[That gif made me laugh way too much jfc. BUT ANYWAY...
Yeah. He really regrets trying to be nice to Jack now. He'd say this is the reason they have a bad relationship, but you know there's other things. This is just kind of the cherry on top of the shit frosting.
But you know what? He's not playing this game. Jack doesn't get to bully him anymore. Not at this stage in his life. Crossing his arms he sits back in his chair and braces himself with his feet, stonefacing it out.]
Hm. That's an idea. But how about we do something else. I think I'm going to call your grandmother. Right now. Sounds like a plan, right?
[He is pulling out his phone. Jack wants to screw around? Here's a game: how rich do you have to be to get anyone you want on speakerphone in twenty seconds or less?]
Edited (I fall into verbal patterns way too easy) 2017-05-16 16:25 (UTC)
[ SKREEETCH. That is the sound of them stopping on a dime, probably nearly toppling over in the process. It's like flipping a switch, because suddenly, he doesn't feel like himself anymore. Jack, normal Jack, sane Jack - he'd cow down, bitch a little, and let it go Frozen style. It's not a big deal. He can take a little razzing. But this time, he remembers how ridiculously good it felt to shoot all those people; how amazing it was to see the way they were afraid of him when they were dying. Like he was some kind of god.
And he wants it again. So Tony gets Jack twisting in his seat like a snake, lunging - he means to put himself mostly in Tony's lap, the fingers of his right hand locked around the man's windpipe. ]
Nope. [ He tuts. ] Why do you keep making me hurt you, Tony?
[ They're not Jack's words. They're Jack's words. ]
CW parental abuse ig I should add fuck I'm still bad at this
[As much as he should have seen this coming, should have expected it, been prepared for it, had the police on speed dial—
Tony didn't see this coming at all. And that says something worse. How comfortable he's become with Jack. How much he trusted him. He can't breathe and it's been years since he threw his parental hang-ups in the trash, but hell if those words don't bring back flashes of his mom screaming at him in a drunken rage. Why is he such a screw up, why does he make her do these things, does he like her yelling —His hand is scrabbling at Jack's arm, panic setting in and making him weak, leaving him to fall back against the passenger door as Jack climbs over him, overbearing, in his face, trapping him— it would have been better if she had an abortion, how could one kid be so worthless, did he enjoy spiting his parents like this, who raised this selfish brat
Ah, Tony. When I ordered the hit on you—
He doesn't know the croon in his ear, but something about it fits in like a lost puzzle piece here. The feeling of not just being unable to breathe, but paralyzed, body going limp and tense, muscles locking up, sets in. His eyes widen and Tony stares up at Jack, face draining of color.]
[ Jesus, he'll need a smoke after this. It's just too good.
And then it isn't. Then he jumps back like he's been burned, hand snatched against his chest like it's going to bite. Whatever just happened-- ]
I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't - I don't know what the hell that was, just - Tony--
[ He's off Tony in an instant, putting as much distance between them as possible without tumbling out of the little car entirely. Tony looks rough, so they're heading right back to his ritzy little dollhouse so they can... he doesn't know. Jack can do a lot with words, but he's hit a button in Tony that never needed to be pushed again, and there's probably no way to fix that. ]
That wasn't me. [ They're still swaying a little - he's still kind of drunk - but Jack takes it much easier than before, face buried in his controls so he doesn't have to look over. ] I didn't do that, it was - it's his fault. C'mon, you know I could never move that fast when I'm drunk. It was him.
[ Maybe he can convince himself of that, anyway. The other Jack did it. The other Jack is the psychopath, not him, he would never. And if he tries really hard, Jack can ignore the fact that he still got one hell of a rush off that reaction. And that he's still enjoying it, on some level. ]
Jesus, just don't die on me. Then you can tell me to fuck off. Just hang on.
[They don't get very far. The moment Tony can resume some semblance of motor function on his own he's shoving open the car door, tumbling out and staggering away. Not that he does much better on his own, stumbling into a trash can and knocking it over, going down with it. There's garbage all over the sidewalk now and he feels sick, so sick.
