((Thank you to Jon's player for a great scene, edited below with permission))
Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet. Vietnamese Proverb
It was just as well that the wake was in the family compound. The liquor had been flowing freely and neither one of them probably had any business driving. Instead, they staggered around the pond and across green stretches of lawn, arm in arm. She got the key in the lock after the third try, and swung the door open with a flourish.
"Ishy! We're ho-oo-ome!" The big Maine Coon sitting on the arm of the sofa looked supremely unimpressed.
"Shhhh, don't tell him! He hates me." Jon was convinced the cat hated him, though Ishmael was really mostly indifferent about his mistress' other pet. He took a lean in the doorway, holding himself up with a hand, as though if he didn't he might fall flat on his face.
"He doesn't hate you. He's just reserved." Lena had to come to the defense of Ishmael, since he did nothing to help his own cause most days. "Aren't you Ish?" She kicked off her heels just inside the door and stumbled in her stocking feet toward the big tom, who promptly hopped down and fled for parts of the house unknown.
"See?" Jon pushed off his lean to gesture at the retreating cat and swayed a little in place. "He hates me."
He followed his sister inside, shoving the door closed behind him, and dropped into the nearest chair before he fell over with a sigh.
She cocked an ear to listen, but it didn't sound like Eli was home. So she sent her sigh gusting after the cat and stole his spot on the couch, flopping into the cushions. "It's not even six o'clock yet. It feels like midnight."
He smiled over at his sister, amused. It was a rarity to see her intoxicated, and even rarer for them both to be lit up together. It was usually one or the other, not both, but without the need for a designated driver, it didn't matter.
"That's what happens when you drink in the middle of the day." He pried his shoes off and left them where they were, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
"What a sh**ty day," she said, and because it felt right in her mouth, she said it again. "Sh**ty. Sh**ty sh**ty sh**ty." Poor Dom.
Jonathan would have normally been amused, but his face scrunched in a conflicted frown as he agreed quietly. "Yeah."
"Has he talked to you about what he's going to do?" She squinted at Jon, who looked so severe in his dark suit that it made her frown deepen. "I'm worried about him."
His reply was slower, careful. "Dom doesn't talk to me anymore, Lena."
Her hand flailed at the back of the couch so she could pull herself up to look at him. "What' Why"'"
He paused a moment to consider her question. No one talked to him much anymore, it seemed. Not since the shooting. It was as if they were trying to protect him or maybe they just didn't think they knew him very well anymore. He could understand that. He hardly knew himself. "Everything's changed." He felt heartsick about what had happened to Gwen, one more tragedy in a long line of tragic events. "Maybe our family's cursed."
She made a dismissive sound at the idea of a curse. "Not everything. I'm glad you're here, Jonny. That hasn't changed." She stretched her hand out across the arm of the couch toward him in the chair. "And Dom's hurt right now. Don't take it personally."
"I know." He stretched out an arm toward her, linking his fingers with her. No matter what the rest of the family thought, he knew he would always have Lena, no matter what. "I'm worried he's going to do something stupid."
Hurt himself, was her first thought. She tightened the lace of her fingers through his. "What should we do' If you're right, he shouldn't be alone."
"He's going to want revenge, Lena."
"Revenge for what? Are you two fighting?" She didn't seem to be quite following him.
"For Gwen's death," Jon's mind was going in ten different directions at once, as he answered. "If it were me, it's what I'd want."
"We don't even know who was responsible for the bomb," she pointed out. "Who knows what the Watch has learned so far" And security is so tight around here that I doubt he can hiccup without someone hearing about it. What do you think he's going to do?"
"Try to find out who's responsible and go after them." He frowned over at his sister, clearly worried. "Think about it. First Caroline, then me, then Lola went missing and now this. Did you ever stop to think it could all be related?"
From the startled look on her face, she hadn't.
"I told him I'd help."
Her buzz was quickly going south. "Help him do what, exactly?"
