[ Jess sends him the address of Delicto. her motive for inviting him there is a thousand percent ulterior. the wards on the building will prevent him from entering if this little chat is compelled in any way, or if he's there to do her harm. and if he's just been coerced through normal means, well, she doubts he's got much of a poker face. ]
( nick doesn't barhop any more but he still prefers the down, the guard presence in the up makes him too anxious. so it doesn't take much time at all to go from the theatre to jess's office — most of the time is just spent pacing out the front, chewing down on a bitten thumbnail and flirting with the idea of cancelling even though it was his suggestion.
he gets there eventually though, with a bottle of the souped up whisky that usually lines the walls of the scratch in one hand as he knocks with the other, doing a very poor impression of a calm person. )
[ Jess had been drinking when he messaged and continued to drink afterward. Whatever booze Nick is bringing, she doesn't need but she appreciates not having to share. There's a bottle on every surface, including the floor; some empty, some not, but none of them are full. She piles together all the scattered photos on her desk and the nearby tables and stows them in a drawer.
She takes out the folder marked W and sets it in front of her. She has a deep pull on the neck of a vodka bottle as she contemplates opening it. Ultimately, she doesn't. She doesn't put it away either.
Before she knows it, Nick has arrived and her vodka's nearly gone. Jess crosses to the door, unlocks and swings it open. ]
Lock it behind you. [ She unceremoniously steps back into her office. There's a couch against the wall with a coffee table in front of it. She expects it's where she expects he'll gravitate given it's the least uncomfortable seating available. ]
Creepy. ( he comments helpfully, but he locks the door behind him all the same. he's got a house warded to the eyeballs too, after all, he knows what they feel like.
he doesn't comment on the wards though, or the bottles littered around the place either, just heads for that couch and sets the bottle down on the table, sets himself down right after. nick's never been particularly good at hiding his feelings on a good day — he just deflects, usually, but he's the one who wanted to come here. it would kind of defeat the point if he gets cold feet now.
still, that doesn't stop him from bouncing his knee up and down like it's a sport and he's going for gold, and in lieu of asking for a drink the thumbnail just goes back in his mouth again. )
[ Jess grabs the bottle off her desk and drags one of the spindly client chairs to the side of the coffee table opposite him. She sits down heavily, one heel propped on the table, with both hands on the vodka in her lap. ]
( it's a point of anxiety for nick--another one, like there isn't enough, and he slumps back enough that he can tip his head back. stare up at the ceiling instead, which is a hell of a lot easier to talk to than another person. )
He started asking all these questions and I didn't know how to answer them, so I just...changed the subject.
[ She works her jaw, keeping an eye on him for a long moment before dropping her gaze to the alcohol he brought. She doesn't recognize the label. The Scratch isn't her vibe. ]
The reason I don't card people for their Dom's permission here is so Submissives in bad situations can get out of them. [ She wanted to help, starting with herself. If she didn't have this job after Tumenalia, she'd be an even bigger shitshow right now. ] Contract violations, officially. But if his hands are tied by the terms they signed under, there are other ways to get leverage.
( it's something, at least, but it isn't enough. nick's heel bounces away, teeth dig into the inside of his cheek and he doesn't feel any better for it. the timing of it all is just--cruel, and nick swallows down a shaky breath before he clears his throat. )
( it would be so easy, to just ask. jess doesn't know that he's trying to stay clean, she's got no reason to turn him down short of not wanting to share. he could sober up before he got home, no one would need to know.
instead he just scrubs a hand over his face, balls his hands into fists. no one would know, but nick would. he's been trying so goddamn hard. )
It's not--like. It's not that I don't think you're right, it's just, like...if you are, shit changes, right?. For me, and like-- ( he shuts his mouth abruptly, cuts the rambling off for a moment, pulls together a sentence that isn't stumbling over itself. ) I don't want it to.
[ She sets the bottle on the table with a thud. Jess gets the temptation to turn away. How Nick's worded it may bother her but the dread he's shoddily expressing his human. She's wanted to run when the truth was too cruel to bear. When facing it meant walking into a storm and the other option was to let the gale sweep her far from that chaos.
It's really too bad about that wording. ]
News flash, shit's changed. [ Leaning back, she raises a hand, gestures listlessly to their surroundings. ] Or why else would you be here?
( it's not like he can forget the way he's wanted something that sounded a whole lot like revenge, or the way he's carefully stepped around talking about anything that's happened with william. or the way he already knew, when she first said something, or the gut twist of fear when he found out oliver had contracted with him. or the way nick already had the justifications ready, all the guy had to do was agree to them. )
Jesus fucking Christ.
( he's determined not to break but the decision is out of nick's hands, shaking as they are even balled into those fists. his attention is back on the ceiling, because it's a hell of a lot easier to blink rapidly up at that, like it's going to help him hold it together any better. )
I told him exactly what to say. He didn't even know, I told him about the shit they pull here, I just handed him the excuse on a silver fucking platter.
