16 [accidental video]

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[OOC: V, feel free to stick that scene we talked about with Sinclayah here, I'm getting the feeling that this might be one of those weeks where I never see you. Everyone else is welcome too, natch.][Jack was just about to do something or other with his communicator--in fact, he accidentally hit the button to start the feed before he was ready, and

Comments

[action] hahaha yyyyeah. Especially this weekend. x_x I'll be on on Sunday though?

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[After showing up in the hedge maze's pool (he wasn't aware there was a pool IN the maze) with nothing but a faulty communicator, his grimy Daddy suit and a pistol, and being trapped in the maze for three straight days, Sinclair was not happy. He was even less happy when he came back to his room to find it missing some very important things and the smell of burnt paper was still lingering. Disgruntled, he changed out of the blood-stained suit into his normal pleated pants and white shirt, and turned to inspect the pistol - and suddenly it all came crashing back to him. Jack

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[There was a bit of a commotion from behind the door, though it didn't come from Jack--inside the room were two dogs excited at the prospect of a visitor, and four more even further excited at the prospect of seeing their own human again. For a moment, there was no response to the knock but a frantic mess of scrabbling and barking. Then, Jack's voice, muffled through the door:]

You'll never get to see who it is if I can't get the door because you're all standing right there. Scoot.[And after a few more moments, presumably of dog-arranging, he opened the door with Jasmine cradled between his bad arm and his body, her paws hanging daintily over his bandaged right hand

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[All the dogs cluster around him, yipping happily, and he grins and kneels and touches them all. They all bounce about each other as he stands, still grinning, and look at Jack.]

Well, don't they look excited t'see me. [He pauses.] Did you know that hedge maze outside moves just like the mansion? I was tryin' t'get out t'see you and it was like it didn't want me to. [A long, annoyed sigh.] This goddamn mansion's got it out for me, alright. [He pauses again.] ...You look like hell, son.

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[Jack nods all the while as Sinclair talks, looking dazed.]

There was an event. I guess I slept through the announcement, but...Elaine's door was blocked, I couldn't reach Johnny. I thought...I thought the mansion didn't bring you back.

I feel like hell.

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[Sinclair pushes past all the dogs and grabs Jack's shoulder, ushering him into the room and shutting the door.] Cmon, now, sport, let's get you cleaned up. You look like you need one hell of a helpin' hand. [He walks over and pulls clothes out of the closet, throwing them onto a nearby chair. He then pulls another snifter of brandy out, pouring two glasses with a deft hand. Turning to Jack, he holds out the glass, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.]

I wouldn't put it past this place t'keep the dead dead, but looks like it made good on its promise t'keep me around. [He smiles at Jack again.] Here I am. Don't keep worryin' about it, son.

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Sinclair, don't come in--!

[Too late. But maybe Sinclair won't notice. He didn't notice his own mirror for ages. Jack resolutely keeps his eyes away from the message, but he's so clearly uncomfortable and avoiding something that it only serves to make it more conspicuous.

Other interesting things: the second small bed that usually occupies the inner half of the room is missing, though Jack's bed is still closer to the door, as if something should be there.

He sits down, shoulders slumped like a condemned man, and stares into his brandy without drinking.]

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[But he did notice, and, as he goes about the room, he pulls a sheet out of the closet and drapes it over the mirror without so much as a pause.] Goddamned mirrors. [He looks back at Jack.] Cmon, now. Don't like seein' you like this.

[He snaps at the dogs following, and the five snap into place, sitting patiently.]

Let's get you cleaned up, son. Don't make me start pullin' you around.

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[Celeste sits for a moment, as if to acknowledge the command, and then stands, returning to Jack's side and pressing her nose into his knee; he strokes her head absently, then stands, obediently gathering the clothes Sinclair found him.]

It's not just that. [He jerks his head at the mirror.]

Cindy's gone.

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[He notices Celeste sit with a feeling of pride; he doesn't snap again at her when she returns to Jack.] I know. [Yes, he's been watching the comms. It's easy enough when you're trapped in a maze and you can't do anything with the damn thing but listen.

He stops moving for a second and claps a hand on Jack's shoulder again, and for the first time he's not smiling. His voice is quieter.] I know she was important t'you, son, but you're goin' t'have t'accept that there's nothin' you could've done t'stop her. [His voice goes even lower.] I won't let you drop down this slippery slope you're treadin' on.

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[He jerks at the touch--always does--and forces a ghastly smile.]

What slope? I'll be fine.

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Can't lie t'a liar, son. Especially not this one. [A half-smile, and he pokes the clothes.] Cmon, now. Clean yourself up.

[He pauses.] How long's the mirror been like that?

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[Jack doesn't have the energy to manage a glare, but he does stare disconcertingly at Sinclair for a moment before heading to the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack so he can still talk. He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of the sink running.]

I don't know. I haven't been back here except to let the dogs out and feed them. It was like this when I came in about...half an hour ago.

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[He nods, sitting on the bed.]

You're goin' t'want t'make sure you only use mirrors when needed, then. If you're gettin' messages you're bein' watched by the other you. [His voice darkens.] Or someone else's. Might be Lamb's, again. That's who was watchin' me.

[A long pause.]

What d'you need, son?

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It's the other me. [Jack sounds almost nonchalant about it.] That's my handwriting.

[A pause while he splashes water over his face and into his hair.]

I don't guess I need anything.

[Naturally, he is thinking of physical needs, things crucial to his survival, and he isn't suffering from lack of food (though he lacks the desire to eat it, at the moment) or shelter (though he can't seem to sleep).]

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. . .

[He sighs.] Well, I suppose that makes some sense, if he's a flip'a your personality. [A pause.] Can't imagine what mine'd be like.

Now, d'you mean you don't need anythin' as a whole, or anythin' as, ah... [He sounds slightly amused.] As in clothes and food and a roof over your head?

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Yours would probably be...

[And then he pauses, realizing that many of the ways he could finish that sentence would sound like insults: he'd probably be nice (but Sinclair is nice, Jack thinks, just...not exactly in the same way as most nice people), or maybe honest. He just decides not to finish the sentence.

He sticks his head out the door, face dripping.]

What else would I need?