how to succeed in business while really trying

Jack stares into the bathroom mirror, rubbing lavender scented moisturizer into his face with quick, circular, motions. He spends extra time along the edges of the scar emblazoned across his face, though the scar itself is a lost cause. The skin along the edges is rough and raised, the vault symbol itself burned deep into his flesh and solidified into a metallic silver crust. It's not skin anymore; part of why it can't be repaired. His face belongs in a fucking museum- as far as his doctors can tell, nothing else like it exists.

Rhys is still in his bed, presumably. The front door won't unlock without his biometrics. It's the first time Rhys has been in his bed, though not the first time they've had sex. Usually it's in an office, either Rhys's or his own. Usually it's quick, informal. But, eating a home cooked meal alone under a enormous elaborate chandelier at an enormous expensive dinner table was feeling particularly pathetic now that the adrenaline rush of having a real flesh and blood body again was beginning to grow old. He'd bet Rhys's life on the assumption that Rhys hadn't eaten anything in days that hadn't come out of an Atlas vending machine. So, he called him up. One thing led to another.

And now he has a decision to make; leave the mask off, or put it back on. It's really not much of a decision. Sleeping with it on would be worse. Discomfort aside, refusing to be seen with it off in his own turbomansion would only highlight the fact that he's insecure. It's better to own it. He never wore the mask in the evenings with Nisha. But, Nisha was there. Nisha knew what had happened and knew to never say a word about it. Rhys is different.

When he enters the bedroom, he has only a plush, dark grey, towel around his waist. His hair is only wet around the edges; he didn't wash it, but he wasn't able to fully avoid it while washing his face in the shower. 

He's rewarded by Rhys scooting closer, nuzzling into his shoulder. Rhys gives him a quick kiss and he can't help but to smile. It's not much but, coming from Rhys, it counts. He's usually so hesitant to make any moves; like he thinks he's going to do something wrong and piss Jack off. But, things have been better lately. He's been flinching a little less, at least. And now he's in Jack's bed, in Jack's t-shirt, coaxing him into talking about his feelings in a way he hasn't done in decades.

It was all so unfamiliar. The last time he was in someone else's bed, it was in her dorm room. He'd stopped dating much soon after he joined Hyperion, too focused on getting ahead. Had he ever had a real, grown up relationship? If that was even what this was. He wasn't Jack's boyfriend, but he was something, something much more serious than a college hookup.

He was honestly kind of excited. Scared, yes, absolutely. But this whole thing had hope blooming in his chest despite his better judgement. He may have felt just like this that night on the roof of the caravan when Jack asked him to trust him, but things could be different this time. Maybe it wasn't stupid to believe in Jack.

Rhys realized he was wiggling against Jack's side and started to pull away, self-conscious. He did that when he was really relaxed--Vaughn had pointed it out once in high school and Rhys been trying desperately to keep it under control ever since. Before that, he never even noticed he was doing it. It made him worry every time he caught himself. What other weird stuff was he doing that he didn't notice?

Apparently Rhys had reached that level of rich and famous that he couldn't walk around Promethea on his own anymore. Good to know. Lesson learned the second the knife went between his ribs. He wouldn't leave Atlas HQ without a bodyguard again.

He was lucky the mugger didn't try to take his cybernetics somehow. They were worth more than anything else on him. The mugger hadn't even really talked to Rhys--Rhys didn't even know they were there until he felt pain. He thought someone had punched him. Then he felt the blood.

The mugger dragged him into an alleyway. Rhys tried to fight back, but his limbs quickly stopped responding and he went limp. He was collapsed on the ground as the mugger dug through his pockets and then bolted away. Rhys tried to press on the wound, but he couldn't get much strength behind it. Blood gushed out between his fingers and all over his expensive suit.

Dull, throbbing pain radiated through Rhys's body. Every breath made it worse. He was going to die if someone didn't save him. There was only one person who could save Rhys from anything.

He did the only thing he could do. He pulled up his ECHO-eye menu. His vision was swimming so much it was difficult to select the most recent contact. Jack.

