redrighthanded | IC; Duplicity Inbox

It's been a long, pretty strange night. Though Hellboy has had far longer and stranger ones, nights that seemed to last years, fighting his way through an endless snowstorm or just waiting out the arc of the stars on a ship full of ghosts. But this has definitely been something he'd qualify as weirder than most, even if he's come out the other side without any new scars to speak of for once.

He's stretched out on one of the beds, his hoofed feet sticking out over the end, left arm curled up behind his head and his right hand spread over his bare chest. Besides his breathing and the tip of his tail twitching gently where it's lying on the floor, he's completely still and might easily be asleep. He's not, though, mostly because the tequila and whatever he was dosed with at the club is still running warm and prickly in his blood, keeping his mind from drifting into much needed oblivion.

The draft of cool wet November air that slides into the room as the window eases opens doesn't prompt him to open his eyes. He doesn't bother wondering why Jacob has decided to come in that way, figuring he'll find that out eventually, and lets him get all the way in before he speaks up, a low gravel rumble of sound.

"Have fun out there?"

"Not as much fun as you probably had," Jacob replies, shedding his coat, folding it and letting it drop over the back of a hair, his eyes moving over the form that fills one of the beds. He looks like he could be asleep, or falling asleep. He pauses, before he finishes taking off his cravat and waistcoat, and moves to sit on the edge of the empty bed. His bed, he supposes. The springs creak a bit, but it seems okay. He hasn't slept in a bed of his own for a while. Orientation made it seem like he wouldn't be here either, if he was a good sub. Ha! Joke's on them, he's never, ever, been good at anything.

"I didn't wake you up?" He asks, voice soft, an edge of concern in the tone. He hopes he didn't. He really expected Hellboy to still be out, having a great time, fucking and drinking and fighting. He wouldn't have minded doing that himself, but unfortunately, not everything can be fun and games. Not when he has to figure this place out and somehow save it.

He sits, thinking about that, the sheer amount of work that will be, before he really can't be still any longer and flops backwards. No. No more of that now.

"Are you going to tell me where you went?"

Besides the soft glow of his eyes, Hellboy's senses aren't any better than a normal human's. He has had some practice at paying attention to them though, so he can mostly track Jacob as he crosses the room, the shuffle of his footsteps and the creak of the bedsprings as he drops down onto it.

"Didn't wake me up," he murmurs, opening his eyes a little, enough to let a thin slice of gold show as he looks down the length of the bed and over at the half-shadowed shape of the other man, the stranger he's living with now thanks to whoever is running the joint. Well, he's had worse roommates than a guy who gives a really good blowjob. Jacob's still alive, at least. And probably not going to complain about his cigars.

He shifts a little on the bed, scratching thoughtfully at the coarse hair on his chest with his stone hand.

"Place called Insecurity. It's a nightclub run by some guy wanted for murder I guess. You gotta wear a mask but it's got a deal where you don't have to be.. dominant or submissive or whatever. You can be what you want. Pretty popular."

Jacob shifts, moving onto his side and propping up his head with his hand. It's a good vantage point, back to the window, the door beyond the beds, and the silhouette of Hellboy. As his eyes open, that beautiful glow- like the fire in a furnace, making Jacob feel warm despite the chill in his limbs from being outside. Maybe he shouldn't have taken off his coat just yet.

He watches the other move, watches the light highlight his fingers, but through the rest of him into shadow. Jacob is very much used to watching shadows, to see movement in the night, but it's rare that he enjoys watching what's in front of him. Rare that he finds himself smiling in the darkness.

"Insecurity? I'm not sure I like the name." He murmurs, his words low and amused. But he'll grudgingly admit that it sounds... interesting. A place where set roles can be ignored, turned on their heads. Sounds like the sort of place he could use. He just needs to work out how. "But maybe I should go have a look myself."

He brings his free hand up, so can begin to idly unfasten the rest of his shirt, taking his time. There's no hurry, this is just a casual conversation between roommates.

"And what did you want to be?"

Edited 2020-11-22 23:43 (UTC)

Hellboy feels the pressure of Jacob's attention on him and turns his head slightly to look over, watching him as he thumbs over the buttons of his shirt, the faint reflected glow of the city coming through the window gilding the edges and planes of his body.

When the question's posed to him, he goes back to surveying the ceiling, thinking it over. He hadn't really considered whether there was something he wanted to be, but when offered the choice, he'd definitely steered himself away from picking the collar.

"I dunno," he replies after a few more moments of thought. His tail curls up on itself on the floor, flexing idly, never really still. "I didn't choose this." A wave of his hand indicates their surroundings, their tattoos, their mutual situation. "But I dunno if that means anything about what I want."

He glances back over at Jacob. "Do you know what you'd rather be?"

Jacob needs no such time to think. He knows what he wants, what he's always craved, and the answer comes with an accompanying peel of laughter. "Free."