Jack just tried to kill him —it was just fate you survived that— his hand claws at his chest, tearing the expensive cotton and ripping off buttons to get at the skin beneath, nails digging into flesh. He's going to be sick. No, not going. He is. Hurls once. Twice. Nothing, but alcohol. It burns coming up.
He barely registers what Jack's been saying. Something about a him... Some other guy. He doesn't understand it right now. Maybe he won't even understand it later. All he knows is something is not right and he needs to get away from Jack. Now.
It's kind of the most pathetic attempt at a fleeing crawl, but he does manage to at least get to his hands and knees and barrel roll into an alley.]
[ Jesus, Jack spits under his breath, and now they're making a scene. Much more attention and someone's going to call the cops, and hell if Jack wants to explain why he, drunk, and a friend, even drunker, were driving around the city, or why Tony is on the fritz, or why people watched a terrified man scrabble into an alley pursued by a different one. ]
Will you stop? [ He has to remember that he has no right to get annoyed, hand curling briefly into a tight fist at his side as he rides it out. ] I didn't want to hurt you, Tony. I wasn't gonna hurt you.
[ Feels like he's talking to a cat. Jack even hunches down (away from the vomit, gross) and leans up against the alley wall, grinding dirt and grime into his borrowed clothes. ]
I just wanted to scare you. [ He makes himself sound pathetic, just a little pleading. ] Just wanted you to stop. Gimme a number. Who do I call to pick you up, T? Somebody that can take you home and get you away from me.
[Tony just barely props himself up against some boxes of moldy produce thrown out for collection, wary eyes on Jack. Unfortunately for Jack Tony is no cat. After a pause of silence he croaks out a number. A familiar one.
It's Sofia's. Long defunct and passed on to a new owner with her passing. Jack can fucking chew on that. He knows the things he's done. All of them.]
[ It's impossible not to recognize that number - shit, she wrote it on his hand in gel pen once. Jack's eyes squint, widen with realization, narrow again.
What he wants to do is stroll over there and kick the living hell out of Tony. Like he might have done in the old, old days if they'd ran into each other without Sofia in play. And he just imagines it for a second, eyes shutting. Takes a deep breath in, lets it out in a hard rush. The anger he can handle - has always handled. It's the stark pleasure he gets from punishing people that fucks him up.
What he actually does is simple. Jack sneers for a moment before heading back to the car and retrieving Tony's phone, returning slow and purposeful. Could be a stalk, but it isn't. Jack hurls Tony's phone at him and turns to go. If Tony lets him, that's it; Jack slips around the corner and disappears.
[Tony watches the phone clatter to the ground beside him, cracks spreading over the screen as it makes contact, but doesn't pick it up. Neither does he stop Jack. Instead, once he's alone, he leans back against the boxes behind him and lets his head rest on them, eyes closed. Too many images in his mind. His mom. Jack. An older man he doesn't even know.
His chest hurts in an hell of a lot of ways it shouldn't and he has to keep touching it to make sure there is in fact no horrible wounds in it.
So much for a full schedule. He needs a drink. And more after that one. ...He's not going to forget this. There's really no one he can depend on.
He won't make the mistake of trusting again. Not anyone.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yeah. He really regrets trying to be nice to Jack now. He'd say this is the reason they have a bad relationship, but you know there's other things. This is just kind of the cherry on top of the shit frosting.
But you know what? He's not playing this game. Jack doesn't get to bully him anymore. Not at this stage in his life. Crossing his arms he sits back in his chair and braces himself with his feet, stonefacing it out.]
Hm. That's an idea. But how about we do something else. I think I'm going to call your grandmother. Right now. Sounds like a plan, right?
[He is pulling out his phone. Jack wants to screw around? Here's a game: how rich do you have to be to get anyone you want on speakerphone in twenty seconds or less?]
no subject
And he wants it again. So Tony gets Jack twisting in his seat like a snake, lunging - he means to put himself mostly in Tony's lap, the fingers of his right hand locked around the man's windpipe. ]
Nope. [ He tuts. ] Why do you keep making me hurt you, Tony?