From the fast travel station, they reach the entryway of his turbomansion in seconds. By then, he's temporarily moved on from the feelings of emotional discomfort to feelings of physical discomfort. The blood on his hands and clothes is starting to dry; it's getting flaky and weird in a way that's actually worse than its previous sliminess. He's about to ask Rhys if he wants to shower with him- then he catches himself. 

This near death experience has his head totally shaken up. This is his turbomansion and his sort of, kind of, not technically boyfriend. He's not gonna ask him if he wants to rinse the several liters of blood off his body before he slips between Jack's thousand dollar sheets.

He takes a detour and carries Rhys past the bedroom. Though there's an attached bathroom, the one down the hall is bigger. Besides, with the size of this place, he could use a different shower every night and never run out of bathrooms; might as well get his money's worth. 

When they reach the bathroom, he gently sets Rhys on the countertop and stretches his arms above his head. He seriously needs to get back on his workout routine- he's gonna feel all the carrying Rhys around tomorrow.

It was a little embarrassing to be carried around like this now that he wasn't dying, so h was glad there was no one around to see. Fiona wouldn't have let him live it down. But we aren't thinking of Fiona right now, he reminded himself firmly. Rhys just got stabbed. If there was one time it was understandable for Rhys to get swept away by Jack, it would be now.

By the time they're in the bathroom, Rhys has managed to get himself self-conscious anyway. It's a relief when Jack sets him down. He nods a little too much at Jack's question, eager to prove himself okay.

"I'm fine. I can handle a shower."

He tries to stand up to prove it and, instead, instantly stumbles when his head rushes. He's still holding onto the counter, but Jack catches him instantly. Rhys turns his body away, flustered.

"Still alive. Shit."

Selective + Private RP blog for Arthur Hastings from We Happy Few

Crossover and OC friendly!

Could anyone blame Rhys for being nervous? He was cornered by Troy Calypso. His enemy, after all. Even if he and his sister weren't partnered with Maliwan, they were spreading bandits and chaos throughout the galaxy. Exactly the kind of thing Jack had been trying to fix, come to think of it.

He thought about calling Jack. It was better to hold off until he really needed it, though. If he came to Jack with every little problem a lot more people would die.

Actually, he should probably call Zer0. Like, now. Or at least let the Calypso know he could.

"I'm not from Pandora. Ew. Like, we live there now, but it's temporary. Not the point. Katagawa thinks we're friends or something. I don't know. I know things about him that I wish I didn't."

Katagawa Jr. is definitely the worst of the business guys they've dealt with, though. There's a reason Tyreen always pawns Jr. off on him; it's not just the fact that Troy has a skill for persuading him.

"Have you noticed your clothes going missing? Because they have been. He keeps a stack of 'em under his bed. Makes people wear them. Not, like, me-" he's very quick to make mention of his own innocence.

He put his face in his hands. "Holy crap, I am going to end up in his basement."

He sort of felt like he was going to have a panic attack. That would be really undignified in front of one of the enemy leaders, but if Katagawa actually was stealing his clothes, he actually was doing a whole lot else. It was suspicious how Katagawa knew so much about him. Rhys knew why, he just really wanted to hope Katagawa wasn't stalking him quite as much as he thought.

Apparently Rhys had reached that level of rich and famous that he couldn't walk around Promethea on his own anymore. Good to know. Lesson learned the second the knife went between his ribs. He wouldn't leave Atlas HQ without a bodyguard again.

He was lucky the mugger didn't try to take his cybernetics somehow. They were worth more than anything else on him. The mugger hadn't even really talked to Rhys--Rhys didn't even know they were there until he felt pain. He thought someone had punched him. Then he felt the blood.

The mugger dragged him into an alleyway. Rhys tried to fight back, but his limbs quickly stopped responding and he went limp. He was collapsed on the ground as the mugger dug through his pockets and then bolted away. Rhys tried to press on the wound, but he couldn't get much strength behind it. Blood gushed out between his fingers and all over his expensive suit.