[ A sigh builds in her lungs but she releases it slowly so as to remain silent. She barely knows Nick, really. She's not the person who can comfort him and she doesn't know who is. Jess rubs at her brow as he pushes himself through the gates of a gauntlet of a guilt. Jess wants to tune him out, because what help can she really be? sitting here, doing nothing, while William is out there doing god knows what, but she forces herself to listen. Register.
And she regrets it. ]
When? [ She asks before she can tell herself not to. Christ, it's not Nick's fault, and it's not hers, regardless of which of them he got to first. ] It doesn't matter. Someone would have told him. He would've found out.
( it's only because he doesn't know her that he's even capable of having the conversation at all. jess has no stakes in his life, he could never speak to her again and not a thing would change for either of them. he doesn't know how to talk about these things to people, when he has to face them the next day, and the day after. )
I thought...I thought I knew what people were like, and I thought the problems were this place. I thought— ( he sits up sprightly, gestures to the bottle on the table. ) Can I have a drink?
[ She winces, crinkles at the edges of her eyes as she takes the information like a slap. God damn it, she said it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't fucking matter.
Her response is almost spat, shattered glass sharp. ] It's your booze.
[ The chair skids as she gets up. She's going to find herself another bottle, too. Jess scoops a pint off the floor and shakes it. Seemingly dissatisfied with the loud sloshing, she twists the top off and drains it nonetheless. ]
( it is his booze. it doesn't really matter right now that it was supposed to be a gift, or payment, or something in between--for jess, at least--nick just unscrews the cap and takes a long swig. takes another, when the first wasn't satisfying enough. it burns as it goes down but nick doesn't wince, just burns a hole in the coffee table with a blank stare. )
I thought he was a good guy. Just...wrong place wrong time.
[ This is not the talk she assumed he was coming to have. She thought he'd try and pry her experience out of her, or rationalize some stubborn denial. You know, if he wasn't here at someone else's behest.
She's used to not being believed. She'd handle that better than what this is turning into. Commiseration? Or a loss of innocence that had managed to withstand every attempt at corruption until now? ]
You still think that. [ Jess stalks over to her desk and drops the empty bottle into the trash can. It makes a harsh clatter, smashing into another discarded bottle. ] Nothing's different, as far as he knows.
( he might as well admit it, nick knows that oliver isn't going to let it go now. nick is a seasoned liar but he doesn't do well when he's blindsided, and the news about that contract right after the conversation with jess? that had been a blindside.
he slugs from the bottle again, already resigned to dealing with that another day. tomorrow he can pull apart the drinking thing again, right now the liquor is more valuable in his system than in the bottle. but he nods, because if he has a direction, something to focus on, even if it's just act like everything is normal, that's better. he's always done better with direction. )
[ Jess leans back against her desk, crossing her arms. She blows a puff of air out from the bellows of her cheeks. She's safer. And anyone who might be in a similar position to her. Anyone else who brazenly refused to be blindfolded as to what was really going on during the assault. She doesn't know if she's the only one. Hoping one way or another feels equally shitty. ]
I don't know. The contract complicates things. If he was careful about it, he could be safer from Will than anyone. [ She's thought about what she'd put in writing, if some machination of the city had her signing with someone as twisted as him. Those precautions predate William by several months, though. ]
( nick had gotten lucky, as far as contracts went — the same way he's gotten lucky, over and over, in the decency of the people he's run into. he's never had to put the work into understanding the complications of contracts here.
it doesn't feel any better to keep drinking but he does it anyway, for something to do with his hands or a reason to stop. beefed up or not, nick literally makes the stuff, he knows it will take a while before it starts to take effect. a handful of sober days hasn't killed the tolerance he's built up over the years, after all. )
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idk to talk
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But I'll try
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What's going on?
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[ Jess sends him the address of Delicto. her motive for inviting him there is a thousand percent ulterior. the wards on the building will prevent him from entering if this little chat is compelled in any way, or if he's there to do her harm. and if he's just been coerced through normal means, well, she doubts he's got much of a poker face. ]
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he gets there eventually though, with a bottle of the souped up whisky that usually lines the walls of the scratch in one hand as he knocks with the other, doing a very poor impression of a calm person. )
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She takes out the folder marked W and sets it in front of her. She has a deep pull on the neck of a vodka bottle as she contemplates opening it. Ultimately, she doesn't. She doesn't put it away either.
