A bad men's night out. [beingtwofold]

[dugdowndeep]

There's something to be said for alarms. Today, namely that were it not for the incessant screeching of his Blackberry at 6:45pm, Jack would have missed meeting his new internet (and soon-to-be real life) friend entirely. As it is, he stares at the contraption for a good three minutes wondering what on earth is so important he would have set an

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[beingtwofold]

Hilariously, being Jack's brain-twin has as one of its unexpected benefits a similar complete disregard for punctuation, which as much as anything else made "sevenish" appear to be a perfectly reasonable time to set a meeting.

Therefore, when Jack arrives Henry is standing - mostly leaning - at the bar, performing what is actually an identical 'how did it get this late, I'm going to have to reschedule this' searching ritual, although for vastly different reasons. But--ah, theeere is his interesting conversant, looking what even to Henry "Sleep Deprivation" Jekyll is rough around the edges. He himself has a day's worth of stubble and hair (longer than the picture) badly in need of a trim, so all around they are a couple of disreputable characters.

"Hi--" he pushes back to proper standing posture, shoving the hair away from his forehead, "--you know, if you say you just got here, I think I'll feel considerably better."

[dugdowndeep]

It makes Jack feel tremendously better that Henry isn't all that much better kept. They've met in the middle, it seems, though Jack is certainly dipping below his usual standards tonight. It occurs to him Henry may not be, and that he may need to lend the man a suit.

"Hello. Yes, in fact I did. I hope you weren't waiting long." He assumes not, considering the question, but he has to mention it alongside a halfway charming smile anyway. This is how we play Nice Jack. It seems to stabilize him, playing a role.

He offers a hand in greeting. "Jack Benjamin, Crown Prince of Gilboa."

...Casually, you know, just dropping that in there like cherry bomb. At least it isn't just to impress the man (though yes of course it's partly for that; ego, Jack has it). He also wants Henry to know from the get-go there are very few limits to what Jack can do for him. Will is the variable.

[beingtwofold]

Henry is dipping about...a toe's worth below his usual standards, but any reconstruction of his wardrobe can only help; Utterson despairs, Emma has just given up buying him anything but t-shirts.

Halfway through the handshake, right around the point when Jack introduces himself as royalty, Henry's mouth twists, a slant sharp enough not just to be incredulity, but complete confusion. Gilboa? He hasn't been familiar with the Bible in so long it doesn't even sound like a joke, just a totally unfamiliar collection of syllables.

"The Nexus" as explanation manages to penetrate fast enough to alleviate his initial disappointment that his new friend is delusional, leaving behind the unfortunate possibility that they might be useless to one another. But he can cope with that and shut up, frankly, he is not so mercenary as to--well, Henry Jekyll has really never been mercenary at all

[dugdowndeep]

Jack already has this terrible habit of giving people (David) his clothes, so he is more than willing to keep sharing.

If it's any reassurance, he does not look delusional (profoundly hung over, yes, but not delusional). Even half falling apart, Jack carries himself like a man who is and always has been larger than life. His handshake is firm, easy, well-practiced. Height is nothing when you have this kind of confidence.

"I can see we're going to have to exchange atlases." No idea where Boston is, no; he guesses a place, but it could well be a name for all he knows. "Pleasure to meet you, Henry."

"What are you drinking?" Or what will you be drinking, because apparently Jack is going to get you something. And a coffee for himself. Didn't he say he didn't drink coffee? ...A coffee with whiskey, then. There's something counter-intuitive about that, Jack.