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[corkscrewed]

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[epistemological]

Not yet, but I've seen it happen to a few people.

[ He looks at his glass and considers pouring more, his eyes going to Martin's glass as well before he tips his chin to the bottle. More?]

And if you don't die, the medical staff are exceptionally competant.

[corkscrewed]

[ yes. yes. he definitely wants to be topped off, and he'll hold his tumbler out to jon. ]

I'm guessing it still - hurts like you're dying.

[epistemological]

From what I understand, yes.

[ He'll top him off. And then he'll top himself off.]

...it doesn't comfort me very much. Doesn't... make me worry less about people.

About you.

[corkscrewed]

I can't imagine you worrying about me. I'm still - back home, it's - things are different.

[ he's shutting himself up by taking another long drink. ]

[epistemological]

Because the NotThem... the NotSasha is feeding my paranoia. Was feeding it. Playing with me down in the tunnels and-

[ He waves a hand, dismissing the whole thing.

And then he blinks.]

'Can't imagine-'? I gave you my bed. I was up in Elias's office, banging on about CO2 nearly daily on your word-

'Can't imagine'?

[corkscrewed]

Your bed?

[ this part is repeated a little incredulously. not unhappily, just baffled. ]

It was a cot in an empty room, Jon, it wasn't like you were using it often.

[epistemological]

Why do you think I had a cot?

[ He leans in just a little.]

I wasn't using it for naps mid day. I was there half the week before I gave it up.

[ He gestures with one hand, the one that doesn't have the scotch.]

Switched from late hours to early hours. Hence the, er- you and your trousers.

[corkscrewed]

I guess I just didn't...

[ he chokes down another mouthful of scotch, suddenly deeply embarrassed. ]

Thanks. Thank you, I mean. For that. For - believing me, with her. And for helping me find somewhere safe. But you don't have to worry about me now, Jon, I promise.

[epistemological]

[ He snorts and clears his throat and waves the very idea off.]

I don't need a thank you.

But I'm not- it doesn't work like that.

[corkscrewed]

Well, I want to say it anyway.

[ pointedly. also, he is definitely feeling the drink at this point. ]

And it should. I can't even die here, can I?

[epistemological]

And you think terrible things need to kill you to be terrible?

...this is why I'm worried.

[corkscrewed]

I can look after myself, Jon, honestly. You're the one that needs looking after. I'm just, I'm glad I'm here to do it.

[epistemological]

I'm the one that-

[ Yes, that's a huff.]

I can take care of myself, Martin. And I would be concerned for anyone. I am concerned for everyone.

Not three weeks ago, I was in a cage being tortured and having cat ears put on me instead of my own. And apparently, that sort of thing happens.. There is reason for concern.

[corkscrewed]

You were the one who just tried to tell me that dying was fine, that you just woke up—

[ his voice is getting a little high here. ]

Clearly you can't take care of yourself. Cat ears?

[epistemological]

It happened to a lot of people, Martin!

[ A pause before, quieter.]

...yes. They... I felt ridiculous.

But they weren't the worst of what people got. Really, I was... lucky.

[corkscrewed]

You are the only man alive who could tell me he was being tortured and that he's lucky in the same sentence. You- you're infuriating.

[ and he seems to realize, a moment later, that he actually said that out loud - martin flusters hard and takes a long, cringing pull from his tumbler. ]

Sorry, I- sorry, I didn't mean- I don't know.

[epistemological]

[ He glances over at Martin, and it's obvious that there's a few things he could say.

He could mention that this was only the fourth time he'd been kidnapped.

That a few days of torture and experimentation wasn't nearly so bad as a month of torture and terror and moisturizing. He could mention those things, but Martin had asked for a pause from the bombs and while he hardly thinks those are upsetting, the look on Martin's face says that such a thing would upset him indeed.

...he'd never mentioned much of what'd happened while he was kidnapped to Martin back home, had he?

Hmm. ]

It's all right, Martin. It's just- it's been a lot. And I try to take the positives where I can.

I'm sorry.

[corkscrewed]

No, it's just - it's fine, Jon. I mean, it's not? It's not fine. But it's fine. It'll be fine. Just, um, hold on.

[ another long gulp, before he puts the tumbler back onto the table and stands up. ]

I'm getting us water.

[epistemological]

Glasses are in the cabinet to the right of the sink.

[ It's a well-designed flat, with all of the (currently empty) windows up near the ceiling, indicating that the flat would have been in the basement of a building otherwise. ]

[corkscrewed]

Is this what your place looks like? Back in London?

[ martin: struggling so hard to talk about ANYTHING ELSE. ]

[epistemological]

[ He nods. ]

A completely accurate recreation. Including the books. The furniture. Every ding and scratch.

[corkscrewed]

You didn't feel like changing it up at all?

[ he's bringing the glass of water over, sliding it in front of jon. ]

[epistemological]

[ He shrugs.]

Seemed like it'd be convenient. I'm not in here much anyway.

[ He glances over at Martin.]

What'd you get?

[corkscrewed]

Place where I grew up. Quite nice, actually. I mean - it's not the whole house, not like it brought my mum's old room, but - it's better than my little flat in London.

[ he's not very fond of that place anymore, anyway. ]

[epistemological]

I was going to say, I've got a guest room if you needed it.

[ If he'd had his flat in London, which he knows Martin is not particularly fond of.]

A proper house, though? That's... nice.