directed | IC Inbox - Entranceway

Fifth floor, although I would've expected you to have discovered that for yourself by now.

Are you an idiot?

You. Go. Bar.

[Rip is on the verge of asking what he should have assumed, but Mick answer that question readily enough.

…It honestly doesn’t do much to make him less confused, however. Which is why his next text takes a bit longer than it normally would.]

Alright. Now?

Yep, already there.

Near the back, come find me.

[Seeing no need to reply further, Rip heads out as requested. Really, it’s the least he can do, given that he’s called similar meetings before—although not at the bar. More than curious about what Mick might have to discuss, Rip makes his way down the halls and up the stairs in short order. As promised, Mick sits in an isolated spot near the back of the bar, though he’s a bit surprised to see the man drinking alone.

Well. No doubt Leonard is on his way. Possibly Raymond or Lisa too.]

Here as requested. [Rip drops into the seat across from Mick, then takes a look around.] Should I assume the others will be arriving shortly?

[Mick grunts a little and slides a glass over to Rip. Whiskey, he assumed he'd be into that. It was a pretty nice brand actually, the vintage wasn't bad either. Mick had beer, no shock there, he takes a long swig of it before levelling Rip a look.]

There aren't any others. I didn't invite them. [He huffs a little laugh.] Just me and you, cap. Got a problem with that?

[Well, the contents of the glass don't exactly look suspicious--and more to the point, Rip somehow doesn't see Mick as the type to drug someone in such a subtle manor. Still, it doesn't quite click until Mick points out the error in Rip's logic: the man has actually asked him here for his company.

Speaking of things Rip wouldn't have thought to expect.]

...No. No problem at all, actually. [He takes the glass so generously provided, raising it up for a slow sip. It actually is quite good, leaving Rip impressed.] Although I'm a bit surprised. I hadn't realized we'd achieved the status of "drinking buddies."

I got Snart issues lately and haircut can't shut so I'm trying something out here.

[Yes, he had a lot of issues with the Snarts at the moment given his mixed Leonard feelings and his worry about Lisa and discussing depressing stuff all the time and Ray? Well, he just wasn't good at the whole quietly drinking with his friend and talking stuff out calmly and easily without getting over-excited and bonding too hard. That left Mick with Rip.

This could potentially be dodgy and backfire a lot but he's mostly kind of curious.] We gotta co-exist, right? Is there a better way to do that then not be sober?

[Some might take the process of elimination Mick had employed as a form of insult, but really? It does clarify that last piece of the puzzle for Rip, so he can take it in stride. If anything the, fact that he made the list at all is likely a positive sign.

Mick is willing to try, which is more than could be hoped for when Rip first arrived. And besides--there is a certain allure to drinking, especially in the wake of the intense dreams they've had over the past few days.

So after a moment's thought, Rip raises his glass--not to take a drink this time, but rather in agreement.]

To co-existing, then.

[Mick tilts his beer towards Rip as if to agree with him, slowly taking a sip of it afterwards. He wasn't much of a talker in moments like this, it wasn't much of a secret, and he didn't talk much for a while after the toast.

It wasn't until he'd nearly finished his beer that he looked at Rip and made a small grunt to get his attention.]

How's the deal with the devil working out for you? [There's a beat before he leans in almost playfully.] Has he got to first base yet?

Edited 2017-02-25 17:48 (UTC)

[It actually works out rather well at first; Rip is quite capable of sipping the his whiskey and losing himself both in thought and stray observation. The bar does provide quite a different scene from his room, where Rip would normally spend his time drinking, entirely on his own and with nothing more than memories or whatever bits of technology he is attempting to piece together at the time.

He's almost convinced that this is how Mick means to pass their entire time drinking together when the man lets out a grunt. Accordingly, Rip turns his attention towards the man, only to scoff lightly at his choice of phrasing.]

You do realize he and I have entered into an alliance, not an affair. [Rip reaches for the bottle, the whiskey in his glass rather low by this point.] As for how it's going--that's rather an interesting question.

[Especially given his last conversation with Eobard, wherein the man openly wondered if they truly did stand as enemies.] Although I dread opening the door I'm no doubt about to, I think...he's starting to like me. And not in a suggestive manner, Mr. Rory.

[Best to cut off those assumptions before they can take root.]

