ like Jon's... talking? To... someone? Not Martin, though, and there's music behind the words, jangly banjo and simple bass line. They're talking about prisons and Bifrosts, and a train, then a violin and singing starts up. It sounds like Jon's yelling--'No singing, I am /sick/ of your singing--'

    And then whatever it is shuts off and Jon pulls the door open, blinking at Cael. He's wearing a very faded Oxford t-shirt and jeans and socks. "Oh!" he says. "Here I thought someone was coming to tell me to keep it down." He glances to the whiskey and his smile widens. "Ah... come in? Martin's working, he'll be away another couple of hours at least."

    He doesn't /look/ like a man who's wound up and unable to sleep. Quite the contrary, really.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Oh, uhh... yeah," Cael agrees, padding into the apartment. Since she's only come a bit down the hall - she's barefoot. Why put on shoes to head down the corridor. "What the hell were you listening to?" she asks uncertainly as she stands there with her unopened bottle. She seems more off-put than Bear, at the moment - because the pup heads right over to the couch and jumps up onto it, flumping down in such a way so that he takes up most of the available space.
    "Bear..." Cael mutters under her breath, a complaint that only earns her a few thumps of the dog's tail. Great.
    "You want to grab some glasses? This stuff's supposed to be good. I mean - if it isn't someone owes me a serious explination."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Oh. Right. That." Jon rubs at the back of his neck, looking... embarassed. "That's, uhh... my old college band. Remember I told you Chas was pretty much our biggest fan? I've been... I don't know. Seemed like a bad idea to try to focus too much on what's coming tomorrow. I can't really finish my psych profile of Michael until I interact with him more, and I won't be able to do much magic if I'm not rested. So... I was... listening. Remembering..." He frowns. "Remembering who I am, I suppose."

    He shakes his head and then goes to grab some glasses. "I'm certain you were expecting I'd be neck-deep in paperwork, hmm? Cramming just before the big test?" He smirks. "Take it from one who's taken a /lot/ of tests--it's best to study well ahead of time and then /sleep/ the night before. Cramming does nobody any good."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I, uh... Yeah. That's kinda what I expected," Cael admits, flashing the man a brief smile. "I guess that's part of why I," she hefts the bottle of whiskey. "Hell - don't even know if you like the stuff. This is not put-it-in-your-tea-or-coffee stuff. In fact, if you do anything other than sip it straight - well. It ought to be a crime. Seemed like... if I was ever going to open the thing up, might as well be tonight.
    "So I guess the only real question is if we do it while listening to your terrible music - or if we wait to torture me with the stuff when you've rescued your friend."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon glowers at Cael and reaches out to grab the bottle from her. "I went to school at /Oxford/. I spent my summers in /Edinburgh/ playing concerts with my ridiculous band and getting roaring drunk after. I have, somewhere up in here, a recipe for the /perfect/ spice blend for tikka masala to cure a hangover. Yes, I bloody well like whiskey. And a lot of other alcohol besides. And no, we don't have to listen to my /terrible/ music. The next bit's about the world ending anyway."

    There's a smile playing around the glower, though. He pulls two glasses out of the cupboard, then carefully opens the bottle. Pours a measure into each glass, and then hands one over to Cael.

    "To the world /not/ ending?" he says with a grin.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Oh my God, I've released your inner, self-righteous Brit. Now I'm fuckin' //doomed,//" Cael counters - amusement playing on the corners of her own lips, in return. Whatever tension she'd been carrying with her when she entered the flat - it's melted away now, as she watches Jon with a crooked smile - and accepts the offered glass.
    "To the world not ending," she confirms, clinking her glass against his.
    She lefts her glass to her lips first, carefully breathing in the smell without burning her nose from the strength of the liquor - before taking a small sip, letting it linger on her tongue before she swallows. It's dark, and complex, hinting at fruits and mulling spices, with just a hint of smoke from having been aged in a cask. "...damnit. I'm not sure I wanted to like it //quite// this much."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon takes a long, long moment to inhale the scent and then take a sip, closing his eyes. "Mmm," he says. "It's been... a long time since I had anything this good." He opens his eyes and smiles at Cael. "Certainly worthy of drinking before the world doesn't end."

