[Introduction: Jack Benjamin] Escape from the living death

[true_n_the_dark]

[Spoiler (click to open)]He'd done it. Jack had asked his own father to kill him, to order his execution. Thomasina had said, "Your father wants for you a living death, to brick you into a wall with someone who loves you - who you can't stand the sight of... until you produce an heir, which Silas will take, and raise right this time

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[everdo2you]

Bobby Ray has been out for an afternoon of strawberry picking. He'd come upon the patch by chance, and it immediately reminded him of his youth, growing up in rural Alabama. He promptly returned to the Mansion, grabbed a big bucket and spent a good hour filling it to the brim. He's intent on washing them off in the kitchen and then settling down on the front porch to eat as many as he can before his stomach protests.

[true_n_the_dark]

Bobby Ray, you are seriously way too adorable to be dealing with this issuetastic angstbucket. We command you, salute you, and send our sympathies.

At this point, Jack is defaulting to drinking. He's also realizing that no-one seems to care, so he's not bothering with the women, he might even like to get some action with someone.

Dizzy himself in debauchery, or something.

His self-destructive impulses have reached an all-time high.

And that's why an inebriated man is stumbling into the kitchen, looking for more liquor, so early in the day. Did we mention? he also barely slept.

We're so sorry, Bobby Ray.

[everdo2you]

Bobby Ray is holding a colander full of strawberries under running water when Jack stumbles into the kitchen. He looks up, a friendly smile on his face, but that falters slightly when he takes in the other man's state. Oh, damn. Poor guy.

He shuts off the water, drying his hands on a dishtowel and moves over to the stranger. Not too close, not getting in his personal space, but near enough to help if he needs it.

"Did the bar open early today?" he teases lightly. "I'm Bobby Ray. I don't think we've met."

[true_n_the_dark]

Bobby Ray, you saint.

"... there's a bar? I've just been having this stuff."

Jack waves a now empty bottle of bourbon at Bobby Ray.

Pause.

"Want some?" Oh. Right. "Huh. No more. Let's get some."

[everdo2you]

"Well now, the magic cabinet over there can keep you supplied as easily as the bar," Bobby Ray drawls. "But are you certain you don't want some coffee? You're going to have a killer hangover." Spoken like a man who's suffered through his own.

He's a bit amused by the offer to share. He also knows it's always better to drink with a friend than drink alone.

A thought strikes him. "Are you new here?" And drinking off the shock?

[true_n_the_dark]

"Hate the stuff," which is not true, he doesn't, but he's not quite himself right now.

"And yeah.. King Silas' brand new exile. Woot!"

He raises the empty bottle, tries to suck off the last few drops, frowns, throws it at the sink, and says, "What cupboard, you said?"

And just then he kind of half stumbles into a chair.

[everdo2you]

"I'll make you a deal?" Bobby Ray offers, leaning a hip against the counter. "Drink a glass of water and I'l hand deliver you a bottle of whatever liquor you want?" A pause. "I'll even show you the bar."

And probably stick by your side to deposit your black-outed self into a bed, if necessary. Because Bobby Ray can't leave him alone in good conscience. Not in this state.

[true_n_the_dark]

"Water makes you rust," Jack groans, but he nods.

Partially because the guy is hot, but also because here's someone who is a) nice to him, b) doesn't seem bent on fixing him, c) possibly able to give him further booze.

"I'm Jack. Jack fucking Benjamin."

[everdo2you]

Bobby Ray laughs, the sound amused. "Maybe it's the rust that prevents the massive hangover," he suggests, making a glass of ice water for the other man and placing it on the table in front of him. He takes a seat across. He has no intention of getting the booze until the water is gone.

"You mention a fella named Silas and being exiled? If that's slang for something, I don't follow."

[true_n_the_dark]

Jack can't help but snicker at that. A fella named Silas.

"Never mind that. Not important," he says as he reaches for the glass of water.

Pause.

"Aren't you exiled here?"

[everdo2you]

Bobby Ray rubs his chin before shaking his head with a decided no. "I reckon some people might look at it that way. Some people think it's heaven. Or hell. I just think I ended up here. Random fate, I guess you could say."

He gives a little shrug. "I wasn't dead before I got here. Not even close. And not a criminal either."

[true_n_the_dark]

"Well, I'm not dead. Quasimodo ad the Farmboy made sure of that," he says with visible resentment. Shrug. "Not a criminal either. Well. I guess you'd say so. Politics."

He makes a huffing sound, stares at the glass of water, then abruptly downs it.

"Okay, where's the bar?"

[everdo2you]

Bobby Ray has no idea who Jack is talking about, but the Farmboy might strike a little close to home. "Huh. So your health was in danger when you got here?" He doesn't really wait on an answer. The man is more intent on drinking than talking.

He decides not to show him the plothole. The guy might abuse it for more liquor, but he will show him the bar. He stands, picking up the empty glass and putting it into the sink. "Let's go. It's in the basement."

[true_n_the_dark]

We're so sorry, Bobby Ray - it wasn't meant for you, though. So far, you're pretty alright by Jack, which may not be much, granted, but it's also a rare thing.

"Sure," he says, and stands. "Could do with a proper evening, for a change."

This may or may not be inappropriate talk.

This is a drunk, repressed, oppressed and messed up gay man we've got on our hands, after all, and Bobby Ray, you're nothing to sneeze at.

[everdo2you]

Someone's usually tending the bar, so Bobby Ray reasons the new fellow isn't going to get alcohol poisoning when someone's pouring for him. And he's going to be sure to put a buzz in Johnny's ear that the guy is trying to drink away his problems. Thing is, Bobby Ray isn't sure if Jack's only problem is finding himself at the Mansion; he's thinking not based on what little he's heard so far.

In any case, he's worried for the guy. And he's going to watch out for him, as much as Jack will let him. "I'd say the bar feels like a second home, but then I'd sound like an alcoholic," Bobby Ray teases, keeping his tone light. If Jack seems receptive, he might give him a friendly clap on the shoulder, his way of guiding him safely downstairs. "Back home, we'd play pool most every weekend. Here, I just hang out with my friends."

[true_n_the_dark]

Jack looks at the place, or maybe he's looking for something to say. It's like being in confinement with Lucinda made him socially inept - which, well, it would. It was like being in confinement with a lovesick, hump-happy poodle.

"Dive bar," he says, "nice."

He'll make a beeline to the bar and order himself a whiskey, which he'll force himself not to down right away, though he's fidgetty.

"Where you from anyway?"

Let's not talk about us, alright?