When I first arrived, he made it clear we were enemies, even as he hoped we might work together. Yet recently he admitted that those lines had become somewhat blurred for him.

Or he's just saying that.

[Mick shrugs a little, he's not going to get too in depth with this thing. Like they said before, Rip would do whatever Rip wanted to do and they couldn't stop him and yeah, they'd help his ass out if he fucked up but Mick didn't want to open that whole can of worms again.

He's just curious how badly it's going. From the sounds of it? This Eobard geek is gonna pull. Hands down.] He does that. Ask the little dork about it some time. Apparently he loved him 'like a son' but he still killed him. Seems like he played with his head a lot first. Sounds to me like a stand up guy to do business with.

[Mick shrugs his shoulders.] I remember doing business with dodgy dealers. Snart always said not to and I always did cause I could handle it. And I always got burned.

[Unsurprisingly, Rip's first instinct is to rebuff Mick's assessment simply based on the fact that the man hadn't been there. Rip had, and he's naturally inclined to trust his own observations. Yet this isn't their first go-round with this brand of conversation. Mick had listened in when Rip spoke to Druce, warned him even then that the Time Master's intentions were far from good.

And Rip had far more reason to believe in Druce than he does in Eobard.]

"The little dork?" [As endearing as Mick's nicknames are, in this case they aren't quite specific enough to tell Rip whom he's referring to.]

I'm aware this is a dangerous prospect, Mr. Rory. [But that does sound rather dismissive, doesn't it? So he smirks towards the man, just for a moment, but genuinely.] Which is why I'm also grateful for your opinion, in this case, to help keep me grounded.

Edited 2017-02-25 19:32 (UTC)

I don't quote my sources.

[He doesn't want to name names to someone in league with the guy who scared his nerd so he wasn't going to. Cisco would be kept out of this, he just making his point. Guys like that used people, he was probably using Rip. Though he supposes even the most fucked up of people ended up liking someone.]

Gotta keep those head out of the clouds. We're a 'team', right? [Everyone kept acting like it and while Mick wants to resist and he has a lot of bitterness in that area, he knows these people and they have history. It's hard to avoid them.] This Eobard guy... Does he look like he could take me? [Important question. Speed aside, just generally, he was curious.]

As you wish, then.

[Rip would simply have to remain curious. It isn't something he can ask others about without raising suspicion, either on the part of Barry Allen and his assorted friends or Eobard himself--and Mick is likely not going to be any less stubborn than normal while intoxicated.

Moving on, then.]

I would like to think so, yes. [Although Rip has seen the fissures as they've formed, and not just between himself and Mick. Leonard and Raymond have their problems as well, and Mick earlier on declared he had "Snart issues."

Still. Rip would like to have faith.

Which, funnily enough, is easier to come by when Mick prompts him to make another observation.] I'll assume you mean if his speed weren't a factor, in which case...

I'd say the smart money would be on you.

Edited 2017-02-26 02:33 (UTC)

Thought so.

[Mick smirks because his ego needed that. He needed to know he could crush that speedy bastard if he had to. Mick picks up his drink and finishes it off, sliding the bottle aside and pulling out another.]

I mean, you know, I get it. You and him. Danger can sometimes be a turn on and you strike me as someone a little kinky. [He shrugs. Yes, this is Mick empathising. ~~And trolling.~~] Bet it hits a lot of those buttons.

[Cheers to a boost of confidence, then. Of course, Mick immediately follows it up with innuendo-laden implications about what might be going on between him and Eobard, leaving Rip to hide a groan behind a swallow of his drink.]

I assure you, there is nothing between Mr. Thawne and I that isn’t strictly professional. [A statement which alone might not prompt Mick to drop this particular line of inquiry. Well. Since they are being honest—]

And beyond that, I do still consider myself married, Mr. Rory—all circumstances aside.

[The certainty of Miranda’s death, of Jonas’, does nothing to change Rip’s view of himself as a husband and father, even if he is ultimately a failure at both.]

That's what they all say when they're doing someone they shouldn't. From presidents to horny pervs, everyone lies about who they're nail and say it's 'professional'.

[Mick's just goading him, as always, it's kind of funny to watch his face make that sort of 'oh dear God' expression and can he be blamed for provoking it out of him? His hate for Rip had cooled a lot but he still enjoyed tormenting him.]

