Somebody knows, somebody's seen. Somebody knows right where you've been.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark is in a tree.

Yes, you read that right. This would make a great deal of sense if he were a ferret and some sense if he were a tiger, but, at the present moment, he is a person. In a tree.

No, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he suspects he's going to have to. Apparently, he was taking a walk through the park, contemplating whimsy

Comments

[riversodeep]

Andy is having, actually, a pretty decent week. Her ward isn't getting hit by cars, beat up by hallways, or excessively lied to; granted, the thing about Mac's apartment getting firebombed is deeply annoying, but this sort of thing happens to Mac, and at least no one was injured.

She's getting herself a cup of coffee and a muffin from the kitchen, with a newpaper tucked under her arm. She wanders up to Jack's table and motions at an empty chair; hey, it's always nice to get to know the people around the building.

"Mind if I sit here?"

[stopdropanddie]

Jack looks up from his journal and his deep contemplation of Narnian politics and why he really should have paid attention when Laura (who is a lie) read Sydney those books. The fact that he doesn't actually recognize her isn't really that surprising. There are... A great deal of people he doesn't know here, which, admittedly, is something he needs to remedy.

"Not at all," he responds. "I'm just catching up on two months of backlogged journal entries. Amazing how this city can go completely to hell in such a short amount of time."

Granted, it was going to hell before he toddled off to Narnia and this is nothing compared to what happened when he went off to Switzerland for a week. Still. He's bitter. It's a Jack Bristow thing.

[riversodeep]

"This city will go to hell at the drop of a hat," Andy says, setting down her cup and muffin and extending a hand. "Andy Mackenzie. I used to work as a paramedic here. I'm not sure whether to be grateful or annoyed that I got out of that just before this CLF business started up."

And it's not like finding a ward in Torchwood has been all down days and Christmas bonuses. Especially finding a ward who hurts if you lie to him.

Not that she's complaining.

[stopdropanddie]

"So I've noticed." It could be a flippant comment, but it comes with the tiniest of smirks. The other Chicago was not nearly this insane and he and his team once got into a fight with a hydra, but he can't say he doesn't appreciate the madness even if it's madness he can't seem to get a handle on.

"Jack Bristow. Wanderer. Former CIA." A year ago he wouldn't have admitted that, but, well, no CIA here is going to recognize him, now is it? "I'm hoping to ensure that an end gets put to this... CLF business sooner, rather than later."

It would be over if he and Hunt hadn't both been disposed... Or so he'd like to think.

[aint_nosurprise]

John Casey has been on a soul searching journey to accept his new boobs for the last two months. It has been a life changing experience.

At least, he's reached a place of acceptance, which was the whole point after all. His soul searching journey never involved leaving the borders of the city though, watching the journals and hoping that there'd be something to do beyond the boob acceptance.

He steps into the kitchen after a recent shower so his hair's still wet. John Casey raises an eyebrow at Boss Bristow.

"Sir." Casey nods at him. "...where have you been?"

[stopdropanddie]

Jack looks up, his brows knit in a way that suggests that he's about to answer a question that he really doesn't want to answer. He could lie, but that would make him look like an incompetent or a neglectful leader and saying that it's classified will make his kids feel alienated. He's worked with them for over a year. A lot of his old habits have died even as some... Will probably never die.

So with a flat, expressionless tone, he looks Casey right in the eye and says one word, "Narnia."

[aint_nosurprise]

Casey stares. It's not as though Casey spends his days thinking about children's fantasy novels. The name doesn't process completely through his head at first.

He snorts when it does occur to him (the thing with the lion and the half dear guy), and then he clears his throat with a grunt and examines Jack's serious face for a long, quiet moment.

"You're... not joking."

Of course he's not. Bristow doesn't joke. At least not about Narnia.

[stopdropanddie]

The staring continues, because this is possibly the most awkward conversation he has ever had to have with anyone, least of all one of his team.

"I honestly wish I were," he responds and then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And I haven't told Sydney yet, but I think her reaction would be far less... Forgiving."

Because yeah, your deadbeat dad toddles off to Narnia? That reeks of a man who just ran out of excuses.

[sittinontrains]

Jamal stands at the bottom of the tree and stares up curiously at the man on the top of it. He has already scouted the base to be sure there isn't an animal that he could be trying to get away from.

"Shee-ka-go *people are crazy*," Jamal says in all Hindi even if he's learned all those English words by now.

He may just walk away, but he wants to watch this adult try to climb out of a tree first. Jamal takes a step backwards and continues staring. If another kid comes along, he might make a bet over how long it will take for the man to fall.

And then run away if he loses the bet.

[sarkraticmethod]

It takes Sark a moment to realize that there is a small child staring at him and once he does, he swears under his breath in Russian and looks up at the sky for a moment as if wondering what exactly he did to deserve this.

"I can think of a great many things you'd be better off doing," he calls down, making it sound as much like a threat as he can manage without actually... Making it a threat. It's a kid. Kids have a tendency to stare. He can't really blame him for that, but... Really now.

He hits a weak limb, slips and catches himself with a grunt of pain, and the limb hits the ground a few feet away from the kid... Well, maybe that'll scare him off. Or make him more inclined to see if he'll fall.

[sittinontrains]

Jamal picks the stick up and taps the trunk of the tree.

"I think same for you," he calls up and waves the stick. If the man can climb up the tree, Jamal can watch him try to climb back down.

