hmph

[freedomsuitsme]

(come_sailaway IC inbox)

"Do try to keep your handwriting legible. I've enough on my plate without having to decipher chicken scratch."

"Correspondences written on a dirty bar napkin will not receive a response."

Comments

text

[businessorlibation]

We should talk.

He is kind enough to de-escalate from 'We need to talk', but the curtness and tone is still part of the message, after he heard from Honoria.

[freedomsuitsme]

Over the phone or in person?

Johnny isn't the sort of person who sends Maxwell into a social panic upon hearing those words, fortunately. And he's curious.

[businessorlibation]

In person. Honoria passed along your message.

He's not even sure Crabb gave her first name.

[freedomsuitsme]

Where should we meet?

[businessorlibation]

Somewhere relatively private. The formal dining room, perhaps, or one of the less-used bars.

[freedomsuitsme]

Do you have a preference? I’m rather fond of Stellar.

[businessorlibation]

Then Stellar it is. Dress up, I'll meet you in half an hour.

Because like fuck is Johnny Summer not going to come decked out properly for a formal dining room. Tonight, it's his dinner dress white jacket, hair slicked back just so, shoes shined to a high polish.

[freedomsuitsme]

See you then.

> action

[businessorlibation]

Johnny is sitting at a table facing the door when Maxwell arrives, his expression opaque.

[freedomsuitsme]

He enters, dressed in his usual best, as well as his evening coat. His illusory cologne is a little more pronounced than usual.

"Good evening, Mr. Summer."

[businessorlibation]

"I hope you're well, Maxwell. Please, come, sit. And speak for yourself now." Rather than sending his misconception through others.

[freedomsuitsme]

"Apologies that I had Ms. Honoria deliver my thoughts to you. I... well, I thought it might mean more coming from her, if she was willing to convey it. It's not something I'm often willing to be receptive to, I admit."

[businessorlibation]

"Maxwell." First name, here. Not honorific and last name. And a moment of quiet, weighted eye contact. "I want to hear your thoughts from you. As you'd have them heard by me. Please."

[freedomsuitsme]

Maxwell is caught slightly off-guard. It's difficult for him to speak his mind without a cold remark or a cynical tilt to what he says, but this is Johnny. This is a man who, in the span of just a couple of months, has become someone he genuinely respects, as a rival and perhaps as a confidant. It's been a quick turnaround, but then again, this place does strange things to people, it seems.

He gathers his thoughts together before he speaks his mind.

"You said once that someone has to stay behind, to tend to the weary and the fallen and the battle-scarred when they return from their excursions. You expressed some guilt over the fact that you don't go on the excursions yourself, but you also have made it quite clear that you put a lot of value and effort into what you do. And... I can't help but once again see my own circumstances reflected in you, in that regard."

"I don't think it will shock you to hear when I say that I'm a prideful man. I tend to see myself as being capable of handling tasks with a certain thoroughness and finesse that others are not capable of, and should I come up short on that task, even if it's due to my energy being diverted to other responsibilities, I often see it as a personal failing. In particular, I usually manage the food supply back home, in the Constant. Preparation is another matter, of course, I'm hardly the best cook, but I make sure we have everything we could need, to the point that we often have a surplus. Yet there are times where I've become so fixated on that task that I've found I can think about little else, with the consequence being that I fail to set my sights on a task I really ought to do. My perfectionism becomes a prison of my own design. It... seems a bad habit of mine, to bind myself in some fashion, for no reason other than a sort of personal compulsion."

"Perhaps I've misunderstood completely. But if you're staying on board because you're afraid of what will happen in your absence, I urge you to try striking off those chains at least once more. Despite this place being a prison, I think there's a lot of power here for us to set ourselves free of our old limitations."

He scowls in disbelief at the words coming out of his own mouth.

"... bloody... I really have been talking too much to Ms. Grace, haven't I?"

[businessorlibation]

"You are a beautifully caring man, and I hear what you're trying to say, but you're completely lacking context on the matter. I don't stay on the ship because I think that I'm the only one who can do the care-tasks and prepare for the mental fallout of the excursions."

He glances down, his expression sheepish.

"Do you know what 'agoraphobia' is?"

[freedomsuitsme]

He's... not sure if he should feel insulted over being accused of being a good person, but he puts that aside. He knows he's heard the term 'agoraphobia' before, but he can't quite recall.

"A... fear of open places?" he guesses, from what little he can scrounge up from his memories.

[businessorlibation]

The corner of his lips quirks slightly

"An overly literal translation. In practice, it's more like a fear of going outside. A deep existential dread at the thought of leaving the place you think of as safe. I'm not only stuck here because I'm helpful. I'm stuck here because I'm a coward."

[freedomsuitsme]

He takes a sip of his water, not quite sure when his glass was filled and not particularly caring.

"The thing people call cowardice is too often maligned, I think."

[businessorlibation]

"The last time I left this ship was on an excursion last December. Where Watson was killed and I was left alone with his corpse for some time while Cesar ran off to play hero for other people. The time before that, to rescue someone from zombies; I was only out for about twenty minutes. Look, I'm not telling you that a kick in the ass isn't what I deserve. I'm just giving you context to give me the proper kick in the ass. Tell me to man up or something, not that I am being too virtuous and helpful."

[freedomsuitsme]

"But... you are looking for a kick in the pants? Because I'll tell you right now, pal, I'm not in a position to lecture anyone about being a coward. I pride myself on being a coward, in fact. It's what's let me survive the long game."

[businessorlibation]

"I'm looking..." And he deflates visibly, shaking his head. "I'm looking for you to know me as I am, Maxwell, not to ascribe virtue to me that isn't mine. Not to send my friends to tell me I'm doing too much, when what I'm doing is hiding, and they know it."

[freedomsuitsme]

There's something about Johnny's admission that irks him. Maybe it's the air of 'my weakness, my shame'- where he comes from, being afraid can be the one thing that saves you, and knowing when to run is the greatest form of wisdom. Too often, 'being brave' is what leads to a loss of life, a loss of resources, a general setback for everyone involved. Oh, of course it's necessary at times, but reckless bravado is a lethal drug more often than not. Then there's the fact that Johnny isn't exactly cowering in his cabin. Oh, certainly, he could let his fear dictate that he do exactly that, but instead the man is out here bringing up the mood of the room and urging cooperation in a place that could just as easily devolve into a frenzy of 'every person for themselves.' If this had been a simple admission of a weakness, he would have taken it more in stride; it would feel no different to him than the librarian's inability to sleep, or the valkyrie's inability to eat vegetables, but there's a layer of... maybe not self-pity, but something that leaves a bad taste in the magician's mouth. Perhaps it's some of his lingering animosity bubbling back to the surface, or perhaps it's some of that distaste at being accused of being a good person, but when he responds, it's with a bite to his tone.

"Then I would ask that you do the same with me. I am not a good man, Johnny Summer. I am not a caring man. I am thrice-damned and wretched, I've sold my soul at every opportunity I can, and I still chuckle to myself when I see irony in someone else's suffering. I send others to do my bidding and avoid danger because I crumple at the faintest breeze. So please, do be open with me, but do not mistake anything I do for compassion, and by the gods, stop privately wallowing in your insecurities; you're one of the most together people here, and frankly, it's embarrassing."

He takes another sip of water, expression cold.

"But no, I won't embarrass you in front of your friends, since you asked nicely. Heaven forbid I do anything to remind you of something you're already taking well in stride."