Seriously? You're still 'married'? [Wasn't his chick dead? Huh] Is that like a timey thing or are you just not aware that widows are a thing? Is that not a concept in the future?

Yes, well. Congratulations then. You've met the one exception to the rule.

[Rip's starting to pick up on the fact that he's being pushed, but on this topic he'd really rather not indulge. Especially not after his confession which earns less sympathy from Mick than he might have hoped. Rip's gaze shifts to a harmless spot in the distance, his posture growing tense.

Perhaps this is a mistake after all.]

I know what I am, Mr. Rory. [Widower being the technical term. Yet Rip has not brought himself to speak it aloud.] It is a concept we have, yes. But that hardly changes the fact--

[That he loved Miranda more than anything else in time and space, except perhaps their son.

That with them he'd found a happiness beyond compare, one worth betraying the Time Masters for long before he knew they'd betrayed him first.

That she had shown him love before he could even begin to fathom what it truly meant--

Rip sucks in a sharp breath. The thought plays in his mind, that Mick likely doesn't know which parts of their mission they'd succeeded in, and which they failed. It is that awareness which keeps him seated.]

My loyalty and my heart both belong to my wife. Her death does not change that.

[Mick supposed that made sense really, you didn't stop loving someone just because they died. They were still almost alive in your head and you could still think of the future and things you wanted to do together, even if you couldn't. He remembered all the mornings when he was younger, lying in bed like all lazy teenagers did, expecting his mom to burst in any moment and yell at him for still not being awake.

Even though he knew, he always knew he'd killed her, left her in that house to burn. He couldn't forget what he'd done, not ever, not for a moment and yet it was like the two things could exist in tandem.

And he got feeling with Leonard now, was this how it was? He was both alive and dead and Mick felt a strange hollowness about that. If he ever left here, Leonard would be gone, they had no real future, they could make no plans or expect much. They were just stuck now, never going forward.

Mick slowly takes a sip of his drink and nods his head, silent for a while as he mulls it over himself.]

Death doesn't take them from you, it just means they haunt you. Not like an actual ghost but they hang over you, you can't shake it. [He guessed that was weird really, that he pays more notice to people he lost than those around him.] It's not like they're stuck, you're stuck. You can't move forward. It's dumb, really but what are you gonna do? All your plans are aimed forward and they can't go with you.

[Rip resumes his drinking as Mick drawls out his thoughts on the matter. Though they are perhaps not the most eloquently phrased, the man is hardly wrong in his assessment. Rip is haunted by the memories of his wife and son, but there is a deeper truth to that: he wants to be. It is why he's spent countless hours in his office staring at their pictures, or watching that final message he received from Miranda and Jonas before Savage found them.

His son asking him to come home soon.

Miranda's veiled disappointment when she said she'd expected him back already. She didn't want him to feel guilty for the delay--

God, she was a far better woman than Rip ever deserved.]

That's the thing, Mr. Rory. I don't want to "shake it." [He doesn't want to merely cast aside his feelings for them, although he's equally aware that the process is hardly so simple as that.] I know that in the end I will move forward, because that is what people do. It is the heart of our existence: to continue on, in spite of all things.

But when I do--[He swallows.]--when I do. I fear that is the moment I will have truly lost them both.

Cause you blame yourself, that's why. You can't move on when you blame yourself.

[Mick knows a thing or two about that. He's lived it himself, first his parents and now Leonard. Yes, he blames himself for Leonard, he doesn't know the full details, he just knows that he shouldn't have let him die. No matter what. Leonard was dead and he'd failed. That was on him, it was always on him if he failed Leonard.]

That's what guilt does to you. Makes you stuck because you know you could have done something different. It ain't like a heart attack or an accident, it's on you.

[Mick pulls out his lighter and lights it up, idly watching the flame as he sets it onto the table, sipping his beer as he does so.]

What if I had woke them up and told them? What if I hadn't of come home that night? What if I just left the lighter fluid alone? What if you stopped him in the first place from boarding the ship? You ask yourself a lot of questions but in the end, you did it. And you gotta live with it. [Even if the guilt rots away at you, consumes you, keeps you up at night. Mick has accepted his, he's learned to hate himself, to embrace what a monster he is, he can't give Rip any advise he could use or feel good about.

He does look at Rip for a moment, breaking his eyes away from the fire.]