It's the one thing he can't have. At home, he's bound to the Creed, has been since his birth, and while there are no physical chains to hold him, he knows full well the reality of the world he comes from. He can't unknow it, the war between Templar and Assassin, the number of innocent people killed and enslaved because of it. He has a moral duty to do something about it, to act on what he knows.

But he wouldn't have picked that life for himself.

And Hellboy knows the state of play here. They have no freedom, not really. Unable to buy anything for themselves, needing permission to go to the Up, all the rest of the bullshit this place has thrown at them.

"But failing that? I'd rather be drunk."

As his shift is now undone, he drops the hand down and pulls from between the bed and thin mattress a hip flask. It's not quite as full as it was when he arrived, but it's far from empty. And there's some good, strong spirits in there. He takes a pull, and then offers it out.

It's a pretty good answer; Hellboy wishes he'd thought of it. He keeps his eyes on the other man, the steady beat of his evening at the club still washing against his internal shores. He doesn't quite feel buzzed, just relaxed. Probably more relaxed than he should be, but he'll take it over feeling crowded and confused.

Jacob seems to be thinking along the same lines. Hellboy cracks a bit of a grin at the sight of that hidden flask and pulls himself up a little bit so he can reach out and accept it. It's darker and a softer burn than the tequila he's been drinking, but it pools in his belly and chest just the same. He wonders idly if he should be worried at how easy it is for him to get drunk here.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, he offers the flask back again.

"So how come the window?" He indicates the feature in question with a nod of his head. "Got something against doors?"

The wane light makes that grin glow almost bright as his eyes, and Jacob's glad that he reaches out for the flask. A bit of camaraderie has never gone amiss, it makes a difficult situation far easier to bear. When it's returned, Jacob takes another swig himself. He's not sure yet what he'll do when it runs out, but he supposes there must be some local brew that will warm him from the inside out in the same way.

"Oh, that." Jacob murmurs. "I was on the roof. It was quicker, rather than going all the way to the ground floor, and then taking the stairs. That's why I leave it open."

It seemed like common sense to him. He used the rooftops as often as he used the roads, maybe even more often here, where SIN guards patrolled the streets. It gave him a better understanding of where things were, what routes he could take if he needed to get somewhere fast. He's not entirely sure the people that run the housing are going to be very pleased about using the window of their room as his own personal entrance and exit. But it was late, the place was badly lit, and he's certain no one but Hellboy would have noticed him.

Edited 2020-11-24 21:20 (UTC)

Hellboy raises his eyebrows a little as he folds his left arm back behind his head, using the new angle to look over at Jacob. The tip of his tail ticks thoughtfully back and forth on the floor.

"The roof?" He's not especially surprised to learn that his roommate is kind of quirky; everyone in the city seems to have something going on, and it maybe goes a little way to explain those scars and the guy's carefree attitude towards their surroundings. Part of him admires that kind of freewheeling attitude, it reminds him of the romantic heroes he worshipped as a kid, Lobster Johnson and the rest.

"See anything interesting up there?"

There's a soft noise, a hum of confirmation but also a wait-a-second sort of noise, as Jacob pulls himself up and off the bed, back towards his coat. He pulls put some bits of paper- mismatched scraps that he could get his hands on- which he's begun to carefully make a plan of the city. At least, this half of it.

He comes back to the beds, and sits down on the edge of his own, looking over the notes and the sketches.

"The Down is pretty extensive and its difficult to really get an idea of it, but... it's not bad looking, at night." He felt the same way about London. It was a seething hellhole but bloody beautiful when pin-pricks of light lit it from within.

"And I don't recognise any of the stars. If they are stars." He adds, although perhaps that's a given. They're clearly not on Earth. But where they could be aside from Earth gives him a bit of a headache.

When Jacob comes back around to sit on the edge of his bed, Hellboy levers himself up on one elbow to look over at what he's brought out. The dim light isn't much of a challenge for his eyes; he glances over the handful of drawings with unfeigned interest, even reaching out to take one, with a glance up at the other man's face for permission before he does so.

"Hey, nice," he murmurs, more about the sketches than the idea of strange stars or a city spread out in front of him. His own artistic ability is limited to the occasional scrawl of some arcane symbol or motif, but he knows enough to be impressed by the deft and precise lines.

Jacob makes no effort to stop Hellboy examining the drawing and maps, he brought them out for him to see them if he wanted to. They aren't perfect by any means, but they aren't bad. The map has a few sites numbered and labelled: the stations, warehouses, other buildings.

He then reaches for his flask again, has another drink.

"I'm trying to work out how this place works. Who does what. Where the main points of interest are. Who the fuck is running the thing." He pauses and glances after the paper. "Eventually."

He shrugs that off, and takes another mouthful and offers the flask out again. "What did you do, in your world?"

Even if it's simple, it's more than Hellboy feels he could create given the chance. He examines the notes a little longer before offering them back again. It feels good to share a quiet moment like this, almost like they're in a normal kind of place. He takes the flask when it's held out to him and tips back a shallow swallow, not wanting to drain the thing when it's not his.