Dull, throbbing pain radiated through Rhys's body. Every breath made it worse. He was going to die if someone didn't save him. There was only one person who could save Rhys from anything.

He did the only thing he could do. He pulled up his ECHO-eye menu. His vision was swimming so much it was difficult to select the most recent contact. Jack.

"I mean it. Quit second-guessing yourself. You're incredible. You've always been incredible. And you're one of, like, three people that I've ever let ugly sob on me, so congrats."

He's not going to argue. He accepted his fate and held onto Jack's strong shoulders. This was definitely a dream or something. Maybe a hallucination from blood loss. This was the kind of fantasy Rhys usually didn't even let himself think about.

"Thanks for saving me," he said. "I was really scared, but you came through. You're... consistent." More consistent than anything else in Rhys's life. Ever since he came back, Jack had been a steady, constant presence. It was weird, but the part that scared him was how much it reminded him of their time on Pandora. He wished he could let himself trust Jack again without thinking of the way it felt laying there, arm hole bleeding, the glass shard in his hand.

It was easier than it should have been. He certainly hadn't been thinking of all the people Jack had killed when Rhys was laying in that alley in need of someone to save him. And Jack had done literally everything right tonight. He might have even said...

Could anyone blame Rhys for being nervous? He was cornered by Troy Calypso. His enemy, after all. Even if he and his sister weren't partnered with Maliwan, they were spreading bandits and chaos throughout the galaxy. Exactly the kind of thing Jack had been trying to fix, come to think of it.

He thought about calling Jack. It was better to hold off until he really needed it, though. If he came to Jack with every little problem a lot more people would die.

Actually, he should probably call Zer0. Like, now. Or at least let the Calypso know he could.

"You can't turn it off? You paid good money for a whole ass eye and there's no way to turn it off? What the hell do you do if it needs maintenance?"

"Look, I know, alright? If I could turn it off, I would've, but I got it in my twenties when I was Hyperion's biggest fanboy and now I'm stuck with it. Okay? Can we move on?"

When Troy did get to the point, Rhys kind of regretted it. Katagawa. "What is this, like, genuine concern for me? I know he's crazy, but to get you to care..."

He couldn't be that crazy, right? Like, this was mostly about Atlas. And not Rhys personally. Even though it definitely kind of felt like it was all about Rhys personally.

Fiona had a job to do in this swampy hell. Rhys had recently been stabbed in what looked like a random mugging and turned out to be corporate espionage. Rhys was fine, but once he figured out the Valdof corporation was behind the attack, he needed to do something about it. Luckily for him, he had a Vault Hunter he trusted right there.

He'd managed to figure out person who ordered the hit had fled and gone into hiding on Eden-6. Fiona doubted anyone at Vladof was that afraid of Atlas--the hiding probably had more to do with Rhys's weird relationship with Handsome Jack than anything else. Rhys didn't have the resources to spare to go after the Vladof employee, Borkov, himself. He had to pay Fiona to do it.

She wasn't really sure what Rhys expected her to do once she found Borkov. He hadn't been that specific. She figured she would use her best judgement; Rhys would probably be happy however she got it done as long as Borkov was out of the way.

Fiona had never been to Eden-6 before, so it wasn't on her fast travel network. Rhys had provided a transport ship set to land in a remote part of the jungle. Eden-6 was Jakobs territory and Rhys preferred Atlas's presence was kept as quiet as possible. She was to get in, take care of Borkov, and get out.

The Atlas ship was tiny. Fiona felt cramped already as she sat down inside. At least it was pristinely clean. Fiona was not looking forward to the swamp. She also made Rhys buy her as fashionable a waterproof outfit as possible. She adjusted the hat in her reflection in the window.

"Hey, uh, is someone supposed to be coming with you?" The Atlas pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. He was like five feet away from her. He could have easily just spoken regularly. Fiona flinched at how loud it was. "I thought Rhys said it was just you."

"Uh, yeah, it is supposed to be just me," said Fiona. "What do you mean?"

"I mean someone else is coming up the boarding stairs. Should I wait for him?"

"What? No. Unless it's Rhys, I guess."