When Jon had made the promise to Dom, he had spoken in anger and grief. Now that he'd had a few days to think, he wasn't so sure anymore that they should take matters in their own hands. "Revenge, Lena."
She let go of his hand jerkily, standing. "Against who, Jon' How?"
He reached for her hand to pull her down beside him, too tired or too inebriated to get up. "Lena, don't worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid."
Stubbornly, she remained on her feet, though their knees bumped and it was a near thing. "Going off by yourself to help Dom kill the people who bombed that building - that's not stupid?"
"I'm not..." He sighed. "I'm not gonna help Dom kill anyone, Lena." The part of him that was a pacifist almost always won out in the end. It was a matter for the Watch, or failing that, for people like Gigi. He wasn't a killer. He didn't think he had it in him to kill anyone. "You wanted to know what I think Dom will do. That's what I think."
"I know. I know I did....but what do you think he thinks you promised him, Jonny?"
Relenting a smidge, she dropped onto the corner of the cushion and nudged him with a hand to his thigh. "Make some room at least."
He smiled at her when she relented, sliding over a little to give her room, but the smile faded as he considered her question. "I'll talk to him." He sighed again. He'd been slowly but surely sorting things out in his head, but putting the pieces of his past together was slow work.
"How are you doing?" She moved on from Dom for now, dropping her head on Jon's shoulder and picking fretfully at the sleeve of his suit jacket. It had been a few days since he'd come home, but they'd been a whirlwind. "I'm worried about you.?
"I'm fine, Lena. Don't worry about me."
"I can't help it. You're my brother. I'm supposed to worry about you. It's part of the package." She tugged at his sleeve one more time. "Let's change and go sit on the patio and drink some more. I can make up stories about my non-existent love life and you can laugh at me."
He smiled warmly up at her, glad she hadn't pressed him too much for details, though she might later. "I won't laugh." He crossed his heart. "Promise."
"Oh, God. Now I know you're drunk. I would. My stories are pathetic." Smiling, she maneuvered herself up onto her feet. "Meet you outside. I need to pee. And change! I need to change." Off she went down the hall.
Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet. Vietnamese Proverb
It was just as well that the wake was in the family compound. The liquor had been flowing freely and neither one of them probably had any business driving. Instead, they staggered around the pond and across green stretches of lawn, arm in arm. She got the key in the lock after the third try, and swung the door open with a flourish.
"Ishy! We're ho-oo-ome!" The big Maine Coon sitting on the arm of the sofa looked supremely unimpressed.
"Shhhh, don't tell him! He hates me." Jon was convinced the cat hated him, though Ishmael was really mostly indifferent about his mistress' other pet. He took a lean in the doorway, holding himself up with a hand, as though if he didn't he might fall flat on his face.
"He doesn't hate you. He's just reserved." Lena had to come to the defense of Ishmael, since he did nothing to help his own cause most days. "Aren't you Ish?" She kicked off her heels just inside the door and stumbled in her stocking feet toward the big tom, who promptly hopped down and fled for parts of the house unknown.
"See?" Jon pushed off his lean to gesture at the retreating cat and swayed a little in place. "He hates me."
He followed his sister inside, shoving the door closed behind him, and dropped into the nearest chair before he fell over with a sigh.
She cocked an ear to listen, but it didn't sound like Eli was home. So she sent her sigh gusting after the cat and stole his spot on the couch, flopping into the cushions. "It's not even six o'clock yet. It feels like midnight."
He smiled over at his sister, amused. It was a rarity to see her intoxicated, and even rarer for them both to be lit up together. It was usually one or the other, not both, but without the need for a designated driver, it didn't matter.
"That's what happens when you drink in the middle of the day." He pried his shoes off and left them where they were, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
"What a sh**ty day," she said, and because it felt right in her mouth, she said it again. "Sh**ty. Sh**ty sh**ty sh**ty." Poor Dom.
Jonathan would have normally been amused, but his face scrunched in a conflicted frown as he agreed quietly. "Yeah."