    He grabs the bottle and starts for the living room. "Anyway, since when is my self-righteous Brit /inner/? I thought I wore that right on my sleeve." He tries to sit down, but there's this lump on his couch in the shape of a Bear. "Oh, budge up," he grumbles at the animal.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Bear thumps his tail excitedly - lifting his head to look at Jon - and only after a solid shove does he start to scoot over - leaving barely enough space for Cael and Jon to squeeze in next to each other.
    This time the dog's head ends up in Jon's lap - and he lifts his head to try to lick Jon on the chin, before settling his head back into the man's lap again.
    "Well. Usually your self-righteous Brit is more... contained. Polite. Less in-your-face. You gotta admit - when the British get in people's faces, it has a tendency not to end well," she teases, before taking another sip of the whiskey.
    "Man. I'm probably going to splurge on another bottle of this, after this. Damnit. I was afraid that would happen..."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon laughs good-naturedly at the attempted licking. "No, Bear," he says. "You can't have any. I think we've got some leftover curry somewhere if Cael will let me give it to you though."

    Jon snorts, then. "Yes, well, we're /supposed/ to be past all the colonialist garbage. Now we just take over by sending you music and television shows and traumatized psychiatrists who decide they like New York well enough to stay." What's gotten /into/ him? Seriously.

    He goes ahead and pets Bear's ears idly, sipping more of the whiskey. "In all honesty... I've been showing you my 'professional' side more than anything. I've... been showing that to a lot of people. Which is all good and well for patients and conferences, but you're not a patient, are you?" He frowns. "I'm beginning to think maybe I can't... have patients, anymore. Regardless... between the impending potential end of the world and rather strikingly facing my own mortality the other day..."

    Jon sighs and leans back into the couch, partly to give Cael more room. "S'pose I'm just tired of trying to keep up the front, you know? You're my friend anyway; what's the point in trying so hard to be 'Dr. Sims' around you?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I mean. So's America, but is Puerto Rico a state yet? We call it a 'Territory,' but what it really is..." Is a God Damned //colony//. You'd think that shit couldn't survive into the twenty first century.
    "...Oh, God, why am I going into politics?" Cael suddenly asks, letting out a laugh before taking another sip form her glass. She turns her head to study Jon as he speaks - curiosity and amusement playing on her features.
    "No," she agrees. "Not a patient anymore. I, uhh... had to put a stop to that, huh? When you accidentally went and got yourself all wound up in my trauma." Because honestly - that was the bigger factor than their friendship though - honestly, it had probably been a bad idea before that had happened.
    "I don't want you to keep up a front around me," she invites. "I mean, hell. Do I keep up a front around anyone? That shit's just too exhausting."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Sometimes I wonder," Jon muses, peering at Cael. "I mean, everyone puts up a bit of a front, you know? Emotions that are hard to deal with, you... banter with your friends, give them a hard time, so you don't admit how much you care." A pause, to sip his drink, and let the warm burn flow into him. "I mean, I do it too. It's, umm... it's a very English thing."

    He takes another long drink, then sighs. "I... I almost died the other night, Cael," he admits. "With the vampires. And... I saw the state of my heart." He presses his free hand to his chest, and his tension is enough to probably worry Bear. "It's burdened, heavy. I need to... be /myself/. Stop lying to my friends. Which... I know you'll probably think the same thing Martin does--how is that a 'sin'? But it's not about... sin. It's about... mmm. If I am not acting as my true self, in balance and harmony, then how can I be in harmony with everything around me?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Jon calls out Cael's shit right to her face - and it hits home. It shows for a moment, in the tension around in eyes, and a stiffening of her shoulders - and then it melts away as she counters with an amused grin, "Who says I //care//? Bloody fuckin' liar, I say." She takes a sip of the whiskey before adding, "Yeah, fine, okay. You've probably got me there."
    It's as Jon's tension starts to ratchet up that Bear gives him away, whining and nuzzling at the man's hand to prompt him to keep petting. Bear takes his work very seriously - unfortunately for anyone of a mind to keep their turmoil to themselves.
    Of course, what Bear //can't// do is pinpoint the source of that tension for anyone. "But you made it through," Cael says reassuringly. "We'll make it through this, too. And - well. Look, you do you. I've got no grounds to complain,, the shit I put people through."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon goes on and keeps petting Bear, but he's still peering at Cael. "I... I have something to tell you. I just... I don't know if it... lord." He huffs out a breath. "I don't want to make things harder. I know you've got a deadline before the pain comes back."

