onebehind | magician's apprentice | been a hell of a ride but I'm thinking it's time to grow

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magician's apprentice | been a hell of a ride but I'm thinking it's time to grow

Dylan knew, coming out of the hospital if not going in, that getting sober wasn't going to be easy. He knew he'd have bad days and good days and days in between, and every therapist he's seen since then, every meeting he's been to has only reaffirmed that. They'd also armed him with a bag of tricks to deal with everything and everything in between, but -- well, today is one of the bad ones and nothing is helping. He's been pacing the house like a madman for the better part of the day, trying to find something to hold his attention long enough that he can stop thinking about running down to the nearest liquor store. He needs to get out of his skin. He's just shy of calling his sponsor. He needs to get out of the house.

He needs to get out of the house.

Stopping midway through moving a pile of books from one side of the living room to the other, he latches onto that idea and turns it over in his head. He needs to get out of the house.

He's moving again a second later, though this time, it's with a purpose, a clarity he hasn't felt like he's had in hours, days, weeks. He goes to Jack's room, tapping lightly on the door, and then after a beat and once he's been invited in, sticks his head in. Flashing him a smile that's equal parts reassuring and strained (he's fine, they're fine, this is nothing bad, he's just a little jittery, don't mind him), he tells him, "Hey. Pack your shit."

He has an idea. It'll be good for both of them.

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Jack's still not sure where this is going, but he does trust Dylan, so he gets to his feet, too, following him back toward the counter. He blinks a little as the connection deepens, as it settles a little beyond the surface one they normally have.

He blinks again - and then just grins hugely when he gets what Dylan's doing, as that little bit of insecurity he'd had about actually meeting people fades now that he knows he won't be completely lost.

"That's fucking awesome," he says, once they've returned to the table. "Thanks."

Pleased with himself, Dylan sinks back down into his seat, grinning. He tempers his ego with another bite of his food, and as he chews, he gently course corrects the connection to its usual depth.

"I'm not gonna keep it turned on forever, 'cause immersion's a good way to learn -- " Not to mention he's not sure how long he could maintain it like that without straining himself magically, being a human translator a little more taxing than what they share normally. " -- but I figure it might take some of the edge off, when I start showing you off."

Look. Look at his son, Bubu.

Jack nods, returning to what remains of his food as well. There's not a lot left at this point, considering he still eats a little like someone's going to take it from him. "Yeah, it helps, though? Just don't wanna like... fall into the whole... Speaking. English. Like. This. because that shit is annoying as hell."

He's known too many non-white people who were born in the U.S. but still had tourists talk to them that way, like they were stupid.

He doesn't acknowledge Dylan's word choice, doesn't draw attention to the idea that he is something to be shown off but there's a sense that he's pleased by it all the same.

Dylan is by no means a slow eater, either, years of having to inhale the last of a sandwich during a stakeout or a sting taking its toll on him. He at least reigns it in long enough to make cursory use of the sauce he asked for, as not to feel like a wasteful asshole, but he's finishing up, too.

"People," Dylan grunts around a final mouthful, disapproving. "You'll be fine, though."

He pauses, that said, albeit only long enough to glance at his watch, before, "Speaking of. Anytime you wanna get out of here ... "

Jack shrugs, finishing the last of his food and picking up his napkin to wipe his hands off, dropping it onto one of the empty plates once he has. "Whenever? Definitely wanna see more of what's around here."

And yes, he's including the shop in that, but he also won't mind if they look around a little on their way there. He's not really in any rush, just generally excited to be here and experiencing all this.

"Alright, c'mmon."

As they head out, Dylan doesn't immediately head for Long's, having picked up on that sense of curiosity from Jack. Instead, he leads them down the street they started on at a meandering pace, letting Jack take in the storefronts and restaurants as they pass. While this street is nothing like New York or even Vegas, however, as they hit the main thoroughfare, things start to look a little more familiar. It's still different, still foreign, but the streets are wider here, lit with neon and gradually growing busier as time passes. It's a little too clean, too pristine for New York or Vegas, but it's the heart of a big city all the same. Dylan, in spite of himself, dials up the connection again as they walk, so Jack can get a sense of the voice of the city and its people.

Sooner rather than later, they near Long's, and only then does Dylan ask, "So, what'dya think?"

Jack takes it all in with the same awe and curiosity he's had for everything else he's experienced with Dylan. He stops a time or two to look at something more closely, hesitating a moment before he takes his phone out to take a few pictures of various things. He gets more relaxed about that as they go, as he sees other people doing the same thing. He doesn't want to be a gawking tourist - God knows he hates that - but he wants to remember stuff all the same.

He can't help but laugh a little as they pass an ADIDAS store, at the employees inside getting ready to open for the day. He doesn't know why he didn't think there would be stores for American brands overseas, but actually seeing one is somehow reassuring and jarring all at the same time.

"It's different, but also kinda not," he decides after a long moment. "Like. It feels older out here, because, y'know, America's like... not that old, but. Vegas was different than New York but also kinda not. Same thing, I guess. And people are people?"

