[Video+Action, post moon-warp]

[wereperrito]

Hello all!

This is Jack, from my little nook in the convoy where I make and repair clothes.

[He smiles at the camera, showing off the fluffy little fox ears he is now sporting instead of regular ears, and the white streaks in his blue-gray hair, then turns his radio device around to show the little shop. It is, frankly, less like a shop and more like a workspace, with fabric in cabinets on the walls and a pair of tables and some chairs, with more fabric strewn across them, some in good condition and some in less-good condition.]

I just wanted all of our new people to know that if the moon warp ruined your clothes, I can probably help. I have mostly figured out trousers, I think, and I am still working on proper shirts, though I can make, um, cloaks and drapes and things.

[He sets the camera down on one of the tables, and sits down to face it.]

I did want to, er, also tell everyone something else. I know we are all... changing. Into something we might call monsters, some of us. I just wanted to say I was a monster before I came here. Not a-- not a bad person, no, not a cruel person, but a werewolf. I turn into a beast once a month on the full moon, like moon warps here.

So. So I just wanted everyone to know, I have done this before. This changing, this becoming something else for a time. I don't know if it will help anyone, but if it can-- I wanted everyone to know.

[He has "come out" piecemeal to various people, here and there, and it's gone well. But now he's doing it to everyone, to people he's never talked to. It's a little scary, but he's doing it.

And now that he's done it, he hesitates, then fumbles for the radio to turn it off without further comment.

He will be available in his shop most evenings, for people to come by to get clothing repaired or measured for, or for people to ask questions, and of course he's around the convoy or in his van during the day when they're on the move.]

Comments

[wereperrito]

"Yes, maybe try to take it off before you get into a fight next time," Jack answers lightly enough that he's probably not harboring any bitterness about it, and goes to get bowls for the stew next. "That might be a good idea, anyway. The werewolf will likely not be very kind to clothing if I get free."

He smiles over his shoulder at John as he reaches into the upper cabinet. "But you are welcome. I found the sheets and thought they would work well for it." Also nobody else was going to want bedsheet-fabric clothing. John seemed like he would care a lot less about the fabric's provenance. And color.

[thetatters]

The light tone does embolden him. John flicks a quick, hesitant glance at Jack, assessing his posture for any sign of simmering tension.

"In my experience, fights do not allow much time for a change of clothing." Jack seems casual as ever, forever comfortable in his own skin. It's an admirable quality. Perhaps that's what allows John to continue, tone gone soft and serious. "But the wolf will not get free again, Jack. I will make sure of it."

[wereperrito]

"Yes, but we can prepare for the moon warps, at least a little. You tied me up, after all," Jack reminds him. "So for that, no cape." He gives the end of said cape an almost teasing little tug. "Other fights, I will be more forgiving if you tear it."

He turns back to the stew, ladling out generous portions for both of them. It's while he's turned away that he says, "I will not hold it against you if it happens again. The moon warp does things to all of us. Though maybe next time, we will know more about each other, so we can plan better."

[thetatters]

As usual, John seems caught off-guard by that lighthearted touch. He blinks about it, then the tension drops out of him with a fond little smile.

"I suppose so." He stares at Jack's back for a long, lingering moment. Fidgets his hands together. Looks down at them, the human fingers of his right hand tangled up against the dark wood pinky on his left. "The first one was... easier, in a way. It was more shocking, of course, and more distressing for that. But I truly did find a grove where things felt... peaceful. Easier to keep my mind."

He looks again at Jack, tone hesitant. "There was no such shelter, this time."

[wereperrito]

Jack nods. "I know. And the tower compounded things, I think. I am not angry, John." He had been, a little bit, but he's moved past that now. "We will plan for it next time, for what it might do to you and Serph. Hopefully the pattern holds true and we will not have another until the month after next."

He turns back and offers him a bowl and a spoon, and a smile. "Here, try this. Tell me what you think."

[thetatters]

To you and Serph causes a fresh clutch of guilt across his expression. Jack turns back to him, and John hurries to replace it with a smile, only a little clumsily.

"Thank you." For all that he's been transparently modeling his table manners off of Jack at mealtimes, he seems to have forgotten the habit now. John eats like the starving man he appears to be, and lights up with bright pleasure every time. "Oh! This is excellent."

[wereperrito]

Jack can be smug about that. At least someone does like his cooking, even if it's someone who is probably not very difficult to please. "Good. You eat that up. You always look like you could stand more feeding."

He moves to sit at the open door to the van, letting his feet dangle down, and pats the floor beside him. "Sit with me."

[thetatters]

"Not so much as I used to." True enough, John had arrived looking alarmingly rail-thin. He has filled out to merely skinny. He's openly pleased about it, and fond, too: Jack has been a significant force pushing the concept of multiple daily meals in his life.

He takes up his bowl and folds down to sit at Jack's side. Always slightly inelegant, always watching surreptitiously to see how Jack arranged his limbs. John lets their shoulders brush, their knees nearly touching.

"You should teach me to cook as you do, Jack. It's incredible."

[wereperrito]

"I am a very average cook, John," Jack comments, but with amusement, leaning comfortably against John's offered shoulder. "But okay. If you want to come by in the evening before bed, I can show you how to make some simple things. Stew and stir-fry is mostly what I make, and sometimes a fire-spit roast. I don't have a decent oven and there are not a lot of different ingredients to work with."

