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

[onebehind]

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.

Comments

[onebehind]

Dylan's eyebrows go up at the mention of Jack being able to throw cards. "All things considered, that shouldn't surprise me, but ... "

But he swallows it after a moment and as they head back out onto the street.

"Speaking of." Sort of. This logical leap makes sense in his head, even if Jack's not privy to the depth of his thoughts at the moment. Since Bubu decided to speak English, Dylan has dialed the connection back again. "We oughta get you a passport, if we're gonna be doing a lot of traveling. Just in case."

[the_death_card]

Jack shrugs. "Kinda taught myself? Well, me and a couple other kids in one of the group houses. It gets kinda boring, sometimes. I can show you, when we get back to the warehouse."

He is absolutely underselling how well he can throw cards, but they'll get there.

He blinks a little at the jump but recovers quickly. "I've never had a passport. I still just have the little ID card thing." He doesn't have a driver's license either, he means, but he's not particularly worried about that considering pft. Who drives in New York?

[onebehind]

One day, Dylan will take Jack to get his license, because while, no, no one really does drive in New York, it's still a good skill to have, regardless. Right now, though, Dylan backpedals a little, if only because Jack's surprise reads as a bad thing.

Blame the fact that this isn't entirely about proper documentation.

"You against getting one?"

[the_death_card]

"No?" Jack returns. "Sorry, just, um... subject change caught me off guard." He grins.

"Definitely still getting used to the idea that I need that stuff, you know? Considering I'd never really left New York until, well... we went to Vegas that time."

And honestly, he's probably lucky he never needed ID during that time considering he hadn't had his wallet on him when they left.

[onebehind]

"Might wanna get you a couple, in that case," Dylan murmurs, his thoughts mirroring Jack's. "That way, you can keep one in New York and one in Vegas, just in case."

And that way, he might be able to slip some extra forms into the stack.

[the_death_card]

"That feels all secret agent-y," he returns. "Secret extra documents and all that." He grins - nevermind they are literally part of a secret organization and nevermind that it's going to go beyond what he even knows right now, when he has paperwork for Jack Shrike and Jack Rhodes.

[onebehind]

"I'll get you an honorary FBI commission," Dylan promises on the heel of a sigh of a laugh. He levels a warm smile at Jack, which lingers for several seconds, before, "So, back on topic, what're we doing now?"

[the_death_card]

Jack laughs, too, still grinning - and then shrugs. "I dunno. What time is it at home?" he asks with a glance at his watch, considering it's still set to New York's time zone. "I guess we should probably, like... go to bed at some point?"

He pauses a beat. "If there are beds in the warehouse?"

Do they need to find a hotel? He doesn't know.

[onebehind]

"There's those shitty cots," Dylan reminds him. He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful, before, "I wouldn't mind getting a hotel or something, if you don't wanna go back to that, though."

He's not necessarily sold on going back to the warehouse, but he doesn't want to go home even to sleep. He's not sure he won't end up right back at square one, if left to his own devices, in his own bed.

[the_death_card]

"At least we don't have to worry about jet lag," he jokes, "but um, yeah. That's fine? And we don't have to go like... right now if there's anything else you wanted to do?"

Or wanted him to see, or whatever. He's not particularly tired right now, running on the excitement of being here and seeing the shop and everything, and he napped in the car, but Dylan had to drive, has done the magical heavy lifting, and had the emotional turmoil to deal with on top of that.

[onebehind]

Thoughtfully, Dylan rakes his tongue over his teeth.

"Let's fine a hotel," he decides after a beat. "We got at least a dozen, spread out through the city, but I think there's at least one nearby." We in this case, being the Eye. "When we get up, we can do more shit." And in that one, being him and Jack.

[the_death_card]

There's another burst of excitement through the connection, that they are staying here, that it's an Eye hotel. "Do we need to get our shit?" From the warehouse, he means, since they just dropped their bags.

If Dylan just wants to open the door, he can get their bags.

[onebehind]

"Probably, yeah," he decides after a moment. They should probably not sleep in their clothes. "Lemme grab a door."