Fiona stood up, intending to look out the other window and make sure, just as the transport ship's doors opened again. Fiona looked away to glare at the pilot. "I told you not to--"

"I'm not stupid enough to tell him no," said the pilot defensively. "If you wanna try, be my guest."

But he sort of had a point about Rhys's starry-eyed faith in his friends. He'd been the guy who thought he and Vaughn could take Pandora alone. And she'd been the guy who'd drawn them down in the first place by trying to con Hyperion.

She flicked her hair. "Okay, fine," she relented. "Maybe you're a little more useful than I initially thought. Rhys claims you did save us on Pandora. But he also claims you tried to kill him twice, which I haven't forgotten about, even if he has."

She also hadn't forgotten about what Jack did to Pandora. He was the face of pure corporate evil. It made her skin crawl to share the same air as him, let alone work together with him.

Rhys had butterflies as he got into the elevator. His hands were shaking as he adjusted his clothes and smoothed back his hair for the twentieth time since he'd gotten the call. He couldn't help it. He was on his way to Handsome Jack's office.

Rhys had no idea why Jack wanted to see him. He'd started worrying he was in trouble the second Jack's secretary called him, so much so that he'd spaced out like an idiot and hadn't said anything until the secretary hung up. It had to do with Project ECHO, definitely. The only time Jack would ever have been made aware of Rhys's existence was when he visited the lab yesterday.

He hadn't said anything to him, but Rhys been sort of aware that Jack was paying attention to him. When Rhys could focus over the cacaphony of his own thoughts, which wasn't always, he could pick up on a lot. Jack had been looking at him--intensely, it felt like--but Rhys had convinced himself he was imagining things. Apparently not.

He couldn't help but be concerned. Had he made a bad impression somehow? Or--was it good news? Had Jack been impressed? Had someone finally noticed Rhys's diligent contribution to the company, his loyalty, all his hard work? Rhys didn't know how to feel. All his different thoughts talking over themselves made him dizzy and he leaned against the wall, hand over his mouth, trying to fight down the nausea rising in the back of his throat. The space felt like it was closing in around him. Someone was going to notice and he was going to get fired. Jack had noticed. That was what all this was about. He'd seen inside Rhys to the part that was broken and he knew Rhys didn't belong at his company.

The elevator dinged and scattered Rhys's thoughts, giving him a brief moment of relief. He hurried out of the elevator and tried not to stare too obviously at the decor of the executive suite. Jack had spared no expense. It was impressive. Probably as intended.

As Rhys came up to the secretary, all the little details about her registered rapid-fire, the way it did whenever he looked at someone. It went something like this: Working at a desk--secretary--long brown hair glasses red lips cashmere sweater typing fast short neat nails ring finger is longer than pointer finger weird oh she's looking at me better talk. It all happened in a second, and none of it was ever useful, just a barrage of pointless observations about everything he happened to notice. It gave him headaches. Rhys tried to act natural as he came up to her desk, but he was pretty overwhelmed and it was even harder to deal with his thoughts than usual.

"Um, I'm... Hi. I'm Rhys," he said. "Rhys Strongfork? You called me up... h-here?"

For a long second Rhys convinced himself it was all a prank and she was was about to mock him mercilessly for thinking he'd ever be worth the time of Handsome Jack himself--but then she nodded and picked up the phone. "Jack, the programmer you wanted is here. Should I send him in?"

Another long second during the space of which Rhys had a thousand worried thoughts, but Jack must have said yes, because she didn't kick Rhys out. Instead, she sent him in. Rhys swallowed as he opened the door to Jack's office, worrying about a million things, including how his hand might be sweating and then he'd be the guy who made Handsome Jack's doorknob sweaty--and then the door was open and he was stepping inside. It was real.

Jack's office was hugely impressive, in that it was huge, and it was impressive. It had its own water feature. Statues of Jack glared down at Rhys as he traversed the vast distance between the door and Jack's desk.

