IC contact for snowblindrpg

[devoutish]

Yeah?

[That's it, that's all you get.]

OOC: CAPTCHA has been hit, so please go here for all your IC inbox needs!

Comments

[jumpthegun]

Do you want me to ask Clint anything else?

[He's done with this topic, Alfie.]

[devoutish]

John. This is out of concern for you, you understand?

[jumpthegun]

[Or apparently not. It's harder to be dismissive when Alfie says things like that.]

I know. I just... Mary and Sherlock are already coddling me. [As much as Sherlock can be said to coddle.] I don't need more people acting like I'm a bloody chipped piece of china that's liable to crack.

[devoutish]

I'm treating you like a fucking mortal man. This isn't coddling; fuck off.

[jumpthegun]

[Any amount of care beyond the bare minimum is coddling when directed at him.

John bristles, but doesn't immediately respond, letting that immediate snappishness pass. He knows His voice is tight when he responds.]

Sorry.

[Years on, years in, even with Mary there, and it still feels strange and uncomfortable to have people wanting to look after him in any capacity. Mrs. Hudson had been different, motherly to everyone, not just him. That had made it all right, and even she'd gotten to be too much for him at times.]

Thanks.

[His tone is fairly grudging, but he says it.]

[devoutish]

Mm.

[Alfie goes quiet for a few moments - maybe even long enough to make Watson think he's done talking, even though he hasn't ended the feed.]

No. There's nothing else I want you to ask Clint; no.

[jumpthegun]

Right. Fine. Good. [He should probably try for words with more than one or two syllables. John clears his throat.] I'll talk to you later, Alfie. Clint said he'd give you a call later, as well. Text. He's texting because of the Joker, you know?

[devoutish]

Yeah, I know.

Do you need to hang up, or can you stay on for a bit?

[jumpthegun]

I can stay for a bit... something else on your mind?

[devoutish]

No, no. Well--

[He grunts.]

I should talk to people more, I think. Better that way.

[jumpthegun]

[John lets his head fall into his free hand for a moment.]

What should we talk about, then? Home? Here?

[devoutish]

[Alfie pauses, casting around for some topic - anything at all. Finally, he sighs.]

No. No, never mind.

[jumpthegun]

No. If you want to talk, I want to talk. Could tell you about some of my old cases from back home.

[devoutish]

That'll be me just listening, eh?

[jumpthegun]

We could do it as a game. I give you the clues we had, and you try to deduce what happened?

[This is his idea of games. Sherlock has corrupted him.]

[devoutish]

[It actually is something that Alfie might have had some fun with, under ordinary circumstances. A few months ago, maybe.]

Nah. My head's not up to it, today.

Tell me what you're doing now?

[jumpthegun]

Just resting after the transfusion, cleaning my equipment. Listening to Mycroft complain in the other... he does a good bit of that. He's an office worker. Soft.

[devoutish]

Government, isn't he?

[jumpthegun]

He is the government. Basically runs the country from behind the scenes.

[devoutish]

Then surely he could stand to be told to buck up.

[jumpthegun]

He could stand it. And then complain about it. Imagine Sherlock, just with slightly better manners and even more insufferable surety. That's Mycroft.

[devoutish]

I'd smack the both of them if I spent any amount of time with them.

[jumpthegun]

They'd both deserve it. Sherlock might punch you back, though. Fair warning. I think Mycroft would just stand there sputtering. He's a drama queen.

[devoutish]

I'd respect him more for punching back.

[jumpthegun]

I'll be sure to let him know, but maybe let's just avoid the situation, yeah? I think everyone's been knocked around enough here.