[ Jack wakes with a groan the next morning, immediately reaching up to rub at his face tiredly. It's not the alcohol (he's not that much of a lightweight), but simply a heavier weight that has him waking up feeling like shit.
When was the last time he was even that upset? He thinks-- Probably when Angel actually died, but he doesn't remember that. It just seems to make sense. But before that... Jack sighs and pulls at his face as he thinks about it. He can remember being that upset when Moxxi, Roland, and Lilith had betrayed him, but he hadn't had time to express it, really. So before that... God. It had to have been his wife, but that's an intensely unpleasant thought. Luckily, that memory is far too vague for this Jack to even latch onto.
He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, making his bedhead all the worse, but looks over to his desk tiredly. He remembers that he hadn't finished the letter, but goddamn. He's not even sure if he wants to, all things considered. Jack shifts and gets up and instead rubs at his neck, and he mumbles seemingly to himself, but it's clear that's not who he's speaking to. ]
Jesus, kiddo... Didn't pull a goddamn punch, did you? Guess I deserved that, but... Cripes.
[ He groans again, but after a moment's consideration, he goes and takes a seat at the desk again. The way he flops into the chair is tired and heavy, but he picks the letter up again. He flips the letter in his hand, and it's clear that he's really putting off finishing it, but eventually, after a lot of consideration, he just goes back to finish it. There's a twist in his expression as he skims over it again to find where he'd left off, but it's clear that he finds his place again when he sighs.
Though at the very least, the rest is... Easier to get through, which he's glad for. Not without any difficulty, because he murmurs to himself: ]
I'm not a liar, Liz. Not about stuff like this.
[ Maybe part of him had entertained thoughts about how he could clip her wings too, about what Elizabeth could do for him more than who she was, but he hadn't been able to be that distant with her. He'd almost done so when she spoke to him just after she had been exorcised of the alien within her, but speaking more... He knew he couldn't do that. His care is twisted, and it can be too intense for someone else to bear, but it was the sort of care that was surprisingly steadfast all the same. So there's a sting when she questions that, even calls herself a fool for allowing it, because she's right. He doesn't get it, and he never will. Because in Jack's mind, it's not power he's necessarily pursuing. The power was just a piece of a greater puzzle.
And so, the rest of her points, as they had before, fall on deaf ears. Because no matter what, those masks he takes on are an inexorable part of him now. Whatever man Jack might have been where these words could have reached him and made him realize he was wrong-- That man is long since gone. So reading the rest is something bittersweet to him. He knows they'll never come to understand each other, not on this. But he thinks it's because of her, not him.
Though the advice is at least something he can read with a softer expression that looks almost regretful. It's not what he's feeling, not really, but it's what it looks like. In truth, that, along with Elizabeth's faith, just pulls out that part of Jack that's so "heroic," though tired. Jack's drive and ambition are both qualities that people tend to notice about him quickly, and it leads to the very conflicts that Elizabeth has been struggling with. If there's a possibility for something Jack wants, he'll be the one to find it and take it. That's the sort of person he is. But he's also the sort of person to step on the throats of anyone that might be in the way of that goal. So, putting your faith in Handsome Jack... It's a dangerous thing.
After all, he takes it completely seriously.
The letter is folded up, and Jack sits back with a heavy sigh. His arm is brought up to cover his eyes, but not for something painful this time so much as tired. He may portray one thing around others, but of course, privately, he's not untouchable or infallible. Jack laughs, but it's soft rather than something manic or uncomfortable. ]
Saving 'em... Kinda easier said than done.
[ That's breathed out with his laugh, but Jack shifts to stretch before the letter is put back in its drawer and closed. Jack stands and runs a hand through his hair again, but he's smiling thoughtfully now. He seems tired, but certainly not discouraged, which fits with that unreal sort of self-confidence he is. ]
But, hey. If it can be done? I'll do it. So— Just hang tight. We'll figure this out. Promise.
no subject
[ Jack wakes with a groan the next morning, immediately reaching up to rub at his face tiredly. It's not the alcohol (he's not that much of a lightweight), but simply a heavier weight that has him waking up feeling like shit.