It doesn't take him long to find something workable, and then he's opening the door on the Warehouse. He gestures Jack inside. He'll stand here and keep watch, just in case. Never mind the fact that he really doesn't expect anyone to wander by.

[the_death_card]

There's also their toothbrushes and so on that Jack isn't thinking that the hotel could probably get them.

Anyway, when Dylan opens the door, Jack slips through it, finding their discarded bags, and then coming back through a few moments later, stepping out of the way so Dylan can close the door again. "You've gotta teach me how to do that someday," he says.

[onebehind]

Dylan reaches for his bag as he pushes the door closed. When he steps away, back towards the street, it's with a thoughtful glance back at Jack. "Just as a 'break glass in case of emergency' kinda thing, maybe."

[the_death_card]

Jack nods, handing off the bag when Dylan reaches for it and adjusting his hold on his own. "Yeah, absolutely," he promises immediately, because he just wants to learn, and if it's just for emergencies, he'll take it.

[onebehind]

After a moment of studying him, Dylan nods. "Alright."

That's not something they'll do right this second, all things considered, but he'll add it to the agenda of things he shows Jack sooner rather than later. For now, though, and with a smile, he turns to head down the street towards the heart of the city. Again, he deepens the connection, letting Jack lean on him as a living translator, and again, he seems to be in no particular hurry, despite how tired he may or may not be. He wants Jack to be able to take in the city, and they'll be at the hotel soon enough, anyway.

[the_death_card]

Jack grins back, glad Dylan accepted - and then turns to follow him through Macau.

"So did you come here a lot growing up?"

He may have asked that already or Dylan may have mentioned it at some point, but he's curious anyway. He knows that Dylan was relatively young when Lionel died, but he doesn't know how much magic Dylan was involved with after that.

[onebehind]

"Just a couple of times with my old man," Dylan reminds him. He doesn't mind repeating himself, though. At the time, Jack was more focused on how he'd learned to speak Chinese rather than how frequently he visited as a kid. "I spent a lot more time he as an adult, after college. It's kinda hard not to gravitate towards here or Vegas, even as behind the scenes as I usually am."

As a magician, he means.

[the_death_card]

Jack nods. Right, he'd said that.

"So Macau's Vegas of the East or whatever. Is that like..." He pauses a long beat, trying to figure out the best way to word the rest of the question. "How true actually is that?"

He still only really knows Vegas by reputation. The week he'd spent there had mostly been spent either at the Fullers' or at Dylan's apartment, not knowing the area well enough to know how well he would do at going unnoticed as a lone 17-year-old.

[onebehind]

Dylan makes a sweeping, showman's gesture around them. "Bright lights, casinos in every building from your Mom and Pop grocery to the bigger hotels, tourists. There's even a Venetian, downtown."

Which they are not going to. The spectacle is nice if you're a tourist, but -- well, they're not, not exactly. Like any hotel off the Strip in Vegas, the one he's thinking of here is just as grand but much quieter.

[the_death_card]

"Yeah, guess that shouldn't surprise me. People really like to gamble. Also shiny things."

See also: Times Square. He's seen it, he doesn't spend much time there himself unless he's working, but the tourists sure love it.

"It's kinda weird, seeing like... stores I know from home here."

[onebehind]

"Global economy or whatever," Dylan answers with a shrug. He's pretty desensitized to it all. "Like, you know that Adidas isn't an American company, right?"

He knows seeing one here bothered Jack. By his own logic, Jack should be equally surprised to know that Adidas is German, so they shouldn't exist Stateside.

[the_death_card]

Jack pauses at that. "Oh, no." Well now he feels a little dumb. "I just knew people at school liked them, so I kinda figured..."

He trails off with a shrug. He hasn't really had the privilege of paying much attention to brands - or if he did own something of a brand it was either secondhand or a knock-off.

The big name stores around Times Square usually paid too much attention to him to risk shoplifting from them.

[onebehind]

Dylan makes a face, mostly at himself. "Sorry. I wasn't ... "

He didn't mean to make Jack feel dumb. He was just trying to point out why it didn't bother him as much to see 'American' companies here.