"I was a paranormal investigator," he replies after a brief pause to think about that answer. "Now I'm.. not so sure. Left the agency I was with a while ago. Spent a few years kinda being thrown around. Lost a couple years in the wilderness and stuck on the bottom of the sea." He gives a tiny shrug, holding out the flask.

"How about you? Roof inspector?"

"A paranormal investigator?" Jacob frowns, repeating the words as he takes the sketches back, tucking them away. He's never heard of such a thing but... "Like a medium but not quite?"

Someone who deals with ghosts, or at least, the suspicion and rumour of ghosts and supernatural things. He would scoff because he doesn't believe in those things himself, but looking across the room? At a man with glowing eyes, a tail, the remains of horns? Probably best not to say that's bullshit. It clearly isn't where Hellboy is from. And in truth, he has gone out looking for ghosts himself- in Dicken's haunted house, he's chased Spring-Heeled Jack over half of London. And then there was that strange carriage accident...

No. It could all be explained, logically. At least, where he's from.

He can't help but grin at the suggestion. Roof inspector? He'll have to use that one next time he gets caught somewhere he shouldn't be, like the balconies of Buckingham Palace.

"No. I was... I ran a gang." Which may be better than telling people he's an assassin, there's too much that has to be explained, too much history, too many questions about why and what and how. He doesn't know the answers to some of it, can't remember other parts. He doesn't know if Hellboy would believe him or think less of him anyway, and finding out your roommate murders people? Probably not something most people would be happy about.

It's not exactly the answer Hellboy's expecting, especially since it doesn't explain all the coming in through the window stuff, but he's willing to accept it if it's what Jacob wants to give him. He's used to people having their tough stories, the secret parts of themselves they might not want to share with someone they've known less than a week, so he doesn't push, though he also doesn't hide the slight upwards tick of his eyebrows that betrays his lack of conviction in that being the end of that particular sentence.

"Sure," he offers, shifting to lie back down again with a quiet groan, the tiredness in his muscles starting to tell through the buzz of the alcohol. He gives Jacob a narrow glance.

"Used to being in charge, huh?" He asks evenly, more curious than judgemental. "No wonder you're looking to get outta here."

He doesn't need full daylight to see some of the skepticism in Hellboy's expression. Maybe it doesn't explain everything, but it's not a lie. And for the time being, it's what he's prepared to say. But Hellboy doesn't push, and for that Jacob really is grateful, relaxing a little as he screws the lid back onto the flask, and tucks it away again, along with the plans and half-drawn maps.

"I was expecting something more suggestive after a line like that," He teases, and then begins to unlace and pull off his boots. It's cool enough to keep the rest of his clothes on as he settles back on his own bed. "And yes, I need to go back. But I think... this place needs shaking up first."

Doms and Subs, poor and rich, oppressed and oppressor. It's so familiar that it hurts, and having come from one success to here, Jacob can't help but feel he can do something to make this place better. For everyone.

"Yeah?" Hellboy's voice is a low rumble. He watches the other man lean back on his bed, considering it. The way Jacob talks, it doesn't sound like an idle boast, the kind of thing a guy might say to impress someone. He sounds like he believes what he's saying -- more importantly, like he believes he can do it. He's a young guy and he's got the scars to back it up, so Hellboy's prepared to take him at his word for the moment.

He hums thoughtfully, scratching his bare chest with one big stone fingertip. "How are you gonna do that?"

Jacob doesn't say it as a boast. It's matter of fact, direct. The place is unjust, inhumane, and it needs to change. Just like London needed to be freed from the evil choke-hold of the Templars, Duplicity in turn needs to break free.

He turns to face Hellboy again, and while it's probably unwise to tell him any of his plans, he doesn't actually hesitate to do just that.

"There's two problems. First there's
the set up of the place, and two: the people in charge and the SIN guards. You have to deal with both at the same time, cutting off the head won't fix anything. Might just make it worse. You have to even the disparity between the Down and the Up, you have to stop enforcing these positions and refusing people basic rights."

He pauses then, sighs. "But I don't know how to achieve any of that yet."

Studying him in the dim light, Hellboy can't find anything wrong with what Jacob's proposing. It's clear that the whole city is in a pretty messed up state and he can't blame him for wanting to stand up for what's right, even if it does sound like a lot for one guy to try to achieve on his own. But he can appreciate the spirit of the proposal, even if the details need to be worked out.

"Lotta people don't seem to mind it," he points out after a little thought. Not to try to poke a hole in Jacob's plans, just airing on what he's observed. "Seems like some even like it this way. Might not be just the people in charge you gotta deal with."

Jacob isn't so sure about that, but Hellboy's words give him pause, a moment of uncertainty. But then again, there isn't any other examples of how things could be, no options.

"I don't think they realise it doesn't have to be this way." He says, "We've come from outside. We know that this isn't right. We know there are other options."

He shifts, pulling the thin blanket up over himself. "Everyone has to have the opportunity to thrive, to be free, to make their own way. You shouldn't need to have a contract with someone else in order to have that opportunity. You don't need permission to be an individual."

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