    There's a knot in his chest that has nothing to do with identity or even fear. He looks at Cael with a rather ridiculously tender expression and says, "I /really/ don't want to hurt you. Gods, if I could figure out how to continue what Raphael did... but it can't last forever, can it? You /do/ have to experience the pain eventually. I just... I'm just worried, if I tell you everything, it'll just... hurt more. And, gods, I don't want to hurt you more, Cael."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Tomorrow," Cael confirms quietly. It's been looming over her - even as she tries not to think about it. "I, uh - Martin says I should just... Jewish up. Use my trauma as a... shield almost. Something about how everyone's always trying to kill the Jews, but they just- they take the pain, and let it strengthen them? I don't know. I've been doing therapy every day..." But she has no way of knowing how she's going to feel when it all comes back - until it all comes back. "I'm going to have to keep it together, I don't have another choice."
    Now they're both anxious, and poor Bear isn't sure what to do. He crawls further into Jon's lap so he can nudge at Cael, and then lean his head into Jon, and then nudge at Cael again, all the while whining quietly.
    "We're both okay, Bear. Don't you worry." She rubs at Bear's head, her gaze locked onto Jon as she tries to figure out what he's getting out.
    "Whatever it is, just tell me. Can't promise I won't freak out some, what with not knowing what it is but- I mean, after you told me about Michael, about what he had planned. It threw me, but I had to hear - and I pulled it back together."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon swallows. Hard. He takes a long drink, to empty the rest of his glass, and then pours another. He'll pour more for Cael, too, if she needs it. Like he needs to bolster himself.

    "I know what my... intended role in this 'game' is. As Gaea's Champion." A pause. "They mean me to die. Sacrifice myself to save the universe." He shakes his head. "I don't think Gaea... wants that? Wants me to die. And I'm not intending to die if I can help it!" He says that rapidly, staring at Ceal /very/ earnestly. "And if I do--I don't intend to let it /stick/. I told Martin I'd hitch a ride on Ra's barge out of the underworld if I have to and I meant it. But as it stands, I'm supposed to be dead by summer."

    He stares at her for a long moment, watching for signs of pulling away. It's what he expects. That she'll pull in on herself, pull away from him.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's hand tightens on the glass, and her distress shows plainly in her features, the way her eyebrows drawn down, and together, the way her lips part slightly, as her breath catches in her throat. Whatever she'd been expecting, it clearly wasn't that - and it was no surprise that yes - it clearly did hurt her. "Oh God," she breathes quietly. "Jon..."
    But that's where her reaction differs from what he expects, and fears. She sets her glass down carefully on the nearby table - and then she leans in towards him abruptly, wrapping her arms around him tightly. God, why this? Why exactly what she'd been afraid of? "Why you?" she asks quietly. "It's wrong. Agnes needs you - and Martin. You- you have a family. Why you?"
    Will he find a way out of it? Was prophecy even to be believed? "I'd take your place," she offers quietly. If she could. If whatever asshole-ish powers that be would allow her. "God damnit, Jon..." she murmurs, as tears leak silently from her eyes, and Bear licks at them to try to comfort his person. She turns her head the otherway, to escape the dog's tongue - but she doesn't let go of the man sitting beside her.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks rapidly in surprise at the hug, then wraps his own arms around Cael and closes his eyes. "It's not fair," he whispers. "But it wouldn't be fair on /anyone/. Everyone has people that love them, that care about them... and if they don't, that's just as bad."

    He turns his head, and pushes aside the strange, sudden urge to bury his face in Cael's hair. Instead, he just sighs, and says, "I wouldn't /want/ you to take my place. I'm going to come back." He says that fiercely. "I need you to be there when I do. I need you by my side until I have to face this. I--gods, I hate this. Not your fault," he adds. "It's just... I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. But... if I didn't /tell/ you..."

    He swallows. "Thank you for not... not pulling away," he adds, softly.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I know you wouldn't," Cael breathes softly, as he responds to her desire to take his place. "But I'd still do it if I could. If it would- if it could keep your family together, it'd be worth it," she insists in a quiet voice, clinging to him tightly as her heart aches in her chest.
    Why this? Why? "Fuck the Gods," she murmurs quietly. "Fuck the lot of them." Heartless, unfeeling pricks.
    "I don't know what I'm going to be like tomorrow, Jon," she admits. "But right now - this is me. This is what I want. This is where I want to be. I- I hope-" Will she be strong enough? Or will she run from the pain?
    Why did he give her only two weeks?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Fuck the gods," Jon agrees quietly. "I'm not going to let them take me away from the people who love me. The people I love. I'm /not/. This is... foolish, and stupid. Making everything come down to me, or even just the JLD, or even just /Earth/. It's /wrong/. And I intend to tell them so."