Other kids are being drawn to the area, apparently one kid staring upwards will inevitably bring any child in the area. It's like taking out a star wars sword or pokemon trading cards. Not that Jamal knows of this. There's only a few kids here. They're parents are obviously not far away, purchasing from vendors or conversing on benches.

Jamal turns to the nearest kid who is, at least, a few years older, but has lived a much more sheltered life. "Hey, you have money? Want to bet when he'll fall?"

Yes, he's involving all of the children in a betting game. He is betting that Sark will not fall against his better judgment!

[sarkraticmethod]

Small Indian child is a smartass. If he were a lesser man, he'd considering throwing things at him, but he's far too mature for that.

...Oh, and now this has become a spectacle. Well. Sark can handle that. He tests the branch he's on, figures it will support his weight and is at least, slightly comfortable to sit on and proceeds to sit on it.

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares down at the ringleader of the assembled children. "And what, my cunning young friend, are you going to do if I decide not to be sporting about this?"

And if the answer is to start throwing rocks at him... He has no problem shifting into a tiger and scaring them. He'd rather not, because trying to get back to the Kashtta as either a tiger or a ferret will be an exercise in fail, but it's better than being beaten by children.

[nowinprint]

Logically, of course, the chances of Dmitri Lang wandering through the park at just such a moment as to catch Sark up in a tree were pretty slim, at best.

Metaphysically, though, and according to the eternal laws of irony, how could she not have happened upon him?

As it turns out, the absolute best place to get Irish Sodas and apple crepes is this tiny little food vendor somewhere around the Arts Campus, and Dmitri was just heading off with a haul of tasty snacks, possibly to hunt down Toshiko and introduce her to Chicago street food, when she noticed someone in a tree. And the way they held themselves, it seemed like they were in that tree for A Reason, probably either retrieving someone's cat or scoping out good places for snipers, and so she actually looked to see if she could help or something

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark knew this was going to happen. He knew this was going to happen because the universe hates him and wants to punish him. He debates just standing perfectly still and making it look like he knows what he's doing and he is not, in fact, stuck, and wonders how long he can get away with that.

The branch he's standing on protests this decision and even if he doesn't weigh all that much, he's, well, significantly heavier than the average thing that perches on these branches. Right. Finding a way down now.

Oh, he should also probably awknowledge Dmitri's existence. He does so, with a slightly annoyed, "Remind me the next time you have a brilliant idea to take it with a grain of salt." It would probably sound mean if he didn't look like a discontented cat at the moment.

[nowinprint]

She will not start laughing SHE WILL NOT START LAUGHING SHE - okay, but it's hard. She tacks on a pleasant expression and shoves the first four responses out of her head, and then takes a closer look at his expression.

"Julian Sark," she says, folding her arms. It's awkward, with the food, but she manages it. "Am I correct in assuming that you saw a tree, cooly decided to do something illogical, climbed the tree, decided that it made no sense, and having decided that, started looking immediately for a way down?" Because if that's the case... oh, the boy's worse off than she realized.

Or exactly as bad off as she realized. That too.

[sarkraticmethod]

The look on Sark's face can be described in three words:

Dot. Dot. Dot.

"What is the point, Ms. Lang?" He finally blurts out, sounding more exasperated than anything. At least, she's got him emoting, even if that emotion is the emotion right before someone starts bashing their head against the trunk of a tree. "And don't tell me there isn't one and there isn't supposed to be one, because even if that's true, I'm having a hard time understanding why anyone would find this appealing."

[pressthatbutton]

Katja is in the park, because Katja doesn't really want to be in HQ until they've set her laboratories up right and proper -- and then she'll probably just tear them all apart and put everything back together the right way, but that's beside the point. The point is, the day is warm, the park is there, and Katja...um, exists.

She noticed the man in the tree from pretty far away, since she's given to keeping her eyes off the ground when wandering about. As she came closer, she realized that she recognized said man in the tree. And now she's under the tree, leaning against it and looking up through the branches.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Snark'n'Run," she calls up to him. "Caught in a tree. K-I-S-S--oh whatever, you're the only one up there and hell if I want to think that about you anyway."

[sarkraticmethod]

If there was anything Des didn't want right now, the random woman from the Conrad whose name he doesn't even know was probably ten of them. Really. Chicago is a big city. Obnoxious people who, for some reason, grate on your nerves should be easy to avoid! He avoids Vaughn and they live in the same damn building!

He does a fairly good impression of a person who is totally up in a tree for a REASON and not up there, because he can't get down and glowers down at her. "Well. You seem to have a certain predilection for staring. Now is that a hobby or do you really just lack anything better to do with your time?"

[pressthatbutton]

Katja snorts. "Wouldn't having a hobby imply that I had nothing better to do with my time?" she asks. "And one could do better than staring; at least mine's informative. Yours seems to have just gotten you stuck up a tree."

Part of her is tempted to climb up the tree just to prove that she can do it better than Mr. Smugpants up here. Part of her is saying that's a bad idea because she's not wearing the right shoes. The part that's winning is telling her she'll drop her cigarette if she tries, but once the cancer stick is gone, she may just have to injure Sark's pride some more.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark really, really hates this city. And most of the people in it, barring certain individuals. It's times like this, he realizes that he hasn't really changed all that much. Sometimes he still just wants to garotte every person who looks at him sideways.

This woman. Is topping that list.

"I am not stuck," he says, practically hissing. Were he a cat, he'd be bristling. As it stands... Maybe his hair just looks fluffier than normal.

That is totally a valid argument and you will never convince him otherwise.