You didn't do it. Take it from someone's who did it, who made that mistake, always makes that mistake. Your guilt is -- fuck, what's the world? [Mick frowns for a moment and groans in frustration, words lodged in his head.] Misplaced? I guess.

It's your lover and your boy, you're gonna hate yourself, even if you did everything. And given you fucked with time to save them, you pretty much did. [But sometimes you can't change what happens.] I don't think you can save them. And I ain't saying that to be a dick, that's just like.

Ask me, ask Leonard, ask anyone. Life fucks with you, even if you fuck with it.

Edited 2017-03-05 18:09 (UTC)

[He isn't wrong. Rip does indeed blame himself, in every way he can find. It doesn't matter that the guilt is illogical--that he had not only been fighting against Vandal Savage and time itself, but the Time Masters, the Oculus, the very manipulation of the universe until that one outcome was guaranteed to happen, over and over, no matter what Rip Hunter might have done to prevent it.

That knowledge does nothing to absolve him of what Rip sees now and forever as his sin.

He watches Mick in silence as the man fills the air with his own questions, each as burning as the flame he presents. Rip already has some context for this; perhaps it is an unfair advantage, but their journey back through time thanks to the Pilgrim has allowed him to see the night Mick speaks of.

Still, he hadn't known everything. He certainly never would have guessed that Mick carries that weight in his heart.

There's a flicker of a grin as Mick tries to console him. It's a thoughtful effort, if still futile in the end. So much of it is, and Rip huffs out a sound not unlike a laugh, though far more bitter than one should be.]

You aren't wrong, I'm afraid. [Not even about who is truly to blame, even if Rip's guilt is far more stubborn than swayed by his words. He taps his fingers lightly on the table, judging, debating as always.

But in the end, the death of his family is set. There is nothing that can be done to change it.]

I didn't save them. In spite of every effort, every sacrifice, Vandal Savage still slaughtered my wife and child. Even if I were to return home and succeed in putting an end to the man--[And there are indications that they will, thanks to Ray.]--it is too late for my family.

Miranda and Jonas are dead.

Look at it this way, you avenged them. And you got a chance to try, that's more than most people get. You tried all you could and you still lost but you tried.

[Mick places his hand over the flame, close enough that it burns gently into the soft skin of his palm, holding it there without even flinching. Fire barely hurt these days, it had an immunity. Not like when he was a kid, young, guilty and struggling with how he felt about anything, when he'd light matches and burn himself, it'd hurt a lot more back then. These days his hands are used to it, he can barely feel it.]

Besides, knowing all the weird sci-fi bullshit that goes on these days, maybe someone will clone them or time will undo events or something. All those cliches.

[All he knew from sci-fi stuff was that it was weird, unpredictable and usually ended horribly.

He pauses for a moment before leaning forward, looking at Rip expectantly but with a hint of a smile. Just to detour off the topic a little, he has to wonder.] So, tell me, are chest bursters real? Like in Alien. Does that shit happen? Like am I gonna have an alien rip out of my chest one day?

[Horrible and scary but seriously, what a way to go.]

Edited 2017-03-05 18:32 (UTC)

Except I haven't done so yet, Mr. Rory. Vandal Savage still breathes in the point I've been pulled from.

[And that makes all the difference. No matter how many reassurances Raymond might provide, no matter how many of them might be drawn from a future where Savage is dead and gone forever, until Rip experiences it for himself? To him it will remain in the future, and thus able to be changed. He cannot think any other way, regardless of how much evidence there is that what he knows in Wonderland will not affect the outcome.

He cannot risk thinking any other way.

By that same token, he cannot fall into some false sense of hope that, as Mick suggests, might be provided by "sci-fi bullshit." The "fi" means "fictional," and while arguably every scientific advancement is a fiction until it is proven fact, even Rip's hope does not spring quite so eternal as that.

It takes a moment, however, to see where Mick is going with this. Even with that small grin, Rip narrows his eyes at the man in confusion at the sudden shift in topic.]

What? [Of course, it doesn't help that Rip also hasn't seen any part of the Alien franchise; he doesn't tend to watch sci-fi movies in general. Too many errors for his tastes, and he's more of a reader besides.]

...No, I--I don't believe I've ever heard of such a thing. [Which sounds positively horrific, for the record.] Although there are extraterrestrial beings. Just not--those.

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