    He stretches a bit, to put his glass down, so he doesn't spill any of the expensive whiskey. Sighs, and answers the unspoken question. "These spells to hold memories back... they can't work forever. If they do, and you don't deal with whatever's happened? It'll just burst. Maybe... maybe Raphael knew something we don't. Maybe you'll be okay to handle the pain, when it comes back. Maybe the time you have is all he could give. But... I think you'll be strong enough, to handle it."

    He swallows. "Whatever happens tomorrow... I'll be here for you. I promise. /Whatever/ happens. Even if... if you can't stand to see me for a while. I'll be there, when you're ready."

    Without really thinking about it, he turns to press a kiss to her hair. He really /should/ think about it, the ache in his chest and the swirling emotions, that he keeps thinking of her in the same breath as 'family.' But he's always been unutterably dense about these things.

Cael Becker has posed:
    The people he loves. The people he loves? But he can't mean her - can he? He's married. He's married to //Martin//. And there's no chance - none - that he could possible mean...
    Cael feels an ache in her chest as she struggles against the growing certainty that... Alis had been right. But what could she possibly do about that - on the eve of battle, with the timer running out on her fragile sanity - is that really the time to say or so anything?
    So she squeezes her eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the sobs. "I hope you're right," she manages. "But I think you've got more faith in me than I do..."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Probably," Jon replies, with a low rumble of a chuckle. "But other people usually have more faith in us than we do in ourselves."

    He opens his eyes, lets tears spill out of them. No sobbing, for him; he's done enough of that, recently. "I'm terrified, Cael," he whispers. "He's going to take me tomorrow, and I'm terrified--"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Bear whines, nudging at Cael and Jon - the poor pup desperately trying to comfort the confused, anxious, frightened pair - and finds himself largely ignored, given the circumstances.
    Cael's heart continues to ache as she struggles desperately to control her confused emotions over what is coming - for her, for someone she cares so deeply about. Over just how much she //does// care for the man beside her, and the impossibility of the situation. Over just how much harm those feelings could do...
    And yet, as he talks about his terror - his terror at facing the same monster that had taken her, she somehow can't help but lift her head to try to comfort, and reassure him. The kiss is almost an instinct - and it lasts for only the briefest of moments before her brain kicks back in, and she abruptly pulls away from Jon, her eyes widening.
    Shit. //Shit//. That's exactly what she didn't want to- "Oh, God, Jon - I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she apologizes hastily.
    It's not like she can get far, though - not without leaving the couch. Not with Bear taking up about half of it.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's first instinct is to freeze, and Cael's pulled back by the time his brain actually registers what just happened. Cael kissed him. And... he didn't really mind? No, actually, he's been half-considering it since she walked in the door. And some part of him would like to do it again. And... /Cael's/ emotions, that flaring aura about her, the /way/ she cares about him...

    Oh.

    "Umm," he manages. Stammers, really. "That's. Ahh. Umm." He lets go enough to let her move back, but it's like he's thinking through molasses. This has always been his biggest blind spot, and difficult to parcel out.

    He blinks at Cael for a moment. Swallows. She's scared. He should probably... do something about that, yes? "I didn't... ahh... that is, it's not... you didn't upset me. I mean. I hadn't... I didn't /mind/. But umm. I... should probably talk to Martin before I do that again." He blinks at her, owlishly.

    "Unless that was, ahh... the whiskey? Or... lord, I'm bad at this."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I didn't- I didn't mean..." Cael stammers - as Bear finally drops of the couch, going to Cael, and putting his paws up in her lap as he leans his weight into her. Her hands automatically go to his head, stroking at his head and ears as a confusing swirl of emotions continue to assail her. "I- you were upset, and I didn't mean to- we're just friends," she stammers out desperately, trying to deny what just happened.
    He's married. God, he's married, and a mess like this is only going to hurt all of them, and they can't afford that. Certainly not now.
    "We're just friends," she insists. "I don't know why I- I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon keeps blinking at her. /Peering/ at her, actually. "I don't know if that's true," he says finally. "When I was facing Anubis and Ma'at... I thought of you, as one of the people I had to come back to. Martin, and Agnes... and you." He swallows. "I... won't insist that... anything change, but if I'm going to be honest with myself... well. My emotions are evidently not entirely... friendly."