[thetatters]

"Good. I will plan to."

But John looks sideways at him over his next bite of soup, assessing from the corner of his eye. His tone remains mild, but there's another faint undertone of tension.

"Will you be sleeping in the room, after dinner? I have seen less of you this month."

He has assumed Jack to be upset about his abandonment during the Moon Warp. Despite the man's insistence to the contrary, it still seems a reasonable explanation. John is here for the food and cloak and company, yes, but also because he has spent more than a few long nights worrying over Jack's absence. At least when Jack and Serph are crowded into bed with him, he knows they're safe.

Arthur never could have spent a night without John on watch. To let Jack go so unguarded puts him ill at ease.

[wereperrito]

Aw, John. "Yes, I'll come back to the room," Jack promises. He's already had this talk with Serph, at least partly, so now apparently it's John's turn. So he adds, "But you must tell me if you and Serph want time alone again. I don't want to intrude on whatever you two might want to build."

Unless they don't want to do it again. But Serph, at least, had seemed potentially inclined in that direction.

[thetatters]

John's expression freezes neutral.

"Of course," he says. It's the tone that means he has no idea what's going on and is trying to cover his incomprehension. Someone less familiar with him might be fooled, but Jack has heard many an Of course and Yes, naturally while John stared owl-eyed at some mundane trick of human life. "But really, Jack, I don't expect an issue."

Probably. Right? What would Serph want to build? What does that even mean?

"Did he... I mean, if he said something—?"

[wereperrito]

Yeah, sorry, John, Jack knows exactly what that tone and expression means. He doesn't prod at it, though. "We talked about it a bit," Jack says instead, casually, as if it was no big deal. It kind of had been, but he's trying not to spook John, here. "He did not seem like he didn't enjoy what you two did. It may be that he would like to do it again sometime."

He has a spoonful of soup then adds, "But I know he's likely to come talk to you about it, himself, and I would rather not put words into his mouth before he says them."

[thetatters]

"Again?"

John's polite expression breaks into flustered alarm.

"No, that's— uh— I don't think that's... likely, Jack." Unless— the next Moon Warp—? He cannot imagine anything more embarrassing than trying to murder his friend again. Arthur forgave him an attempted strangling or two, obviously, but that was early on. John is better than that now. This isn't the Dark World; he has control of his worst impulses. For the most part.

"Wait. You've been avoiding us because you're afraid we'll fight again?" No, Serph must have been more tactful than to tell him everything. "Or— sex! The sex part."

Hopefully Serph only told him about the sex part. That seems the more reasonable human activity, from what baseline Arthur and the Convoy have given him. You're not supposed to talk about sex, but you're not even supposed to think about snapping the bones of your allies.

Hurriedly, he adds: "Really, Jack, it won't be an issue."

[wereperrito]

Nope. Serph led with the biting part. "Or both at the same time," Jack says blithely, knowing it's likely to get a reaction and trying not to make it worse. "Some people are into that." Like apparently Serph and John. "And I am not afraid of it." He glances over at John over the rim of his bowl. "There is nothing wrong with sex, John. Or rough sex, if that is a thing you or Serph like. I simply don't want to be in the way."

[thetatters]

John looks pained.

"Of course," he says, again in that tone of pretending-to-understand. Attempting to reassure without truly comprehending how; he's simply putting on the right tone in hope that the conversation will work out in his favor. "I appreciate that, Jack. Thank you."

At least he's now certain that Serph was appropriately vague. Rough sex is a baffling phrase that he has to repeat under his breath to try and comprehend: what are the bounds of that, in human terms? Probably not drowning to the point of unconsciousness. Nor the attempted severing and devouring of limbs. Nor the frankly unkind uses he found for Serph's body.

Perhaps that last one has merit. If only he could ask Arthur.

"You certainly won't be in the way. I'd much rather you be there." He says it, as usual, with such earnest frankness that it probably isn't a come-on.

[wereperrito]

After all this time, Jack is fairly sure John, at least, has no real interest in him in that fashion. Serph, the jury's still out, but he's not going to push on it yet either. So he doesn't take it as anything other than the same invitation as before. "I'll be there, then," he promises again.

And he's aware he clearly lost John at some point in there, but he'd really rather just leave this conversation for after Serph has his talk with him. It will be easier when at least those two are on the same page. He's content to let it be. Instead, he says, only half-teasing, "But you, my friend, need to promise to take a shower at some point, too. When is the last time you actually got clean?"

[thetatters]

John blinks at him, then looks appropriately chagrined; he ducks his head with a huff.

"Fine, yes. Very well." Is Jack claiming that he smells? It's only been a few days. Arthur didn't bathe for months, and... well, yes, it was unpleasant. But they got used to it. It was— well, not fine, actually. God damn it. "I'm still not used to it! The showers. We didn't have those, back... back where I'm from."

He is usually careful not to speak of home except in the vaguest terms of agreement or allusion. He has leaned eagerly into implying a charmingly old-fashioned little town, or at least, his own vision of one. Better not to give specifics, since he made the mistake of saying 1934 to Akechi, who then started in about World War Two as though he ought to care. Better to be vague.

In reality, he has painted a picture of apocalyptic squalor. He knows how hospital corners ought to look, but can't fold a sheet; he regards their tiny bedroom as luxurious and has never seen a salad. At least neither Serph nor Jack ever seems to press at the gaps in his cover.