weathertop | darling it's better down where it's wetter

Lack of a sense of humor and his awful stink aside, Jack is probably the most useful travel companion Sinclair could have hoped for in their situation. After a few surprisingly quiet noises of violence, Sinclair pulls himself through the crawl space and stands in the next room.

Which is less of a room and more of a long hallway. It appears to turn a corner towards the other end of it, so Sinclair supposes that is their destination. All of the open doors along it make him a bit nervous though; anything could be in any one of the rooms they're about to pass. There's graffiti covering the walls and doors, some of it political, some of it sexual, some of it both.

But for all the crude messages, the dripping paint and messy lettering, there's something about it that really unsettles him. There aren't so many that it's the first thing you'd notice, but all along the length of the wall, there are these butterflies. They're drawn on with a little more care than the angry smears of protest against Ryan, by different hands. Some are small, some are bigger, but they're all a soft blue and white against the furious red that spans the rest of the hall. He's seen them before in a couple other places, but never as many in one spot. He knows what they are.

This must have been a popular area for splicers at some point, an entire hall full of rooms with beds. But looking through the doors now as they pass them, most of the mattresses are missing from the bed frames. There doesn't appear to be a single room that's livable anymore, they're all full of rubble and crumbling furniture and leaking pipes. It's almost depressing, if Sinclair actually cared about the state of Rapture anymore.

He follows Jack in silence, listening closely for any potential remaining splicers who may have decided that a deteriorating home is better than no home at all.

Jack proceeds carefully, electricity dancing at his fingertips. He's had the same thought as Sinclair about the open doors.

He doesn't pay a lot of mind to the butterflies; maybe someone was trying to brighten up the place. Some of the graffiti does make him flash a quick grin, though. Particularly the one about Andrew Ryan's tiny unsatisfying genitals.

(The word 'penis' is hilarious when you're three.)

Then something gives him pause.

With all the junk and broken mess on the floor, wood, water, shrapnel... their own footsteps aren't exactly silent. But still. There should only be two sets of them.

Jack stops moving, and glances at Sinclair to see if he's heard it too.

Sinclair stops immediately when Jack does, freezes and listens. Somewhere around the corner, the tail end of crunching glass before everything is silent. But he heard it, and he nods at Jack to confirm.

Reaching for his gun, he gestures for Jack to go on ahead. The quiet splicers always seem just a little more dangerous.

Jack nods, with a smile. Time to go be way stronger than a normal splicer again!

He steps forward carefully -- can't keep his own feet from making noise on the infinite layers of debris, but he does almost certainly have power on his side, even without the element of surprise. He reaches the corner, hugging the wall, and readies a shot of Electrobolt.

Then he peers around it, aims and------

------it's a human.

A human with a revolver pointed straight at his ugly, smelly face.

Tenenbaum, too, expected splicers.

Or... splicers that weren't him, at least. Although if he's here, that might confirm a theory she has about the window-shuddering crash that went down some number of hours ago. It definitely seemed to be a failed escape attempt by someone, and why not Rapture's latest big man on campus?

Her mouth tightens. Even out of contact, she expected to run into him sooner or later. Rapture is an unfortunate place, after all.

"Jack."

She does not move her finger off the trigger.

He can't see around the corner, but he hears a woman's voice. One word, but she's got an accent...something European, but he'd have to hear more to know where specifically. Anyway, whoever it is, she's definitely not a splicer. And more surprising than that, she...knows Jack?

Sinclair watches Jack's face for a moment, trying to determine how safe it would be to step out and look at her. He doesn't seem to be afraid, he looks. Well. He looks the way he did when Sinclair first approached him himself, only perhaps a little less uncertain.

But he doesn't pick up any signs of immediate danger, so he walks out beside Jack.

...He knows this woman. He's seen her face before, but he can't place a name.

"Have we met?" he asks with a friendly enough smile.

Because she was definitely talking to him.

...Well, that's a turn-up for the books. He may not know her face, but she's seen his plastered across enough businesses.

"I was not speaking to you." And there, that's more than enough time and attention spent on Sinclair. Back to Jack.

"So this is the company you are keeping now."

Hanging around with the guy who sold them those Big Daddy candidates, it's almost like Jack is going back to his roots.

...Ow, okay, she hurt herself with that one.

What has two thumbs and absolutely no idea how to proceed with this interaction?

All right, he's over the surprise. I mean this isn't outside the realms of possibility. Even though he does have a hard time picturing her actually leaving her safehouse.

He still kind of wants to hurt her for abandoning him as soon as Fontaine was killed.

Instead, he says:

"You might shoot me by accident if you've got your finger there."

What? He doesn't like getting shot.

Of course he knows that. She remembers teaching him that, from the laundry list of weapons skills and safety procedures Fontaine drew up for them.

That was a long time ago.

She shakes her head, not looking away from him.

"You assume it would be an accident?"

Sinclair is sensing a bit of tension here.

"I know you from somewhere," he says. If he can place her, he may have a better idea of how to go about the situation they're in right now. Her tone implicated that she knows him as well, but that doesn't surprise him. He's become something of a household name in recent years.

Her tone also implicated that perhaps she doesn't really like him. That doesn't particularly surprise him either.

"Doctor Tenenbaum," supplies Jack helpfully.

He doesn't say it super fondly, but his voice doesn't quite reach the level of cold contempt that Tenenbaum's is achieving.

No shit, this tone takes practice.