    He hesitates, and pulls away a little more, reaching out for his glass. More alcohol, maybe not the /best/ idea, but it's never led to this kind of problem for him before. "I, ahh. Martin and I... Martin kisses other people sometimes. Or he used to. I could, I just... don't, and I'd need to... talk to him. You needn't... panic. Unless. Well. No, of course, that's ridiculous, not everyone's... okay with that. I'm sorry. I didn't... mean to assume. I just... hadn't realized. Until now. But, umm..."

    He frowns down at his glass. "I'm /really/ bad at this," he repeats.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael finally tears her gaze away from Jon, staring down at the dog in her lap, and wrapping her arms around him as she tries to regain some semblance of control. The pup is stoic, and calm, and patient as Cael holds to him tightly, her fingers digging into his fur, and scritching at him rhythmically.
    Was Jon actually saying he thought he might love her, too? That it might be okay? That- but how could any of that be true? What if it all blew up?
    "I didn't mean to do that," she finally breathes quietly. "I didn't mean to- you need Martin. You told me that - and the last thing I'd want to do, with everything that's going to- with everything that might happen, is to have your life just blow up in your face because I- I really didn't mean to do that," she tries to explain, without releasing her comforting grip on her dog.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks up and just regards Cael for a moment. He sighs and reaches out, hesitates, then puts his hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he says softly. "Nothing's going to blow up in my life. This isn't... it's not like that. Martin's not going to be mad because I have feelings for someone else. Not if I /talk/ to him about it. We're not... this isn't a soap opera where one kiss ruins a marriage. We /talk/ about things, and work through them. Okay?"

    He sits, frowning, and just... looks at Cael. Trying to sort through the emotions, seeing things in a new light.

Cael Becker has posed:
    There's a long silence as Cael simply turns Jon's words over in her head, his hand on her shoulder, and breathes deeply to try to calm the maelstrom her emotions had become. She wanted Jon to be right - and he would know, wouldn't he? "Still," she finally manages, her voice a little less panicked. "I really didn't mean to- I was going to give things more time. See how- well everything that's happening panned out, and then- I meant to talk to Martin myself, because you don't- it isn't right to mess with someone's marriage."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Emotions rarely wait for convenient moments," Jon says wryly. "I should know. I'm... bad with my own, as you can guess. I really didn't... it hadn't even occurred to me. But... you knew?" He sighs. "I'm sorry. And you've been worried you're going to ruin my family..."

    He hesitates, then leans in to, if she doesn't pull away, moves his arm from her shoulder to give her a side hug. A friendly one. "Do you want to talk to Martin first? Or do you want to wait until... after we see how things are? After tomorrow?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I wasn't completely sure. Alis was," Cael mutters quietly. Her form remains stiff and uncertain for a few moments, before she begins to relax against Jon's side, her face still buried against Bear's mass for the moment - but the pup seems far less desperate to calm Cael, and simply wags his tail from time to time.
    "She wanted me to act on it, but I was- I mean, you're married. To a //guy//. Even if she was right about what I was feeling, I thought there was never a chance that- I mean, I just didn't think it would go well." She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly as she adds, "I barely know Martin - and I've never... Jon, I've never felt like this about //anyone,//" and the confusion is clear in her voice as she makes that admission. "I'm sure you know better than me what to do next. I just... really don't want to hurt anyone."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon laughs. "I've had... two relationships. One of those ended /very/ badly, and the other... is Martin. Nor am I relationship counselor. I..." He coughs. "I, ahh. Well. Relationships are /very/ confusing for me. For... reasons that... well. I /do/ fall for men and women, but I don't... ahh... well. It's only emotional."

    He sighs. "Gods, we're a mess, huh? Look, let's... I'll talk to Martin. You don't need to figure out how to... broach that. If that's okay. And then we see how things are, after tomorrow. Figure it out. I... would hate to... mess things up, if you've never... felt that way before. I don't want to hurt /you/. You know?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Bear... g'off me," Cael finally manages, shoving the dog off her lap with a small, awkward smile on her features before she adds, "G'boy." She ruffles the dog's fur, retrieving her whiskey, and taking a small sip, before she'll take a cautious glance towards Jon.
    "I really didn't want to risk messing things up," she finally admits. "I mean - I figured, I've got no chance in hell, ya know? Given everything, and the last thing I'd want was... you're important to me, and if Martin told me to fuck off..." Then what was she supposed to do with that? She runs a hand through her hair, before taking another sip.
    "Whatever you think we need to do next... It's fine. And I really am sorry that I just- anyways. Wasn't thinking, obviously."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You care about me, I was hurting..." Jon sighs. "I think I was thinking the same thing earlier, I just didn't... recognize that. Remind me, sometime, to tell you how /dense/ I was about Martin for /months/."