He's less overwhelmed than he might be if Dylan wasn't there, if he wasn't able to understand the chatter he can hear around them. Vegas had definitely been something of a shock considering how his first time there had gone, but even then he'd had other things on his mind to distract him, with Dylan in the hospital.

"Guess the biggest thing is like... I know the rules of living in New York, y'know? Everywhere's got different rules." He's not just talking about laws, either.

"Cultural shit," Dylan agrees with a nod. He gets it; that was something he'd had to learn, too. "I think you'll figure it out, just watching people interact, but if you've got any specific questions ... "

Whether that's now, while they're in Long's, or later, after they're home and as something occurs to him. He figures, deep as they are in each other's heads right now, Jack gets what he's not saying, and so he doesn't bother to try to. Instead, he just shrugs, his entire demeanor patient and happy to teach.

"You got anything for me, now, speaking of?" he asks instead, as they stop in front of the magic shop.

Jack nods. "Right, yeah. Even back home, there's places you set up shows or... other stuff" - pickpocketing, hustles - "places you'd get your ass kicked if you did the same thing."

"Uh," he begins, in response to Dylan's question. "Don't know right now? I'm sure I will, though?"

He pauses a beat before he adds. "Thanks, too." For a lot of things, but in this moment, for the offer to answer all those questions he's bound to have, because he definitely will.

Dylan tries his best not to frown, but even if he keeps the expression off of his face, the displeasure rattles around in his head all the same. It's less a judgement on what Jack did to survive on his own and more unhappiness that he had to learn those skills in the first place. No one should have to wonder where their next meal is coming from. No one should have to steal to survive. The system sucks, and there's very much a reason beyond his bloodline why Dylan is part of a secret organization that got it's start stealing to help the less fortunate.

He lets all of that go after a beat, however, and exhales a breath, nodding. "Yeah." A beat. "Alright, yeah."

And then they're headed into Long's. He'll let Jack poke around awhile before he tries to track down a member of the staff.

Edited 2025-11-16 16:07 (UTC)

There's no shame on Jack's part on what he did, though he worries some about the fact that he knows Dylan disapproves of it. It's not something they've ever openly discussed - he knows how Dylan reacts when it comes up, and he doesn't mean to bring it up to remind Dylan what he's done. It's just part of his history, part of his skillset, something he can do.

They should maybe eventually actually discuss that Dylan disapproves more of the fact that he had to than Jack himself doing it.

Anyway, though, he doesn't push beyond that, anyway, his attention pulled immediately and fully into Long's as they enter the shop. "Holy shit," he breathes, his awe doubling as he takes it in, takes in the shelves around them and the rest of the decor as he heads for a display.

Dylan drifts along behind him, idly taking in what's changed as he drinks in Jack's wonder. Sooner rather than later, however, something pulls him out of it -- a feeling of being watched -- and he wanders towards a curtain near the back of the store with a little more purpose, figuring it as the source. He gets as far as peeking behind it when a voice speaks up from behind him.

"Not even going to say hello, Jacob?"

All at once grinning, he turns to face an older Chinese woman, who's watching him from nearby. "Maybe if you'd stop with the Wizard of Oz crap."

And then, despite one of the rules Jack mentioned before, the one about physical contact being somewhat taboo in China, Dylan pulls her into a hug, which she reciprocates.

Jack doesn't immediately notice when Dylan initially drifts away, distracted by a shelf of puzzle boxes. He finally notices that Dylan's no longer behind him when he reaches the end of the row and turns to say something.

He peeks out around the end of the row, following the thread of their connection and finding Dylan at the back of the store, and he heads toward them, hanging back a little, not wanting to interrupt.

He's assuming this is Bubu, assumes Dylan would have come back to find him in a minute, since she's here now.

The pleasantries continue for several more moments once Dylan steps away, and then finally, he turns scanning for Jack. Despite that, he continues to Bubu, "Hey, so, I wanna introduce you to someone."

He waves Jack over under Bubu's scrutiny, and explains, "Bubu, this is Jack. Jack, Bubu."

Jack fidgets a little as he waits, looking very much a teenager, vaguely uncomfortable at the idea of meeting one of their parent's friends, though the nervousness goes beyond that, here. If Dylan's family is magical royalty, then so is Bubu and anyone else tied to the shop.

When Dylan waves him forward, he steps closer, waving a hand a little awkwardly before he holds it out to her, to shake. "Um... hi. It's good to meet you."

If anything, her eyes narrow a little more at the offered hand. Despite that, though, it's clear that it's not because Jack has committed a social faux pas or anything like that. No, she accepts the gesture easily enough; she seems to be searching for something else. When she seems to find it, she shoots Dylan a questioning look. He shakes his head slightly, and through the heightened connection, Jack understands what's going on. She was curious whether Jack knew any Chinese and had chosen to speak in English despite that or if something magical was going on for him to understand.