Before she knows it, Nick has arrived and her vodka's nearly gone. Jess crosses to the door, unlocks and swings it open. ]
Lock it behind you. [ She unceremoniously steps back into her office. There's a couch against the wall with a coffee table in front of it. She expects it's where she expects he'll gravitate given it's the least uncomfortable seating available. ]
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he doesn't comment on the wards though, or the bottles littered around the place either, just heads for that couch and sets the bottle down on the table, sets himself down right after. nick's never been particularly good at hiding his feelings on a good day — he just deflects, usually, but he's the one who wanted to come here. it would kind of defeat the point if he gets cold feet now.
still, that doesn't stop him from bouncing his knee up and down like it's a sport and he's going for gold, and in lieu of asking for a drink the thumbnail just goes back in his mouth again. )
He signed a contract with my friend.
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Did your friend read the fine print?
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( it's a point of anxiety for nick--another one, like there isn't enough, and he slumps back enough that he can tip his head back. stare up at the ceiling instead, which is a hell of a lot easier to talk to than another person. )
He started asking all these questions and I didn't know how to answer them, so I just...changed the subject.
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The reason I don't card people for their Dom's permission here is so Submissives in bad situations can get out of them. [ She wanted to help, starting with herself. If she didn't have this job after Tumenalia, she'd be an even bigger shitshow right now. ] Contract violations, officially. But if his hands are tied by the terms they signed under, there are other ways to get leverage.
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You're sure that William's a bad guy?
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instead he just scrubs a hand over his face, balls his hands into fists. no one would know, but nick would. he's been trying so goddamn hard. )
It's not--like. It's not that I don't think you're right, it's just, like...if you are, shit changes, right?. For me, and like-- ( he shuts his mouth abruptly, cuts the rambling off for a moment, pulls together a sentence that isn't stumbling over itself. ) I don't want it to.
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It's really too bad about that wording. ]
News flash, shit's changed. [ Leaning back, she raises a hand, gestures listlessly to their surroundings. ] Or why else would you be here?
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( it's not like he can forget the way he's wanted something that sounded a whole lot like revenge, or the way he's carefully stepped around talking about anything that's happened with william. or the way he already knew, when she first said something, or the gut twist of fear when he found out oliver had contracted with him. or the way nick already had the justifications ready, all the guy had to do was agree to them. )
Jesus fucking Christ.
( he's determined not to break but the decision is out of nick's hands, shaking as they are even balled into those fists. his attention is back on the ceiling, because it's a hell of a lot easier to blink rapidly up at that, like it's going to help him hold it together any better. )
I told him exactly what to say. He didn't even know, I told him about the shit they pull here, I just handed him the excuse on a silver fucking platter.
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And she regrets it. ]
When? [ She asks before she can tell herself not to. Christ, it's not Nick's fault, and it's not hers, regardless of which of them he got to first. ] It doesn't matter. Someone would have told him. He would've found out.
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( it's only because he doesn't know her that he's even capable of having the conversation at all. jess has no stakes in his life, he could never speak to her again and not a thing would change for either of them. he doesn't know how to talk about these things to people, when he has to face them the next day, and the day after. )
I thought...I thought I knew what people were like, and I thought the problems were this place. I thought— ( he sits up sprightly, gestures to the bottle on the table. ) Can I have a drink?
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Her response is almost spat, shattered glass sharp. ] It's your booze.
[ The chair skids as she gets up. She's going to find herself another bottle, too. Jess scoops a pint off the floor and shakes it. Seemingly dissatisfied with the loud sloshing, she twists the top off and drains it nonetheless. ]
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I thought he was a good guy. Just...wrong place wrong time.
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She's used to not being believed. She'd handle that better than what this is turning into. Commiseration? Or a loss of innocence that had managed to withstand every attempt at corruption until now? ]
You still think that. [ Jess stalks over to her desk and drops the empty bottle into the trash can. It makes a harsh clatter, smashing into another discarded bottle. ] Nothing's different, as far as he knows.
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( he might as well admit it, nick knows that oliver isn't going to let it go now. nick is a seasoned liar but he doesn't do well when he's blindsided, and the news about that contract right after the conversation with jess? that had been a blindside.
he slugs from the bottle again, already resigned to dealing with that another day. tomorrow he can pull apart the drinking thing again, right now the liquor is more valuable in his system than in the bottle. but he nods, because if he has a direction, something to focus on, even if it's just act like everything is normal, that's better. he's always done better with direction. )
Is he safer if he doesn't know?
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I don't know. The contract complicates things. If he was careful about it, he could be safer from Will than anyone. [ She's thought about what she'd put in writing, if some machination of the city had her signing with someone as twisted as him. Those precautions predate William by several months, though. ]
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( nick had gotten lucky, as far as contracts went — the same way he's gotten lucky, over and over, in the decency of the people he's run into. he's never had to put the work into understanding the complications of contracts here.
it doesn't feel any better to keep drinking but he does it anyway, for something to do with his hands or a reason to stop. beefed up or not, nick literally makes the stuff, he knows it will take a while before it starts to take effect. a handful of sober days hasn't killed the tolerance he's built up over the years, after all. )
Apparently he likes Oli's face.
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