Workin' nine to five

[neverdied]

WHO: Jack and Rincewind
WHERE: that there fancy Maurtia Falls Psychiatric Hospital for Abnormal Conditions place
WHEN: mid March
WHAT: Jack's recently started a new job as head of security at the same place Rincewind works. It's probably a good time to work out some past issues...
WARNINGS: Mentions of previous attacks? Idk what else yet

[Working security is nothing new to Jack, but being employed by rather than a patient at a psychiatric hospital was certainly something different from what he's experienced in the past. He even got his own small office to hide away in where he could idly space out, staring distantly at the cameras covering the main areas for hours on end, interspersed with slow wanders around the premises and the occasional burst of activity. This kind of work was perfect for him, a man who seems content with doing literally nothing for days on end but capable of snapping into action in the blink of an eye. What a fine choice Chilton had made.

Jack already knew that wizard worked here, he'd seen him on the cameras plenty and passed by that little nameplate on the door more than enough times, but today is the day. Today he's just sane and just bored enough to decide to stop by that office.

The knock on the door is more of a thump of a heavy fist, two hefty bangs and then he's trying the door handle to see if it's locked. This guy isn't exactly polite when it comes to waiting and while he may be considered a vampire, he sure doesn't seem to have any issues about being invited in.]

Comments

[wizzardly]

[traditionally, if you give a wizard a cozy desk chair, chances are good he'll get more sleep than work done. Not one to buck tradition, Rincewind's proving that true this afternoon, head down with arms folded on his desk, drooling onto a piece of paper which hopefully isn't too important. It's difficult to tell, given the controlled mess of his office. EPHRAIM RINCEWIND is scrawled across a glitter-decorated (and possibly handmade) nameplate on a desk currently occupied by scattered files, a box of croutons, and a coffee mug decorated with the image of a penguin holding a balloon, and which itself holds only a single, soggy teabag. Against the wall rests a short bookcase, filled with books whose titles suggest someone is desperately trying to understand medicine and psychiatry, and atop it sits a single, small plant which is both surprisingly real and even more surprisingly not dead. Rather than framed pictures or motivational posters, the walls have been decorated with plastic glow-in-the-dark stars, held in place by long strips of tape.

There is also a sack of potatoes in the corner. Half appear to be missing.

Rincewind awakes (as he often does) with a short scream as Jack knocks, startled into banging his foot against the side of the Luggage, which had been sleeping beneath his desk. It snaps at his pant leg irritably, which at least prevents both the wizard and his chair from rolling back into the wall and dislodging a star. He's about to yell an inquiry into who needs him and for what - when Jack just lets himself in.

Rincewind freezes. He stares. He gives what may be an entirely involuntary yell of panic, and then very voluntarily picks up his cute coffee mug and hurls it at Jack's face.]

[neverdied]

[There really isn't much time to take in the splendour of the decor before there's a mug hurtling straight for him, something entirely to be expected he supposes considering their previous encounters, but something that still startles him almost as much as he startled the wizard. Of course, Jack's look of surprise is very much like all of his other looks; straight faced, lowered brows and the general aura of hoping for the sweet embrace of death at any moment. Even his quick deflection of the mug to the face somehow manages to look like the most morose lift of an arm ever, tattooed forearm taking the impact of the hit before the tacky object clatters to the floor, teabag and all.

With a soft grunt of effort he bends forward, scooping it back up and taking a second to glance at the penguin and it's balloon, giving his thoughts on the design with a succinct upper lip curl. Not exactly to his tastes, but neither is the rest of this abomination of an office.]

Now I know where you work. [He points out dully, innocent enough except for the whole fact he tried to eat Rincewind that one time.

And yes, he's still on the alert for Luggage. He's not letting that thing get the jump on him again.]

[wizzardly]

[Rincewind's already bounded up and back against the wall, holding his half-empty bag of potatoes in the manner of a man who isn't sure if root vegetables can harm an immortal cannibal, but is willing to find out.]

What - ? [he gawps at Jack.] You already knew where I worked, we've been working in the same building for more than a week now!

[Rincewind would flail his arms to gesture more emphatically, but that would require dropping his potatoes. Imaginations will just have to be used.

At the continued commotion, the Luggage finally, lazily, heaves itself up from under Rincewind's desk to come around and see what the commotion is, banging itself into the desk legs and chair with a complete lack of care. It stops somewhere around the bookcase, staring implacably across the carpeting at this new head of security. Remembering.

Then it hunkers down, tucking all its feet beneath itself like a cat settling into a furry loaf by a furnace. If it's thinking about being aggressive, it's doing an excellent job at hiding it.

Rincewind sees this and snarls at the chest, only to then lift and redirect a more exasperated look Jack's way.]

What are you even doing working here? At a hospital, of all places!