Rhys was scared to look at him. He kept his gaze down as he stopped in front of Handsome Jack himself. He still noticed a thousand things even when he was trying not to--the things on the desk, Jack's big hands, how amazing it smelled in here, Jack's big hand maybe touching Rhys--and no, no, no! He couldn't be thinking this kind of thing in front of Jack himself! He had to focus before he got fired!

Jack had been able to read people's minds ever since he was young. At first, it was uncontrollable; everyone's thoughts all at once, overwhelming, loud. But, it's been under control for decades. He learned how to tune it out long ago, to only hear what he's trying to hear, to carefully choose when to listen in so that it's not a constant barrage.

But, Rhys- Rhys is something he's never encountered before. What the hell kind of superpower is anxiety? Whatever is happening with his brain processes, though, is clearly more extreme than just basic anxiety. He has a power, just like Jack does, though Jack doesn't have all the details of it yet. He doesn't know how it's going to be useful to him- he just knows that Rhys is special, and he'd rather have a follow mutant batting for his team than any of his competitors. 

He needs more answers. So, he arranged a one on one meeting. He asks that Rhys be sent in once the secretary alerts him of his presence. He can hear Rhys before he even makes it in the door, suddenly drowning him in worries about sweaty hands and overwhelming admiration at the office, the decor, Jack's hands, Jack's hands on his delicate shoulders, moving up to his throat, wrapping fingers around it, pressing against it, leaving him gasping- Okay, at some point his own thoughts got jumbled up in there. But, Rhys was definitely looking at his hands. The strangulation rabbit hole he went down was not unprompted.

When Rhys speaks, he has to bite back a 'yeah, it's about your sweaty hands on my doorknob. I noticed. It's a fireable offense.' It's just too easy. Plus, probably not a good first impression if the goal is to gain Rhys's trust. God, it would be hilarious, though. 

Instead, he takes advantage of Rhys's thoughts in a less immediately counterproductive way, keeping his own 'big hands' on the desk, making sure they're visible. In fact… just for good measure, he yanks the sleeve of his left arm down from where it had previously been rolled up, as though he wasn't satisfied with the way it was bunched up, then makes a show of slowly pushing his sleeve back up to his elbow where it belongs, drawing attention to big hands and strong forearms.

You caught my eye yesterday, kid.

And Rhys's thoughts are off to the races. Jack noticed him? Jack noticed him? Rhys knew this Project ECHO thing was a good idea. Vaughn had been worried about it but Rhys had known, he'd get cool tech out of it no one else had and a leg up on the competition, the leg up he needed to get ahead of everyone else in the pack, including that asshole Vasquez, who would never be brave enough to show his dedication to the company with his body--

Rhys thinks all this in a single moment, but it still takes him a beat too long to react to Jack's order. He scrambles to sit down and worries about how to sit, if he should cross his legs, if he should try to be alpha male and manspread, and starts running out of time to decide and ends up sitting very still in the middle of the chair, knees together, taking up as little space as possible.

He feels like a schoolboy in trouble at the principal's office, and it wasn't fair. He was born to be here. This was what he'd been waiting for! All his hard work had been for this exact moment. For Handsome Jack to notice him. Now it was finally happening, and he was going to blow it because he was some mutie freak who couldn't act normal for two seconds. Say something, idiot! It's your turn to speak!

"It's not training wheels," Rhys protested, "It's a sophisticated homing grenade technology that allows you to shoot around corners, or from--wait, boss baby? "

He stopped himself just in time before protesting he wasn't a baby. That would only make him sound even more babyish. He took a deep breath and ended up coughing a little from Swift's cigarette smoke.

It's proving deliciously easy to get a rise out of Rhys. The detective is more than a little bemused -- that the suit has more than two emotions to rub together & that they play so readily across his face.

He decides to encourage the attempt at bantering back.

"As opposed to . . . WHAT ? " Eyebrows raise to points as his gaze crawls up & down the other man. "A STOCK PHOTO ? "

People are strange

When you're a stranger

Faces look wicked

When you're alone

A low-activity, selective RP blog for a fandomless OC.

A low-activity, private, selective RP blog for a fandomless OC.