archived.

@carvesin | sc.

     He gets bureaucracy. He absolutely despises it, but he gets it — and with it the silver tongued bullshit that comes with it. While it’s fun to engage in it sometimes, it tires him out quickly; but this isn’t his home where he gets to demand and pull his own head through. (A shame, really, and he’ll absolutely work on it, because his patience only runs so far.)

     Talking to John is like that. Intriguing, in a way, but also utterly tiring and wearing out his patience for bullshit. There’s only so much ego that can fit into a single room, and with the both of them, it’s stuffed.

           "Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there — can you do me a favor, pumpkin, and shut your pretty mouth for like, two seconds? Before the last string in my head starts aching out of sympathy with the ones you already murdered?“

          maybe he has a thing for tirades. passionate, vibrant, religious monologues that drag towards too long, too intense. it comes with the territory, comes with the role. it’s the only marginally healthy release of pent-up everything he can free himself with. john stops short like a car at the edge of a cliff; all of the surprise, all of the anger. he has to bite down on his tongue-- literal, the faintest taste of copper blooming against his tongue-- to bite down on his anger. ( do you want to join them? ) john inhales, exhales, tampers down his rage, and gestures openly towards jack. that friendly smile of his doesn’t quite reach his eyes.