Sander F. Cohen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prestopresto) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
weathertop2013-02-20 10:40 pm
prestopresto) wrote in weathertop2013-02-20 10:40 pm
house party bang bang cash register noise
It's the early, sleepy hours of the morning. Even Rapture has to sleep sometime, in fits and starts, and the dusty halls of Sander Cohen's home are finally quiet.
There's a creaking of rotting floorboards, some shuffling, the clearing of a throat.
And then piano music flows throughout the house, as gentle and soothing as a truckful of live mortars crashing into a building.
There's a creaking of rotting floorboards, some shuffling, the clearing of a throat.
And then piano music flows throughout the house, as gentle and soothing as a truckful of live mortars crashing into a building.
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Jack could honestly just go limp as a ragdoll with relief when Cohen actually buys it. Thank god, he seems to be off the hook... Until Cohen keeps going on, and now Jack's wondering just what masterpiece he was apparently making...? And... Cohen was involved at some point...?
okay, okay. Dish, dish was the final product, the pot is obviously what he's working on, and... shit Jack has no idea what's going on. He hated ludicrous metaphors and needlessly cryptic words, why did he think this was a good idea fhglhg.
His smile doesn't falter at all, so fuck you Atlas, Jack could totally act when he had to.
"I wouldn't ever, don't worry," he says, still playing confident. Which should really get him an award since he's still shirtless and minus a shoe [and thinking on it, a sock, too - but he still has his pants! Score one for home], and possibly just talked Cohen down from disciplining him.
[Dish... Dish... Dish... What the hell was Cohen talking about, come on he can figure this out, he hacked a million goddamn locks and safes and machines, this shouldn't be hard...]
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"Then get to your fleet little feet, my moth," he chides. "The party's over now; the dawn is drawing very nigh..."
A paused, and then possibly the most horrifying thing to ever come out of Cohen's mouth #tw: sander cohen, #sander, #cohen
"Unless a little more... inspiration is what you need?"
Did we mention that Jack has nice arms? Okay good just checking.
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WOW OKAY NO RED ALERT RED ALERT NUH UH NOT GOOD NOPE
Jack's grin is a little wider but that's mostly from selfdefensive tightening of the facial muscles and not actual consideration of this p... proposition[ing].
"Ha, no! Got all the inspiration I need, I mean. I wouldn't want to overdo it, right?"
Jack risks kind of leaning back casually, like, he's just totally shifting because he's stiff from a night of piano nesting, not like this was an attempt to get out of Cohen's firm grip, not at all. Ha, hahaha, hahahahahaha!
AHha.
"So I... Better get to work, huh?"
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"Then up, up, out of bed!"
That's easy for Cohen to say; he's high and Jack is stupendously hungover. But his queasy young apprentice is just going to have to suck it up and do what he's told if he doesn't wANT A FISTFUL OF INCINERATE UP HIS CHARMING LITTLE ARSE
:)
"Up, and find your charming young... travel companion." He practically purrs: "Boy~ooooo."
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And find his travel companion. Okay.
The way Cohen says 'boyo' sends a creepy feeling across pretty much every part of Jack's body, so wow, even Cohen's words are getting handsy with him. Yeahahaha, time to go.
The grin is a little tighter, from pain in his head and everywhere, and just... The whole... thing. In general. Yeah. Okay.
"Right, yes sir," he says, in what is absolutely a friendly tone even if his voice is gravelly and he feels like he's going to puke whenever he says a long vowel.
"I'll just... pick him up wherever... We?" he guesses, "left him. Yeah."
Jack takes this moment to look around this room of Cohen's he woke up in, like he's just giving it a nice fond lookover and not like he's trying to figure out where the hell he is.
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He bows deeply, with a flourish that goes through 360 degrees and most of the forms recommended for Airbending.
"Lead the way, young master!" So that he can look at your arse oh the way. "Chop chop! Before he decides to... abscond with your lost articles."
Not that Cohen has any problem with Jack being shirtless. Truth be told, he doesn't usually have to wait this long between recruiting a new personal apprentice and getting the man's clothes off. What an unfortunate sign of the times.
"A man with three shoes might just outrun us!"
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... And then he realizes the only guns he's armed with are his, uh, arms. Which, mind you, are impressive and intimidating as hell, but they weren't bulletproof.
Well, Jack had been waiting for Cohen to turn around so he could get his clothes out of the piano [fortunately, a piano with one shoe couldn't outrun a damn thing]. Maybe he could... Just own up, because if he left his guns there, he'd need to get them quick, so... Jack's just going to... Leeeean over and take a peek under that lid.
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He rests one scarred hand heavily on the lid of the piano.
"Are you an idiot, perhaps? Or even hard of hearing?"
THINK OF AN EXCUSE FAST JACKY BOY
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Then, that nervous little smile of self preservation comes back.
"Just making sure I didn't leave any notes in there."
8D
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"I suppose you also leave the images inside the camera! Go ahead..."
He takes his hand off the piano lid, smiling with an air that suggests he's indulging Jack's childish silliness.
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... Make that weapon. There seems to just be his wrench in there, under his sweater, which he takes too. And his shoe. He quickly slides his shoe and sweater on before Cohen can comment, hopefully, and then he finally listens to Cohen and starts for the door. There! He's doing it, he's going out to, uh, do something about a masterpiece and/or find Atlas! Happy now, Cohen?