    He leans over to put his head on top of hers for a moment. "We'll figure things out, alright? And... /please/ tell me if you're ever /not/ fine with something. Don't just go along because I 'know what I'm doing,' that's a recipe for disaster."

    He sighs, straightens, and sips at his own whiskey. "I /am/ going to be rather put out if you suddenly start being /nice/ to me all the time. It'll be confusing."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael lets out a snort, a broader, easier smile settling onto her features. "Fuck that," she answers with simple sincerity. "I don't just //stop// being //me,// you know." She gives Jon a nudge with her shoulder, seemingly content to just sit side by side for the moment - with Bear's head settled in on one leg, and a glass of whiskey cupped in her fingers. "And if something bothers me, you'll fuckin' hear about it," she adds. After a sigh she mutters, "God, this is not how I saw tonight going."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Nor I," Jon replies with a smirk, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Cael's and then sighing. "I think it's good, if I'm being honest. For me, anyway. Michael would've been able to tell, and just... dug it up and tormented me with it all. And I /know/ you'd hate /that/."

    He glances over at Cael. "Shoot the bastard, will you? Just unload that whole bloody clip I gave you, right into him. The Atlantean's done some kind of spell with the blood I got from Michael's wing, it should remove a lot of the protections the angels might have. Level the playing field, so people like you can make a difference. Go toe-to-toe. But Michael... give him what-for, before he drags me off."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Oh... God, you think so?" Cael asks - looking genuinely agast by the thought of Michael using //her// to torment Jon. "I never stopped to think that- I mean..." She sighs heavily, and shakes her head. What a mess. What a fucking mess.
    "You better believe I'm going to hurt that bastard," she remarks with venom. "If I can- if there's any way to stop this before-" Her free hand locks tightly into Bear's fur, trying to keep a clamp on the panic trying to rise in her. "I really want to be here for you, Jon. I do. I hope I can."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks over at her gravely. "You /have/ been. You've been here, and that means... so much. And, hey... I..." He hesitates. Not ready to quite come out and say it. "I care about you, a lot. That's not going to stop because you're hurting."

    He sighs. "I've been taking torture training lessons from Red Robin. I've been building up my mental defenses. I'm going to use this to get a statement out of him, and use /that/ to figure out what makes him tick, and how we stop this whole thing. The Great Mother believes in me." He smiles. "We've got this, okay? It'll be hard--I /know/ it'll be hard. But we've got literally every major group of superheroes helping with this. We're bringing the world together to fight them. I'll hold onto that, and... and to the people I care about. Getting back to you all. Okay?"

    He frowns. "I just... wish we could've found Agnes, before... ahh, well. We'll find her after."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I don't want anyone else to go through what I went through - least of all you," Cael says with a heavy sigh. "You know I would have done anything to stop all this. Hell, I tried. Got me no where." She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she adds, "I want you to be alright. I want to save the world - all of reality - and I want you to be alright, and... I want to be alright. I want to be here for you. ...and I want to bring Agnes back for you." She still hates that they'd failed in that.
    "...don't ask much, do I?" She finally finishes off her first glass of the whiskey, and leans forward to top herself off. "But I guess we'll figure it out. Not a lot of choice otherwise."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Yeah." Jon stares down at the glass of whiskey for a moment. "We're not the first to face something like this. After a certain point, bigger stakes get meaningless. Save the country, the world, the galaxy, the universe... what's all that matter? It's too big to wrap your head around. I'm going to save my city. I'm going to make sure Michael doesn't break me and I come home to you and Martin. I'm going to find Agnes, and make sure she has the training and preparation for this that I didn't. I'm going to make sure nobody dies that doesn't have to--and that all the people like me and you and Terry O'Neil get our chances to give the angels what-for."

    He takes a drink of whiskey. "I'll be alright. I know I will. I have a /lot/ to live for."

    He turns and grins at her. "Here... let me play you what I was listening to when you came in. From the /start/ of the album." A pause. "It's... decent, I promise. I'd say good, but I'm biased."