[closed] Missing: One Irishman

[bigbadbasher]

WHO: Sebastian Moran (bigbadbasher ) and Jim Moriarty (sneakyshoes )
WHAT: Finding each other again.
WHERE: Orlea
WHEN: 5/1
WARNINGS: Language, Sebastian likes his four-letters. Also very likely talking about violence and suicide.

Sebastian glanced down at his phone again, following the drawn map a certain stranger had been kind enough to give him. He was close to the area she'd indicated. That is, if he was reading it right. He turned on the spot, looking around and around.

"Come on, Jim, where are you," he muttered, looking down at the phone again. Gotta be here somewhere, you son of a bitch. A little way off, he spotted a bench. A bench with a figure on it. He took a step closer, lowering his phone.

"Boss?" he called.

Comments

might be talks of violence and or suicide too bb

[sneakyshoes]

Slowly, Jim raises his head, dead eyes glancing at Sebastian. Something clicks in his mind and he leans forward on the bench, cocking his head, clutching his phone to his chest.

"You came.."

[bigbadbasher]

Sebastian all but sprints to where Jim is.

"Jesus Christ, Jim, you've had me outta my goddamn mind." He doesn't know where to start, he looks so frail and small and lost.

"Where are we goin', what do you need me to do?"

[sneakyshoes]

".. Dunno."

He stares at Sebastian, blinking repeatedly as he tries to remember more about this man. Things flit in and out without really sticking: tigers and guns, maybe? and a man on a rooftop with something to prove, and that woman Porrim (something was off about her), and his phone and this place and-

It gets to be too much, and Jim shuts his eyes tight for a moment, taking a breath.

"I don't..." He glances, tired, up at Sebastian, like he's going to have all the answers. "I don't know, I dunno.."

[bigbadbasher]

Sebastian just stares for a few moments. Jim is always supposed to have the answers. Seeing him at a loss is never easy, but this is different. He seems paralyzed. A vague panic wells up in his chest, but he breathes through it, forcing it down and using adrenaline to fuel his focus.

"We're going to find somewhere to get you cleaned up. You can try to tell me what happened on the way. Can you walk?" God, please let him be able to walk. He's going to look fucking conspicuous indeed if he has to carry Jim.

[sneakyshoes]

"I think so."

He looks at his legs for a moment. His phone is still in his hands, and he clutches it to his chest.

"Yes... maybe.."

[bigbadbasher]

"Alright, come here." He holds out his hand for Jim, intending to act as a crutch to help him along. No matter what his injuries are, in this state it seems best to keep a tight hold on him.

"Can you tell me what hurts? And how you got here?"

[sneakyshoes]

Jim stares at the hand for a long moment. He knows this person makes him feel safe, but does he really know that? Is it fact, or just his head trying to fill in blanks he doesn't have the prompts to? He hesistates, reaching up at first but pulling his hand away again, and finally decides to trust him. He told Porrim this man would keep him safe. It all should be okay.

He's very careful upon standing. His feet feel far away and his head is alternating between pounding violently and going numb. "Head," he mumbles. "Dunno." Jim clutches tightly to his phone again.

There's blood on the back of his head and neck, mostly dried, but he doesn't seem to notice.

[bigbadbasher]

Hell. He can sort out some basic injuries, but head trauma is a little out of his league.

"Did that prick Holmes do this to you? Because I swear to fucking Christ I'll cut his lungs out and feed 'em to him."

He helps Jim along and glances around the street. He may have to settle for the bathroom of one of the shops.

[sneakyshoes]

"Holmes."

Name sounds familiar. He can't remember. There was a man on a roof with a purpose.

"Dunno."

He follows Seb with not much difficulty; the longer he's here, the clearer his head gets, and the easier it is to walk. He vaguely remembers choosing that particular bench out of a desperation to stop almost falling, but now it's simple enough to follow in a mostly straight line.

"Can't remember." Just the taste of gunmetal and a rooftop. "Holmes?"

[bigbadbasher]

"Yeah, Holmes." Fuck, this is going to be difficult if he doesn't even remember Holmes.

Suddenly, something he hadn't considered pops into his head.

"D'you know who I am?"

[sneakyshoes]

Oh, no. Oh dear. He'd been hoping he wouldn't be asked.

"...Tiger?" he asks quietly, voice heavy with shame.

[bigbadbasher]

Shit. Fuck shit fuck.

"You can call me that. My name is Sebastian. I..." Christ, how to even begin? "I work for you. Bodyguard. And a lot of other shit. It's complicated." Isn't that the goddamn truth.

Sebastian notices a little cafe that seems busy enough that they can slip in without anyone giving them too much trouble.

"Let's get in here, okay? Try to act natural."

[sneakyshoes]

"Natural," he echoes quietly, focusing more on the information he's been given. Sebastian the Bodyguard, who has something to do with tigers. It's complicated. What does that mean? Is it important? It sounds important.

"Why are we here..?"

[bigbadbasher]

"Just want to check you out and get you cleaned up if I can. Rather not do it in the middle of the street, y'know?"

Sebastian maneuvers easily through the little cafe, making minimal eye contact and heading straight for the bathroom.

"D'you know who you are?"

[sneakyshoes]

"Okayyy..."

He sits down on the toilet without looking up at Sebastian.

"..Jim. Jim?"

[bigbadbasher]

"Yeah, Jim, that's right." Sebastian fusses over Jim, looking him over. He notices the blood. Fuck. It's dry and he's mobile, so it can't be anything life-threatening. Right? He wets a few paper towels and starts to mop up his neck, as gently as he can manage. "Can you tell me your last name?"

[sneakyshoes]

"..No."

His eyes are big and desperate to impress. "...sssorry.."

[bigbadbasher]

"It's alright, Boss. It's Moriarty. Jim Moriarty." The blood's matted in his dark hair. It's more than he thought it was. "Try sayin' it out loud for me, okay?"

[sneakyshoes]

"Jim."

A pause. He watches Sebastian for a moment.

"..Moriarty. Jim Moriarty."

[bigbadbasher]

Sebastian bundles up the bloody paper towels as tight as he can, wraps them up in another couple of dry ones. He knows he needs to look at Jim's head, but he skirts the area like it's electrified.

"Yeah, there you go. Sound right?"

[sneakyshoes]

"Should..."

He moves his head down to help Sebastian get a better angle and sighs.

"..no."

A pause.

"...Not yet."

[bigbadbasher]

Sebastian swallows a hesitation before carefully combing through Jim's hair with his fingers, looking for a wound. It's still hard to find anything. He needs to get Jim properly washed up, shower and all, but right now, he can't find a proper wound. Barely a nick, which wouldn't have bled like this.

"It'll come back to you, Boss. If 'Jim' feels okay, I'll just call you that, okay? And you can call me 'Tiger' if that sounds better."

He pauses.

"We've got to find a place to stay. I don't have a whole lot of fuckin' information on where we are right now, but there's got to be a hotel or somethin'."

[sneakyshoes]

"..the people know. They'll know."

He looks at Sebastian again, big eyes searching his face, desperate. There's got to be something there.

"Sebastian Moran," it clicks into his head suddenly, and he can't stop from blurting it out. "Sebastian Moran. I remember that. Your name."

He frowns. "That is your name.. isn't it?"

[bigbadbasher]

His heart leaps a little when Jim says his name, and he meets his eyes with a little more hope than he'd care to admit.

"... Yeah. That's my name.

He clears his throat quickly and goes to wash his hands.

"Yeah, I'll go talk to someone, find us a place. Don't know what the fuck we're gonna do about money, though."

[sneakyshoes]

"Dunno. People can help. ..job, maybe."