[neverdied]

Oh. [Slightly disappointed because dammit Rincewind, you're not meant to acknowledge that Jack's had an entire week to do this and he's only just gotten around to it. Look, he's been busy watching people on the camera instead. That's far more entertaining than stalking a wizard and much less effort. And involves a whole lot less whining too.

Rincewind and his potatoes don't get much attention anyway, it's the movement from under the desk that catches Jack's gaze, watching with interest as that wooden chest from before shuffles out, eyes him back, and hunkers down. Curious box, that, and especially interesting thanks to being stuck in it for a few days. That complete departure from reality while inside had been rather appealing, a void of darkness and little concept of time. Might just be as close to death as Jack will ever get.

Worth keeping that thing around, for definite.]

Doctor Chilton asked me. [He answers dully, dragging his attention back to the potato laden wizard, apparently content to just stand by the doorway and make no attempt of attack.]

Needed some security. I needed money. You don't approve?

[wizzardly]

He asked you?

[there's a fact to make a man drop his bag of potatoes. One rolls free from the sack, only to promptly find new lodging inside the Luggage. It licks its lid contently.]

I thought you'd - or that maybe it was - [Rincewind put a hand to the side of his head, feeling the beginnings of a headache.] But he asked you?

[even after what Rincewind had told him - after what he'd told Rincewind! The wizard knew Chilton had some unhealthy fascination with dangerous people, of course, you don't get to know the psychiatrist for any length of time and stay ignorant of that, but somehow Rincewind thought part of it was unconscious, the way he seemed to attract them into his company and employ; somehow he'd thought Chilton at least wouldn't go out and ring one up with a starting salary.]

And so I'm really expected to believe that you - that you're here to protect the people here? And working here.

[particularly people like Rincewind, who has a firm suspicion that if he were attacked in the hospital, Jack would be more concerned with finding a place to sit and watch than lending a hand.]

[neverdied]

[Such a low opinion of Jack this wizard has, and all because of one single, tiny little incident of almost being eaten. How victimised Jack is feeling right now.]

Guess so. [Emphasised by a hefty shrug of a shoulder.] You either believe it or you don't. Doesn't really matter to me.

[It may surprise Rincewind to find that Jack's quite the dedicated little worker when he puts his mind to it. Although there's little care held for any of the employees or patients within the facility, he likes a job done properly and will undoubtedly keep this place as safe and smooth as he's able to. When it suits him, anyway. Somedays the temptation of chaos is all a little too much.

Speaking of chaos, he's still far more focused on that wooden chest than anything the wizard has to say, head tilted in curiosity as he takes a few steps towards it and drops into a crouch like he's approaching a dog. And what a cute dog it is.] Your boss seems to think I'll do a good enough job. You'll just have to trust his decision. Or don't.

[wizzardly]

It wouldn't, would it. [snipes Mr. Sourpuss, giving Jack a judgemental look-over.] Nothing seems to.

[the benefit, he supposes, of being at the top of the food chain. The real top, which up til now Rincewind had thought only the Luggage could occupy.

It takes to Jack's crouching with some interest, one leg and then ninety more unfurling and lifting it up like some curious, mutant spider. It seems wary for a moment, in the same way a person who's suffered food poisoning will side-eye a plate of airport sushi, but it's not a long moment. The Luggage is adaptable, for a suitcase, and never keen to appear incapable.

Rincewind tenses as it skitters over, waiting for the inevitable battle and already planning how best to vault over his desk and out the door - but there's no snap of hinges. Instead the Luggage stands at Jack's lowered level, lid shut, anticipatory and patient.

Maybe, he thinks, remembering a certain hotel owner, it's waiting for a caramel.]

...It's not so much about trust, in this case. [is Rincewind's eventual answer, watching this interaction unfold with exasperated acceptance.] The thing of it is, Dr. Chilton's the sort of person who sees beauty in dangerous things.

He's the sort to comment on, say, the appealing curve a fang's got. ...Which is all well and good when you're only looking at pictures.

[he gives Jack a meaningful look.]

[neverdied]

[Oh, what a cute little magical, deadly wooden puppy it is. The moment it's clear no aggression is shown (or as clear as it can be when trying to read a literal piece of luggage) Jack closes the remaining gap with an outstretched arm and gives a few solid pats to the closed lid. Good dog, such a perfect little murder chest.]

I don't have fangs. [He decides to comment, fully aware that that's not at all the point Rincewind is trying to make. Honestly Jack doesn't really care whether Chilton's employed him because he wants the security, has a thrill of danger, or the biggest man crush on his immortal ass, all Jack cares about is he's getting a steady income that'll keep him at least vaguely comfortable.

Also... what are you meant to do after petting a wooden box? This is a scenario he has never come across before...]