And teach me how to name the bigger light (for eliot)

[jackrackham]

It's been days since they've arrived in this place and Jack is beginning to give up hope that whatever brought them here will deliver them back from whence they'd been taken. Up til now, he hadn't wanted to venture far from Anne in case of just that possibility, but he can't stay locked away in their strange little rooms forever.

He has his own assigned lodging to investigate, so once he's out of the street, he heads in that direction. He takes his time. It's still fucking cold out, but it's hard not to take time when there are so many things that are entirely incomprehensible to him. The occasional honk from a car passing by never fails to make him flinch, and the strange lights and sounds are a constant unnerving baseline. It doesn't help that further, he doesn't fit in at all. His coat and hat and weapons make people look in his direction, but nobody stops and asks if he's new, if he's one of these visitors from another world, if he needs any assistance. He can see in their faces people willing away his strangeness, and he hates it.

At the first intersection, he pauses and takes note of the other pedestrians, how they push the button and wait to cross the street. He pauses with them and turns to his left, squinting at a strange humming coming from a large metal cabinet standing on the pavement. The crowd moves, and he moves with it.

At the next intersection, the crowd moves on, and he stays, staring at the humming metal box. Another one, here. He lifts a hand up and cautiously touches the surface. Smooth, cool, no movement that he can detect. He drops his hand, and examines the small lock holding together the doors. It's nothing major, more of a deterrent than an actual safety measure. No doubt easily broken.

He looks to his left and right. There are people on this side of the street, but none that are actively watching him at the moment. He slides his dagger out of his belt, scabbard and all, and turns it around in his hand. It takes three strikes with the pommel before the little lock falls open. He pulls it off and goes to open the cabinet. A second glance down the street and he spots someone crossing to the other side to avoid him. Just as well, he doesn't want to talk to them, either.

He's expecting that inside there will be a clue, a hint to understanding something about this place. What he finds is a jumble of rubber wires and panels and instrumentation that he doesn't understand and couldn't begin to if he tried. It looks horrific, like if the bones and sinews of this place had fused into a strange humming node.

He tucks his dagger back into his belt and raises a hand to rub at the side of his face. "...Huh."

Comments

[eliotwaugh]

"Ah." Eliot can't help feeling a little disappointed at the Jack's answer, and he knows he looks it. Fortunately Jack is too distracted by the information in the brochures to look up, and by the time he's managed to wrangle both the papers and his hat (looking adorably overexcited), Eliot schools his expression into something neutral.

"Yes, that's what you'd need the card for," he explains, looking over the text that Jack's indicated. "I know it's all rather ghoulish, having that just show up with your image, but I'm afraid if's fairly essential to modern life. Of course in normal places you know, you go to a city office and have it made but I suppose Darrow can't do things without being dramatic." He rolls his eyes, thinking of his own picture. He'd get it out to show Jack, but honestly being here in a modern world again makes the kingly garb feel a little costumey and embarrassing.

And pirates aren't traditionally friends with royalty, he supposes. There's that.

"Anyway it's a basic proof of residence and identity, and if you bring it back in to the library you can register for a free membership card and they'll lend you books and things for...two weeks? Maybe longer if you ask for a renewal on the loan period. There's usually a small fee to pay if you return them late but it's nothing too dire." Eliot sighs, and looks around the space. "Without that you can still come in and read here, of course, but there's...not much else to be done."

[jackrackham]

"I have to bring the card to get a different card." he says, clarifying more for himself than really asking Eliot. It seems silly and strange, but people do seem to use different plastic cards for all sorts of things here.

Jack looks wistfully over at the library for a moment, considering just staying here and reading. He and Anne had agreed that they'd be back by sundown and it's far from that, but he knows that she'll be wondering where he is by now. His plan had been to go check on the other apartment they'd been given and he's taken much longer than that errand required.

"That's alright. I'll come back later. I should get going anyway, I want to tell Anne about all of this. Though I'm not sure she'll believe the magic until she sees it herself." He flashes a grin at Eliot, then looks down to tuck the brochures into the inside pocket of his coat. That done, he reaches a hand forward, offering Eliot a handshake. He's not entirely sure why he does it. This situation doesn't really require any sort of formal goodbye, but it seems lacking to leave without it. "Thank you for all of your help today. And the conversation."

[eliotwaugh]

He shrugs. It's been easy enough to readjust to modern technology and a life broken down into several essential pieces to carry around, but Eliot spent enough years in Fillory that he knows the irritation evident in Jack's voice. It's different here, being a part of a multitude and requiring more identification than just one's word.

Jack explains his plans for the day, his partner he needs to get back to. Eliot feels a little extraneous, like he could just go into work late after all. But he'd be distracted, worried maybe. He wishes there was more he could do. At the very least he can leave the offer open.