That in mind, for everyone's sake, when Bubu speaks again, it's in English. "Good to meet you, too." A beat. "I didn't realize you had time for a protégé, Jacob."

"It's kinda more complicated than that," Dylan tells her.

He seems understandably proud of that complication and her eyebrows creep upwards. She didn't realize Dylan had had time for kids, either.

Jack takes a slight step back once Bubu lets go of his hand, still feeling a little awkward, a little nervous about the whole situation and just trying not to look like he's debating hiding behind Dylan.

He looks to Dylan at her statement and his answer. "Yeah, I'm, um..." He pauses a long moment, not sure how he should describe himself. He's been calling Dylan "Dad" almost exclusively since they got back from Vegas, and he knows Dylan has referred to him as his son, but he's personally only referred to himself as such a couple of times, and never in front of Dylan that he can remember. He's not sure if it's presumptuous to now or not.

All that is likely obvious through the connection as Jack tries to decide what to do - and finally, his nerve gives out. "I'm a foster kid."

Dylan makes a face at him over Bubu's shoulder, and then corrects, "He's my kid."

Bubu takes another moment to study him critically, before almost comically, her face splits into a smile that's equal parts warm and sad. "Too bad Lionel's not around to meet his grandson."

Dylan's expression turns a little wistful, too. "Yeah."

She turns long enough to pat him on the shoulder, gently, and then returns her attentions to Jack. "In that case, though, I'd like to show you something, Jack Shrike."

Jack gives a little apologetic cringe that also filters through the connection - sorry, he panicked - but there's something pleased in his eyes and emotions at Dylan's correction. That's really never going to get old.

There's another little burst of warmth at Bubu's description of him, and at her naming him - and then he blinks at her when she turns her attention to him properly. "Um... yeah, sure."

He's still a little nervous, but he's eager, too.

"Come with me," she orders, turning away. She heads for the curtain that Dylan was headed for, pushing it out of the way to lead him into the back of the shop. Dylan does not follow, but he gives Jack an encouraging nod to let him know that it's okay, that it's nothing bad, that she won't hurt him.

It becomes clear enough why Dylan doesn't follow as Bubu stops beside a bright green safe that seems to hold a place of honor among the rest of the inventory. The plate on the front depicts a woman, but more importantly, reads Lionel Shrike and below it Indocilis privata loqui. A magician never reveals his secrets. Bubu gestures to it, for Jack to take a closer look.

"We kept these here for your grandfather."

Jack doesn't look back as he follows Bubu into the shop's back room, feeling the reassurance as he goes. Any nervousness he might feel is gone as he sees what they're heading for, anyway, as he catches sight of the plaque.

"Holy shit," he says as he stops in front of it. He does glance back for Dylan now, but it's more out of concern for him, considering he knows very well what happened to Lionel, had known that before he had known who Dylan really was.

He turns his attention back to the safe when he realizes Dylan stayed outside, crouching so he can look at it better. "What does it say?" he asks, because he definitely doesn't know Latin.

She smiles, the expression once again sad. "'A magician never reveals his secrets.'"

The safe is not locked, and on the inside, there's a stylized Shrike embossed on the metal. Bubu lets Jack have a moment to take it all in, and when he stands again, she produces a watch that looks identical to the one Dylan never takes off. She holds it out to Jack, so he can look at that, too.

"We also kept copies of his watch."

If Jack plays with it, he'll find that the dials on the side pull out and then fold out into a crude set of lockpicks. Dylan's watch doesn't work like that.

Jack smiles a little in response to that, though it doesn't really reach his eyes, his own expression equally sad. He knows Lionel isn't the first magician and won't be the last to take those secrets to their grave, but he does wish he could have met Dylan's dad.

He shifts a little to look at the inside of the door, brushing a thumb over the embossing. There's awe practically radiating off him, but it doesn't feel right to call this cool even though he thinks it is, not when he knows how Lionel died, not when he's felt Dylan's continued grief for his father and seen how it still affects him.

He straightens after a moment - and then reaches out to take the watch. He startles a little when the dial comes free, a moment of fear jolting through him that he's broken it. It doesn't take him more than that moment to realize what it is, though, considering the lockpicks he owns, and the smile returns. This, he does declare, "Cool."

Dylan pokes his head in at that jolt of fear, instinct fueling him. When it's quick to fade, he relaxes, and goes back to loitering just outside.

"There are a few other things Lionel left here," she tells Jack, without acknowledging Dylan, "but most of the rest, Jacob has in storage, somewhere. Those may be safer to ask him about." Little does she know that Jack has already seen some of Lionel's stuff, having been to the warehouse.

Jack returns the lockpick to its place in the watch and holds it back out to Bubu before he nods. "Yeah, we, um... we actually just came out here to get dinner, but I wanted to look around some, but before that, we were at the warehouse his dad used as a workshop.

"Thanks for showing me these," he adds after a moment. "Do you have other people's stuff here, too?"

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