Tenenbaum doesn't contradict him. Sinclair will certainly be familiar with her... work; he may also know her from popular literature as 'that broad who went crazy and threw away a prosperous career to be a fugitive and occasionally steal Little Sisters'. It doesn't matter. She's ceased to care what Rapture thinks of her.

"Doctor Tenenbaum, of course!" He says, snapping his fingers. "I ought to know you anywhere, my apologies." He keeps his tone warm, sincere. It's the truth, though. This is the woman who made almost all of this plasmid business possible. Without her work in the labs, Sinclair's not sure what he'd be doing right about now.

"I would introduce myself, but it sounds like that won't be necessary. What brings you all the way out to this lovely corner of Rapture?"

Maybe Jack isn't in a position to be amicable (is he ever?), but Sinclair can at least try his shot at friendly conversation.

Wow. Wooowwww. This is so not friendly conversation, Sinclair, please don't try to pretend that there is anything amicable here.

Ugh. Fine, she'll address his question, since he seems so intent on inserting himself into this mexican standoff they have going.

"A sphere crashed into this building tonight." Wouldn't know anything about that, now, would you boys? "It has been... some time since I saw an escape attempted. So I am taking a look."

She doesn't exactly have a lot of firepower, so staying informed is her secret to staying alive.

Uh... is Sinclair going to acknowledge that Jack's being held at gunpoint at point blank range? By a lady who's not following proper gun safety? Anyone?

"That was us," he says, in hopes that if he's helpful enough she'll put the damn thing down.

It's not what he wants to say to her, but what he wants to say he can't really say in front of Sinclair without giving away more of his past than he wants to. So he's containing himself. With difficulty.

Oh come on, it's not like he'll die if she shoots him. That part's not really a priority. And it doesn't have to be an unfriendly conversation, as far as Sinclair knows, he hasn't done anything to personally wrong this woman. That doesn't say a whole lot, but come on, give him a chance.

Sinclair nods, picking up Jack's explanation. "Tried to take a bathysphere out of here...may have miscalculated a couple things.

Listen to your latest daddy, Jack. Think of it like someone stomping on your foot, only the someone is a bullet and your foot is your stinky as hell face.

"Lucky that both of you lived."

It's... almost got the slight lifted note of a question.

Jack opens his mouth to correct her, then realises that she might've been trying to be subtle or something and hesitates (still with his mouth open).

Glances for direction at Sinclair (with his mouth closed for this one).

Yes, he fumbles this easy conversational pass in pretty much all respects.

"At least we were lucky about something," he laughs.

There are a few other things he could have said to that, but he's not quite sure how much detail is necessary here, and he's learned from experience that when it's a question of candor, less is often still more than what actually needs to be said.

And where Jack is prepared to take over for Sinclair in a gun fight, Sinclair is more than willing to take up for him in a conversation. Even if he lacks the intel to have anything close to the upper hand here.

Thank an illegal god for Sinclair.

Jack opts to let the adults talk for now, struggling to bite his tongue, and giving Tenenbaum a long, baleful look. For all that Sinclair's infinitely better at this kind of thing, he kind of wishes he'd run into Tenenbaum in private.

Wow, Jack, nice catch. Really. That was impressive.

Tenenbaum considers her position.

She's learned what she came here to learn: who made an attempt to get out of Rapture, and whether they came out of it alive. And yet she's not particularly comfortable with her answers. Somehow, when she pictures the world she wants her girls to grow up in, it doesn't include these two. A man who trafficks in people and another who kills children aren't her ideal neighbours. And Jack at least won't be stopped by fatal failures.

If only he'd turned out differently. If only he'd not grown into...

...well. Exactly what he was designed to.

That one's on her, and she accepts it. But she also can't help but feel like she's given him more than enough chances. And it's hard not to assume that his silence means he has nothing to say for himself.

But back to the current issue. Sinclair wants this to be a congenial conversation; perhaps she should make some attempt at that, maybe learn a little of their further plans.

Reluctantly, she takes her finger off the trigger and rests it safely on her pistol's barrel.

"Escape from this city is a dangerous undertaking."

She directs this comment to Sinclair. Looking at Jack is making her stomach turn.

"Looks like we learned that the hard way," Sinclair says, relaxing a little more as Tenenbaum eases up on the gun. "Ryan's defense system's a little rusty but it still does the job."

Meanwhile, standing around in the middle of a probably splicer infested hospital wing is making him anxious. Not the best way to have any sort of conversation, good or bad. But somehow inviting Tenenbaum back to Olympus Heights with them just doesn't seem like the right move yet. He really needs more information.

"So you caught us," he grins, raising his hands defensively. "Escape attempt was a bust." And he leaves it at that, with an implied "what now?"

The defenses are still up? Oh gott. That's useful information already. It's nice to not have to find that out first-hand.

She keeps the flicker of worry from her face.

"Since you stop to chat, I assume we are not in danger of the sea washing us away." A glance in the direction they came, still outwardly unworried -- which is a surprisingly easy ruse when her face is quite willing to look stony.

"Ha! That was an adventure," he says, "we made it out just in time, managed to put a bulkhead between us and the flood before it caught us." Conveniently leaving out the whole drama of thinking he'd gotten Jack killed. Again, that falls under the category of excess information, and the whole mess with the Vita Chambers is even more so.

Jack glances at him for just a moment. Apparently he's a bad liar even when other people are doing the lying.

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