capeandcowllogs | Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse

WHO: Jack Bauer and Geddoe
WHERE: One of the bars Geddoe goes to that doesn't mind sword-wielding medieval mercenaries as customers.
WHEN: Evening of the 21st.
WARNINGS: Discussion of violence.
SUMMARY: Jack and Geddoe decided they needed to do something together that didn't involve killing people for once.
FORMAT: Paragraph.

Jack needed a break. Vulcanus, the riot aftermath, the Black Tear Rebellion, the Mayor's assassination, these new kidnappings- it didn't stop, and the continuing tension was starting to get to him. Even if it was just for a few hours, he needed to take some time to do something that wasn't reacting to a crisis.

But he'd always had trouble walking away from his work and its demands, and tonight was no exception. Even going out to a bar on a Sunday evening had a professional angle to it: Jack and Geddoe kept ending up fighting alongside each other, and even though the merc wasn't a cop they worked damn well together. Geddoe was maybe a friend, but definitely an asset, one he wanted to cultivate and learn more about so he could use him better. Maybe Jack would actually manage to relax in the bargain, but as always personal considerations were secondary for him. When he showed up at Geddoe's bar to meet him for a drink, he might as well have still been in the office.

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"Retired." A vague sort of smile crossed Geddoe's face. Something he would never be. "No, I suppose none of us can sit idly by in this place, no matter what we might want." He tipped his glass in a tiny salute. "There may be more than one person around here who's glad you didn't decide to stay retired."

"Yeah, well I'd definitely hope so," Jack said. "It's hard, but at the end of the day I know there are people who are alive because of what I've done here." He nodded and looked into space. "I think that's enough. Doesn't matter what they think about me personally, really."

He looked back at Geddoe and raised his glass. "Here's to all the people who can't sit idly by."

Geddoe lifted his higher and knocked it against Jack's. "May they all be able to get a drink when they really need one," he added to the toast, and then took a deep drink. Enough to finish his off - time for a second. He flagged the bartender with one gloved finger.

"I don't mind the quiet stretches," Geddoe added, making idle small talk until his drink came. "Now that I've been here long enough to know what's possible."

Jack drained his beer, and let out a long, satisfied sigh as he set it down. He was starting to relax a little. This was good, this felt right. The things he'd learned about Geddoe so far had only helped to build his confidence in the man, which meant he could treat this a little more as an outing. He signaled for another drink shortly after Geddoe did.

"Yeah, same here," he said. "Whenever it's quiet, it's like a sign that me and the others are actually managing to get something done. It's nice. Of course, we get paid the same whether or not there's a crisis."

"What, no hazard pay?" Geddoe smirked; he, too, was clearly relaxing around a colleague. "I will give you that. Law enforcement is a steady paycheck, unlike the mercenary business."

He may have had about fifty years on the other man, but he still appeared the younger, aside from the wear and tear. He didn't mind, and would likely answer any questions asked now that they had established a rapport. The quality ale helped, too.

"Hazard pay on a CPD salary would be redundant," Jack cracked. His beer arrived, and while he was taking his first draught of it something clicked in his head.

"Twenty years as a guerrilla fighter," he said, eying the seemingly younger man. "That must have been rough. Did you join when you were young?" Somehow, Jack didn't get that feeling from Geddoe.

Geddoe lowered his gaze, almost coyly. At this point, it didn't matter if he told Jack the truth, though he was aware that it might come as a shock. Thus, he allowed a brief pause of silence to give the appropriate weight of suspense and preparation. "I'm one hundred and thirteen years old," he said plainly, and then took a drink.

Jack had the poor fortune to be taking a drink when Geddoe spoke. There was a bit of sputtering.

"A hundred and thirteen?" He stared at Geddoe and set his drink down. Given the people he worked with, the first explanation that came to mind was: "Are you not human, then?"

Geddoe shook his head. "Plain old human. This..." He lifted his right hand and waggled his fingers to indicate the Rune inside it. "...gives me eternal life."

He couldn't help but crack a wry little smirk. "I figured maybe it was time you knew just how much experience I had."

Jack managed to smirk back. "It explains a lot, really. The way you handle yourself, the way you fight." He looked at the hand, thinking about what it meant. "You're really going to live forever?"

"That depends." Geddoe made a bit of a face. "I can still be killed easily. Swords and arrows - and firearms, I suppose - will prove my mortality. I simply don't age, and don't get ill. Barring a mistake in battle, I could conceivably just keep on living."

Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse

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