#steakandrobots

Jack grunts in agreement, head laying heavy on the table as he nurses one hell of a hangover. He’s ordered everyone else out of the lunchroom where they’d woken up from their drunken stupor, and it’s now blissfully quiet other than the low hum of various Hyperion machinery– he’s more than grateful for the silence. 

    “Technically– this is all your fault.”He cradles his head–(and where the hell had his pants gone, anyway?)–, whining long and low-pitched in his throat. He doesn’t get up from his slumped position; he doesn’t think he could even if he tried.

     “If it wasn’t for you and your stupid lemons, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” His tone is full of bitterness as he swings a leg under the table in an effort to kick the enforcer sitting across from him. He gives up as soon as he realizes what a waste of energy it is. The other man’s already in just as a sorry state as he is, anyway.

Jack purses his lips, pressing them to his almost-empty glass.     “Great beard. Uhh–” He squeezes one eye shut, trying to think. “I like him. he doesn’t ask questions, and he gets the job done.“

Feed my muse terrible lies and try to convince them it’s true. Confuse and torment them.

Tim just laughs. 

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DARE MEME ( 1/?? ) __ //A faint ‘huh’ escapes him, as Jack reviews the list of dares that has been circulating Helios.

“ — so, I rolled a ONE,” he quips, mostly to himself, and squints at the document for a good long while, until he gives in and flips his glasses down over his face. Ain’t doing him much good in his hair like that. “And, that means. I have to swap clothes with — you?” Eyes flick up from the document, narrowing as he takes in the cut and the make of Wilhem’s current outfit. Very slowly, a scowl creeps across his face. There is absolutely no way he’s switching clothes with the enforcer, because there’s absolutely no way that Jack can see Wilhelm fitting into anything he’s wearing at the moment.

“ — jacket,” he demands, sudden and sharp, holding his hand out like he expects Wil to strip right there and then. Right in the hall. ( wait, he does expect that of him why else would he be making grabby hands to illustrate his commitment to this dare?? ) In the meanwhile, he shirks off his own jacket and holds it out at arm’s length. Srs face. Srs srs face, because nobody is going to look twice at their damn boss and know him for a QUITTER. “We’ll wear ‘em ‘till the end of the day, okay?”

Eat a lemon without flinching.

Jack stares at the offending fruit on his desk with a scowl. He wasn’t too big on fruit in the first place, but this— this was just madness.      “Where did you even—? You know what, nevermind.”

He rolls it towards himself and picks it up, flicking out his favorite knife to cut away a chunk of the yellow skin. His favorite color too, how ironic. The acid in the air hits him before he can even get it to his mouth, burning his eyes with how strong it was. He really didn’t want to know how it’d feel on his chapped lips, (Nisha likes to bite, and so does he). Even with the mask on, he really doesn’t wanna do this.