"Has he talked to you about what he's going to do?" She squinted at Jon, who looked so severe in his dark suit that it made her frown deepen. "I'm worried about him."
His reply was slower, careful. "Dom doesn't talk to me anymore, Lena."
Her hand flailed at the back of the couch so she could pull herself up to look at him. "What' Why"'"
He paused a moment to consider her question. No one talked to him much anymore, it seemed. Not since the shooting. It was as if they were trying to protect him or maybe they just didn't think they knew him very well anymore. He could understand that. He hardly knew himself. "Everything's changed." He felt heartsick about what had happened to Gwen, one more tragedy in a long line of tragic events. "Maybe our family's cursed."
She made a dismissive sound at the idea of a curse. "Not everything. I'm glad you're here, Jonny. That hasn't changed." She stretched her hand out across the arm of the couch toward him in the chair. "And Dom's hurt right now. Don't take it personally."
"I know." He stretched out an arm toward her, linking his fingers with her. No matter what the rest of the family thought, he knew he would always have Lena, no matter what. "I'm worried he's going to do something stupid."
Hurt himself, was her first thought. She tightened the lace of her fingers through his. "What should we do' If you're right, he shouldn't be alone."
"He's going to want revenge, Lena."
"Revenge for what? Are you two fighting?" She didn't seem to be quite following him.
"For Gwen's death," Jon's mind was going in ten different directions at once, as he answered. "If it were me, it's what I'd want."
"We don't even know who was responsible for the bomb," she pointed out. "Who knows what the Watch has learned so far" And security is so tight around here that I doubt he can hiccup without someone hearing about it. What do you think he's going to do?"
"Try to find out who's responsible and go after them." He frowned over at his sister, clearly worried. "Think about it. First Caroline, then me, then Lola went missing and now this. Did you ever stop to think it could all be related?"
From the startled look on her face, she hadn't.
"I told him I'd help."
Her buzz was quickly going south. "Help him do what, exactly?"
When Jon had made the promise to Dom, he had spoken in anger and grief. Now that he'd had a few days to think, he wasn't so sure anymore that they should take matters in their own hands. "Revenge, Lena."
She let go of his hand jerkily, standing. "Against who, Jon' How?"
He reached for her hand to pull her down beside him, too tired or too inebriated to get up. "Lena, don't worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid."
Stubbornly, she remained on her feet, though their knees bumped and it was a near thing. "Going off by yourself to help Dom kill the people who bombed that building - that's not stupid?"
"I'm not..." He sighed. "I'm not gonna help Dom kill anyone, Lena." The part of him that was a pacifist almost always won out in the end. It was a matter for the Watch, or failing that, for people like Gigi. He wasn't a killer. He didn't think he had it in him to kill anyone. "You wanted to know what I think Dom will do. That's what I think."
"I know. I know I did....but what do you think he thinks you promised him, Jonny?"
Relenting a smidge, she dropped onto the corner of the cushion and nudged him with a hand to his thigh. "Make some room at least."
He smiled at her when she relented, sliding over a little to give her room, but the smile faded as he considered her question. "I'll talk to him." He sighed again. He'd been slowly but surely sorting things out in his head, but putting the pieces of his past together was slow work.
"How are you doing?" She moved on from Dom for now, dropping her head on Jon's shoulder and picking fretfully at the sleeve of his suit jacket. It had been a few days since he'd come home, but they'd been a whirlwind. "I'm worried about you.?
"I'm fine, Lena. Don't worry about me."
"I can't help it. You're my brother. I'm supposed to worry about you. It's part of the package." She tugged at his sleeve one more time. "Let's change and go sit on the patio and drink some more. I can make up stories about my non-existent love life and you can laugh at me."
He smiled warmly up at her, glad she hadn't pressed him too much for details, though she might later. "I won't laugh." He crossed his heart. "Promise."
"Oh, God. Now I know you're drunk. I would. My stories are pathetic." Smiling, she maneuvered herself up onto her feet. "Meet you outside. I need to pee. And change! I need to change." Off she went down the hall.