[ It doesn't take long for Jon to open the door, and he offers a playful smile as he does. It'd been a fairly quiet afternoon, and this was just the lift in energy he'd needed. ]
I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not accepting any solicitation at this time. I haven't got the money for any magazines, or... vacuums. [ He starts, clearly joking. ]
Oh, good for you, then. Turns out I'm selling some very affordable 'let me in, you asshole'. [ Gerry smirks. ] Get your ass out of the way, I'm comin' in.
[ Furrowing his brows, he turns to take a look, and follows Gerry's gaze. What was on his desk? Had he left anything on his desk recently? He squints, and catches eye of the odd paper he'd bought some time ago. ]
Oh--- the paper. Carroway was being strange about it, and with how vague the information he had on it was, I thought it safest if I took it before anyone with any strange, odd intentions could possibly do so. I'd meant to ask Cecil what this paper entails, exactly, but just hadn't had the opportunity to just yet. ...Why?
[ Gerry responds with a derisive snort. ] You have exactly five seconds to give me that paper before I kick your ass, Sims, I'm not fucking playing around with you.
I'm not playing with you, listen to me! Reel yourself in for one fucking minute and tell me what is going on with this paper! Because without a proper, threatless explanation, it isn't going fucking anywhere!
[ Gerry is consumed with protective rage and fear. He can't risk telling Jon what it does. He's an Archivist. One far more dedicated to the Beholding than Gertrude, that was for sure. He'd want to test it. Gerry cannot let that happen. Instead, he attempts to shove his way past Jon toward the desk. ]
[ Jon's quick not to let that happen. He wasn't used to nearly as many scraps as Gerry was, sure, but he wasn't completely defenseless, either. And moreover - what was once a flimsy, inoffensive-yet-bizarre scrap was suddenly becoming something of some sort of power--- and something he didn't care to let out of his sight so easily. ]
I'm going to ask you one more time, Gerry. Answer me, or get the hell out of my house.
I'll tell you after you give it to me if you stop being such a dick.
[ He grabs Jon by the front of the shirt and steps closer, making them both keenly aware of their size difference. Gerry is fucking tall and Jon is decidedly not so much. ]
[ In that moment, he panics. His stomach pitted with dread the second hands were truly set upon him. With the fabric at the front of his shirt grabbed, a jolt of a fearful, desperate impulse surged through his mind--- and with it came something that he'd promised to other friends he'd never do again.
A flicker of green, wicked magic shot through his irises, and he spoke, more direct, targeted, his words prying into Gerry's mind. Compulsion yanked at the threads of knowledge denied to him. ]
Let me go and tell me what Lot 37 is and what makes it so direly important to have, now.
[ Gerry scowls and winces as his head aches, his vision swimming and a strange static filling his ears like damaged cassette tape. He grits his teeth in resistance. ]
Go fffff-ffuck yourse-self.
[ The compulsion is too strong. He can't resist it. ]
It's a mind control device. Web-adjacent. Makes him black out and do other people's bidding. He needs it back so that he can be in control of himself again. I'm trying to give it back because he's my fucking boyfriend and I care about him.
[ The compulsion releases him, and he lets out a breath before glaring daggers at Jon. He has never in his life felt so fucking violated, not even when Gertrude put him in that goddamn book. He seethes with anger and outrage and broken trust. ]
[ Taking a much-needed step back, nearly smacking his hip into his desk as he did so, he listened attentively, clearly noting down every detail. Mind control device? In a paper? What was something like that doing here, of all places? What could have created such a thing? There's a million additional questions Jon wants to ask, but he's not even sure that Gerry would know them.
He'd already done enough damage, anyhow.
Looking a blend of surprised, anxious, and ashamed, he reaches over to the desk. It takes only a moment to find Lot 37, tucked absently under a discarded piece of mail, and he passes it over. ]
Yes. Give it to him, and... give him my apologies, if you feel so inclined when you do. I... I didn't know.
[ A pause, a tense silence, before he tries to speak up again. ]
[ He goes to call after him, but any words die in his throat, and he falters. What could he possibly say to right any of that? Gerry wasn't wrong, there certainly was a track record Jon decided to live up to, today. He closes the door gently and sighs.
Suppose he ought to start calling him Gerard again. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not accepting any solicitation at this time. I haven't got the money for any magazines, or... vacuums. [ He starts, clearly joking. ]
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[ With a snicker, Jon steps aside, leaving the door open for Gerry. ]
What's the occasion?
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[ He halts. That piece of paper on the desk. "Lot 37." ]
...Where the fuck did you get that.
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[ Furrowing his brows, he turns to take a look, and follows Gerry's gaze. What was on his desk? Had he left anything on his desk recently? He squints, and catches eye of the odd paper he'd bought some time ago. ]
Oh--- the paper. Carroway was being strange about it, and with how vague the information he had on it was, I thought it safest if I took it before anyone with any strange, odd intentions could possibly do so. I'd meant to ask Cecil what this paper entails, exactly, but just hadn't had the opportunity to just yet. ...Why?
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Give it to me.
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Not until you explain what's going on.
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I'm going to ask you one more time, Gerry. Answer me, or get the hell out of my house.
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[ He grabs Jon by the front of the shirt and steps closer, making them both keenly aware of their size difference. Gerry is fucking tall and Jon is decidedly not so much. ]
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A flicker of green, wicked magic shot through his irises, and he spoke, more direct, targeted, his words prying into Gerry's mind. Compulsion yanked at the threads of knowledge denied to him. ]
Let me go and tell me what Lot 37 is and what makes it so direly important to have, now.
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Go fffff-ffuck yourse-self.
[ The compulsion is too strong. He can't resist it. ]
It's a mind control device. Web-adjacent. Makes him black out and do other people's bidding. He needs it back so that he can be in control of himself again. I'm trying to give it back because he's my fucking boyfriend and I care about him.
[ The compulsion releases him, and he lets out a breath before glaring daggers at Jon. He has never in his life felt so fucking violated, not even when Gertrude put him in that goddamn book. He seethes with anger and outrage and broken trust. ]
...Happy now?
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He'd already done enough damage, anyhow.
Looking a blend of surprised, anxious, and ashamed, he reaches over to the desk. It takes only a moment to find Lot 37, tucked absently under a discarded piece of mail, and he passes it over. ]
Yes. Give it to him, and... give him my apologies, if you feel so inclined when you do. I... I didn't know.
[ A pause, a tense silence, before he tries to speak up again. ]
And Gerry, I'm sor---
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Get bent, Sims. This is exactly what I get for trusting another fucking Archivist.
[ He storms out, plans to hang out all but forgotten. He needs to get this back to Cecil as soon as possible. ]
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Suppose he ought to start calling him Gerard again. ]