[ They're not Jack's words. They're Jack's words. ]
CW parental abuse ig I should add fuck I'm still bad at this
Tony didn't see this coming at all. And that says something worse. How comfortable he's become with Jack. How much he trusted him. He can't breathe and it's been years since he threw his parental hang-ups in the trash, but hell if those words don't bring back flashes of his mom screaming at him in a drunken rage. Why is he such a screw up, why does he make her do these things, does he like her yelling —His hand is scrabbling at Jack's arm, panic setting in and making him weak, leaving him to fall back against the passenger door as Jack climbs over him, overbearing, in his face, trapping him— it would have been better if she had an abortion, how could one kid be so worthless, did he enjoy spiting his parents like this, who raised this selfish brat
He doesn't know the croon in his ear, but something about it fits in like a lost puzzle piece here. The feeling of not just being unable to breathe, but paralyzed, body going limp and tense, muscles locking up, sets in. His eyes widen and Tony stares up at Jack, face draining of color.]
no subject
And then it isn't. Then he jumps back like he's been burned, hand snatched against his chest like it's going to bite. Whatever just happened-- ]
I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't - I don't know what the hell that was, just - Tony--
[ He's off Tony in an instant, putting as much distance between them as possible without tumbling out of the little car entirely. Tony looks rough, so they're heading right back to his ritzy little dollhouse so they can... he doesn't know. Jack can do a lot with words, but he's hit a button in Tony that never needed to be pushed again, and there's probably no way to fix that. ]
That wasn't me. [ They're still swaying a little - he's still kind of drunk - but Jack takes it much easier than before, face buried in his controls so he doesn't have to look over. ] I didn't do that, it was - it's his fault. C'mon, you know I could never move that fast when I'm drunk. It was him.
[ Maybe he can convince himself of that, anyway. The other Jack did it. The other Jack is the psychopath, not him, he would never. And if he tries really hard, Jack can ignore the fact that he still got one hell of a rush off that reaction. And that he's still enjoying it, on some level. ]
Jesus, just don't die on me. Then you can tell me to fuck off. Just hang on.
no subject
Jack just tried to kill him —it was just fate you survived that— his hand claws at his chest, tearing the expensive cotton and ripping off buttons to get at the skin beneath, nails digging into flesh. He's going to be sick. No, not going. He is. Hurls once. Twice. Nothing, but alcohol. It burns coming up.
He barely registers what Jack's been saying. Something about a him... Some other guy. He doesn't understand it right now. Maybe he won't even understand it later. All he knows is something is not right and he needs to get away from Jack. Now.
It's kind of the most pathetic attempt at a fleeing crawl, but he does manage to at least get to his hands and knees and barrel roll into an alley.]
no subject
Will you stop? [ He has to remember that he has no right to get annoyed, hand curling briefly into a tight fist at his side as he rides it out. ] I didn't want to hurt you, Tony. I wasn't gonna hurt you.
[ Feels like he's talking to a cat. Jack even hunches down (away from the vomit, gross) and leans up against the alley wall, grinding dirt and grime into his borrowed clothes. ]
I just wanted to scare you. [ He makes himself sound pathetic, just a little pleading. ] Just wanted you to stop. Gimme a number. Who do I call to pick you up, T? Somebody that can take you home and get you away from me.
no subject
It's Sofia's. Long defunct and passed on to a new owner with her passing. Jack can fucking chew on that. He knows the things he's done. All of them.]
no subject
What he wants to do is stroll over there and kick the living hell out of Tony. Like he might have done in the old, old days if they'd ran into each other without Sofia in play. And he just imagines it for a second, eyes shutting. Takes a deep breath in, lets it out in a hard rush. The anger he can handle - has always handled. It's the stark pleasure he gets from punishing people that fucks him up.
What he actually does is simple. Jack sneers for a moment before heading back to the car and retrieving Tony's phone, returning slow and purposeful. Could be a stalk, but it isn't. Jack hurls Tony's phone at him and turns to go. If Tony lets him, that's it; Jack slips around the corner and disappears.
Fuck it. He'll walk. ]
no subject
His chest hurts in an hell of a lot of ways it shouldn't and he has to keep touching it to make sure there is in fact no horrible wounds in it.
So much for a full schedule. He needs a drink. And more after that one. ...He's not going to forget this. There's really no one he can depend on.
He won't make the mistake of trusting again. Not anyone.]