one must imagine sisyphus happy

i hesitate to set this in stone bc i hate making decisions but consider this a soft launch lol

any asks i have recently sent are still 100% on the table tho!!

"Belvidere." He's not familiar with the area, but he taps the name into his car's navigation, and lets out a disgruntled sound at the result: 8 hours, 12 minutes. He zooms in closer to the destination, notes something particular on the map, and sets his own phone on speaker as he uses the location sent to check the exact distance from the airport. Then, he books a one way ticket to Chicago.

Jack sets his phone down, and starts his car.

"I can get to you in about three and a half hours." He says. "But I need to be on a plane for two of those hours." Jack pulls out of the parking lot, and drives faster than what is legally permitted toward the airport.

"Don't apologize. I could use a vacation. What d'ya think? Make a stop at the Bean on the way home?"

Jack doesn't press him for actual responses. He just talks, and talks, filling the silence of his 20-something minute drive to the airport.

"And Shen spilled his coffee all over the floor within ten minutes of shift starting. I thought he was about to start crying. Ellis felt bad enough that she ordered him a new one."

It's only when he pulls his car into the weekly parking lot at the airport that he goes quiet, grabbing his backpack, pulling several knives, scalpels, and other not-safe-for-plane items from the pockets. Eventually, he takes his phone off speaker, and presses it to his ear once more.

"No, Jack," he croaks, "don't do that. You don't have to do that. Please." Guilt sands against his ribs. Why couldn't he just go through with it? But Jack pulls him back. A laugh bubbles out of him– just about the last thing he thought could happen tonight. "Yeah," he huffs, "let's." In a vacuum, it's a nice idea. The two of them kicking around a couple of landmarks in another city. But if he thinks too long about actually doing it– doing it now– something frightening balloons behind his ribs.

Robby does his best to listen to the familiar rasp that trickles through the phone. The words come, they process, but they're gone like smoke. He knows that he should be responding. He knows, too, that Jack knows he can't.

Now and then, he manages a grunt in response, a little huff of air. But then his eyes start to slide out of focus and everything grows... distant. Still, somewhere he is glad that Ellis bought Shen a new coffee. He tunes back in when the noise of the road fades and Jack asks after him again.