"Anytime," Eliot says, and he means it. Jack isn't quite the lost duckling Quentin was, wandering up the Brakebills lawn without a sense of self, but Eliot's feeling is similar enough: the man could use a friend. He takes Jack's hand, smiling. He really does have lovely hands, all cool skin and bony, delicate fingers. Eliot clears his throat. "I should give you my contact information, in case there's anything you need or...just to chat? I know there's a lot to adjust to, but something tells me you'll be all right." As soon as he says it, it feels far too earnest for someone he's just met, and Eliot nods in what he hopes is a masculine way and punctuates the handshake by clapping Jack on the shoulder.

[jackrackham]

"I'm sure I will." Jack's about to nod in response when Eliot claps him on the shoulder. Instead, he cringes at the sudden spike of pain over his freshly stitched wound.

"Ah-" He lets go of Eliot's hand and gestures to his right shoulder. "I was in a vanguard, one of the men got a hit in with his saber before I killed him. It's alright. Still fresh, but it's been stitched up." He touches his shoulder briefly, testing it for himself before remembering what Eliot had just said.

"Did you mean the phone?" Jack takes a moment and pulls the obtuse thing out of his pocket. He'd only brought it along with him today on the very slim chance that Anne might want to use it to contact him. He turns it over in his hand and wakes the light behind the panel, then frowns at it. "I'm afraid learning how this works hasn't been a priority, but now that I have access to a library I imagine it will be quick work." That's very optimistic, but he doesn't want to look stupid in front of Eliot with a thing that seems so simple to everyone here.

He stares at the screen a moment before he can remember which odd sigil Greta had pressed before adding in her contact information. He presses that and brings up a list that includes her, Anne, and himself, and then offers the phone to Eliot. "You can put that information in here. Ah...mine is there, as well."

[eliotwaugh]

He draws back, startled when Jack winces, and immediately starts to apologize.
"Shit, I'm--" but he cannot finish his thought, boggled as he is by trying to reconcile the image of this man, who's shown himself to be curious and intellectual, with the idea of recent deadly combat. Eliot wants to ask but by the time he thinks to Jack's moved on, fumbling with his phone.

"It's...not that intuitive," Eliot says as he takes the device, unable to really speak quickly while he's trying to remember his own number to add to Jack's contacts. "Unless you've got the knowledge base of uh, older communications technology. Hold on." He pulls out his own phone to check his work and add Jack's number. "I know people here seem like they're born phone-in-hand, but, well. In my case for example it's been a few years since I've even had one, magic and electronics don't really mix that easily where I came from."

He shrugs, completes the entry, and gives Jack back his phone with an apologetic grimace. "I'm so sorry about that," Eliot says, looking at his shoulder. He wonders what kind of medical intervention Jack would have had access to, but it can't have been great. He almost wants to suggest they go to the hospital or a clinic to get it looked at, but the atomic half-life of this conversation is inexorably fizzling out and to linger would just make him feel a bit pathetic. "I should...let you go, but I'm glad to have been of some help. I hope you have a good rest of your day."

When Eliot turns to leave he feels more awkward than he has in literal years. But, he supposes, it always could have gone worse.

[jackrackham]

Jack slips his phone back into his coat pocket and nods to Eliot. He almost wants to ask about Eliot saying that it's been a few years since he had a phone. That doesn't seem to fit with the rest of what Eliot had told him about his world. Maybe it's not worth it to ask, and he's already taken up enough of Eliot's time, anyway.

"You too." Jack nods at him and turns to go.

He's two steps outside when the cold hits him and he instinctively reaches up to tighten the scarf around his neck. His hands stall and he quickly turns back around. He'd forgotten that he was still wearing Eliot's scarf.

He pulls the large door open again and nearly walks into Eliot on his way out. "Oh, Eliot-" He chuckles, taking a step back out of Eliot's personal space and pulling the scarf from around his neck. "Your scarf- It was much appreciated."

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot pulls up short when Jack nearly collides with him, too close and too sudden and he feels a little alarmed before he understands what Jack's saying.

"Ah-" he stammers, absently touching his own neck. "No it's--it's fine." It's not that he'd forgotten about the scarf, but he'd just assumed that the loan was going to last longer than an afternoon. New arrival, unprepared for the cold. It might have been an expensive accessory but it's not as if Eliot doesn't have others at his disposal.

He puts a hand up to stop Jack, and offers him an appeasing smile. "You can just borrow it for a while, I really don't mind."

[jackrackham]

The offer is unexpected, but kind. His hands stall when Eliot puts up his, and he smiles in surprise at the offer. He'd expected that Eliot would want the scarf back, not only to warm himself, but because he doesn't trust that he'll actually see Jack again.

"Alright." He studies Eliot for a second, not entirely sure that he should trust what seems like kindness for no reason, then nods. When he says "Thank you," it's genuine, but his brow is furrowed, trying to fit unfamiliar pieces together.

"Til later, then." He nods to Eliot one last time, then heads back out into the cold. Eliot has given him so much that he wants to tell Anne, and so much to do now that he has an entire library at his disposal. For the first time since they arrived he feels like he has a direction, and it feels good.