When was the last time he was even that upset? He thinks-- Probably when Angel actually died, but he doesn't remember that. It just seems to make sense. But before that... Jack sighs and pulls at his face as he thinks about it. He can remember being that upset when Moxxi, Roland, and Lilith had betrayed him, but he hadn't had time to express it, really. So before that... God. It had to have been his wife, but that's an intensely unpleasant thought. Luckily, that memory is far too vague for this Jack to even latch onto.
He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, making his bedhead all the worse, but looks over to his desk tiredly. He remembers that he hadn't finished the letter, but goddamn. He's not even sure if he wants to, all things considered. Jack shifts and gets up and instead rubs at his neck, and he mumbles seemingly to himself, but it's clear that's not who he's speaking to. ]
Jesus, kiddo... Didn't pull a goddamn punch, did you? Guess I deserved that, but... Cripes.
[ He groans again, but after a moment's consideration, he goes and takes a seat at the desk again. The way he flops into the chair is tired and heavy, but he picks the letter up again. He flips the letter in his hand, and it's clear that he's really putting off finishing it, but eventually, after a lot of consideration, he just goes back to finish it. There's a twist in his expression as he skims over it again to find where he'd left off, but it's clear that he finds his place again when he sighs.
Though at the very least, the rest is... Easier to get through, which he's glad for. Not without any difficulty, because he murmurs to himself: ]
I'm not a liar, Liz. Not about stuff like this.
[ Maybe part of him had entertained thoughts about how he could clip her wings too, about what Elizabeth could do for him more than who she was, but he hadn't been able to be that distant with her. He'd almost done so when she spoke to him just after she had been exorcised of the alien within her, but speaking more... He knew he couldn't do that. His care is twisted, and it can be too intense for someone else to bear, but it was the sort of care that was surprisingly steadfast all the same. So there's a sting when she questions that, even calls herself a fool for allowing it, because she's right. He doesn't get it, and he never will. Because in Jack's mind, it's not power he's necessarily pursuing. The power was just a piece of a greater puzzle.
And so, the rest of her points, as they had before, fall on deaf ears. Because no matter what, those masks he takes on are an inexorable part of him now. Whatever man Jack might have been where these words could have reached him and made him realize he was wrong-- That man is long since gone. So reading the rest is something bittersweet to him. He knows they'll never come to understand each other, not on this. But he thinks it's because of her, not him.
Though the advice is at least something he can read with a softer expression that looks almost regretful. It's not what he's feeling, not really, but it's what it looks like. In truth, that, along with Elizabeth's faith, just pulls out that part of Jack that's so "heroic," though tired. Jack's drive and ambition are both qualities that people tend to notice about him quickly, and it leads to the very conflicts that Elizabeth has been struggling with. If there's a possibility for something Jack wants, he'll be the one to find it and take it. That's the sort of person he is. But he's also the sort of person to step on the throats of anyone that might be in the way of that goal. So, putting your faith in Handsome Jack... It's a dangerous thing.
After all, he takes it completely seriously.
The letter is folded up, and Jack sits back with a heavy sigh. His arm is brought up to cover his eyes, but not for something painful this time so much as tired. He may portray one thing around others, but of course, privately, he's not untouchable or infallible. Jack laughs, but it's soft rather than something manic or uncomfortable. ]
Saving 'em... Kinda easier said than done.
[ That's breathed out with his laugh, but Jack shifts to stretch before the letter is put back in its drawer and closed. Jack stands and runs a hand through his hair again, but he's smiling thoughtfully now. He seems tired, but certainly not discouraged, which fits with that unreal sort of self-confidence he is. ]
But, hey. If it can be done? I'll do it. So— Just hang tight. We'll figure this out. Promise.