Hotel Renaissance, Paris, 13 Jan. 1902

[bitten_notshy]

A few hours after Jack was released from the hospital -- with a cane, and firm instructions not to do much more than get in and out of bed for at least a week -- he found himself with the unexpected gift of a few hours with only a terrier and an orange cat for company. Sebastien -- or, rather, Amedee Gosselin -- was helping Doctor Garrett on some political mission, and Emma and Mary had been discharged to do some shopping before Ronan arrived.

He couldn't say he minded. While he was in the hospital, the bland surroundings had blunted the effects of his improved senses by not giving them very much to focus on. But even the brief ride from hospital to hotel had been almost too much; the noise of the streets was a roar in his ears, and the scent of the horses drawing the cab had him wondering whether horsemeat was good to eat. Being around people, even people he loved, became quite difficult quite quickly.

Perhaps he was a little changed.

He practically chased Sebastien and his overpowering concern out the door and sprawled on the couch, trying to focus on a bit more reading about werewolves. A knock on the door startled him out of the German text, which was perhaps for the best. The book showed no signs of being any more useful than the last twenty.

"Declan," he said, blinking as he opened the door. "I'd not expected you to stop by."

He stepped aside anyhow, and gestured the Irish rebel leader in. "I couldn't have a man down without a visit," Declan Murphy protested -- falsely, in Jack's opinion -- and shoved the requisite basket of fruit into Jack's hands.

They chatted for a bit in the sitting room, and Jack noted idly that Declan seemed especially interested in ensuring Jack was alone.

"So I heard," Declan said, once the small talk had dried up, "that you might have come out of this with a few side effects of the lycanthropic variety."

Jack was surprised by the bluntness Declan used in bringing it up, but less surprised he knew. Gossip traveled fast, especially in a war where information was currency. Murphy -- a plump black-haired fellow only a few years Jack's elder who looked far more gentle than the reputation he'd earned -- came from a family with a strong strain of hedge witchcraft. If anyone would make an appropriate surmise, it would be him.

"It's a little early to start making predictions," Jack said warily. "The physician thamaturgist said nothing will be certain until the end of the month."

"It's not such a bad thing, if you have," Declan chattered at him. "Sure, it's inconvenient, but think what you could do. You could hide in the English barracks come the full moon, change over, and half a dozen soldiers would be gone before the rest of them stopped pissing themselves."

Jack stared for a moment, hoping for some sign this was a joke. He saw none. "You want me to be a weapon," he said. "I'm not a killer. You know that." He'd argued against violence often enough.

"But it's not really you, is it?" Declan was oddly, manically, cheerful on this point. "We're just directing what the wolf would do on his own. Better the Brits than a children's home, and better for us than for some army. And you'd never get caught at it -- the wolf form's a perfect disguise."

Jack would have granted some measure of the point -- in theory. In practice...

"I'm not killing for you or for anyone," he said firmly. "Man or wolf. If you can't think of a better way to use me, perhaps the rebellion doesn't need me at all."

Declan's eyes went cool. "Perhaps," he said, "it doesn't. Watch, though. Can't say all the sorcerers on our side will understand."

Jack's eyes outdid Declan's in steeliness. "Perhaps," he said, "it's time for you to take your leave."

Jack doubted he could do much in a fight. Hospital discharge or no, he was still weak. Still. He had no wish to be pushed.

"I was just on my way," Declan said, and stood to bow elaborately. "Think on it, will you? I'd hate for anyone to force the issue."

He was gone before Jack was calm enough to speak. His hands shook as he went to the small kitchenette to start some tea.

[OOC: For those who happen to be in Paris. NFB.]

Comments

[not_in_the_book]

Of all the notifications Ronan had thought about getting, a telegram wasn't one of them -- but it was exactly that that had him arriving at Jack's hotel door. He knocked firmly, and then leaned, smiling, one hand against the wall just to the side of the door.

It should present quite the picture when the door opened; never let it be said that Ronan was above posing.

[bitten_notshy]

He did, and Jack laughed appreciatively once the door was all the way open. (He'd opened it only a crack at first, just in case Murphy had decided to come back.)

Definitely this was his preferred Irishman.

"I have to say," he said, as he stepped aside, "it is amazing to see you. Come in, please. The others should be back soon."

His movements were a bit stiff, but not too badly, and the bandages were concealed under a loose shirt. He'd almost pass for well if it wasn't for his scent of ointment and the cane he kept at hand.

[not_in_the_book]

"Nice to know I'm appreciated," Ronan replied, laughing a little as he stepped inside. He was taking in the details -- the cane was obvious, but the ointment, too, got noticed -- and it was enough to have Ronan really wanting to get Jack's shirt off.

Not dirty, for once.

"So how've you been?" he asked, covering concern with casual tone. "I'm glad to see that you're, well... Upright."

[bitten_notshy]

"For someone who got attacked by a monster three days ago, apparently I'm doing very well," Jack volleyed back, and shut the door behind them before heading to the couch. He kept his tone as dry as he could make it. "It's all right. I know I don't look ... quite normal."

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan stopped for a moment -- absolutely stilled -- before resuming action. "... What kind of monster are we talking about?" he said, following Jack to the couch. "I've... dealt with a few of those in my time. Even before coming to Fandom."

Oh, the Fomori. And, well, Balor.

"Did you want me to take a look at anything? I could probably speed up your recovery."

[bitten_notshy]

"Werewolf," Jack said, with the tiniest of smiles to show he wasn't joking. "Technically, they're extinct here and it was the bound spirit of one. But werewolf is simpler."

He'd go more into details in a moment. For now...

He nodded at the question. "I was rather hoping you could. I'm healing on my own, and they've done what they can here, but anything to get me more on my feet would be welcome."

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan blinked. "I have to admit, werewolf's a new one for me," he said. "But yeah, I'd be happy to take a look."

There was a question, just on the tip of his tongue: so there's this thing they say about werewolf bites... But he wasn't quite ready to ask that, not yet.

[bitten_notshy]

"It's not my area of expertise, either," Jack said -- with something very similar on the tip of his tongue -- and stood to walk toward the bedroom. Once he was sitting on the bed, he started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

He knew how the situation would normally unfold if he was taking his shirt off in front of Ronan, and smiled in a way both flirtatious and apologetic. "I'll let you deal with the dressings on my back," he said. "I can't -- entirely -- reach. And thank you."

The wounds underneath Jack's bandages were still livid and a bit raw, but seemed to be knitting themselves together. If you weren't told how recently Jack had almost died, it would be hard to believe.

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan would much rather the other situation, thanks, but maybe that could come later.

"... How long ago were you attacked?" he asked as he removed the dressings. He ran his hand lightly down Jack's side, tracing around the injuries, getting a sense of their shape and flow.

[bitten_notshy]

"Three days," Jack answered, twisting his neck to watch Ronan work. "There's a ... complication. They think I may have its curse."

That was a terrifying thing to admit, even euphemistically.

"Can you tell?"

[not_in_the_book]

That... was what Ronan had been not asking, yes.

He let out a slow hiss, taking in the fact that Jack had already healed as much as he had. "I can try," he explained. "My kind of magic doesn't have much to do with curses, but I think..."

It was a kind of energy, really, and Jack was human, baseline -- barring certain exceptional circumstances, they had a >certain subset of energies and no more. If Ronan twisted his spell this way, changed a little wording there, something not unlike Jack's aura should unfold before his vision:

Part of him was really hoping it still looked human-baseline, but he wasn't really expecting it.

[bitten_notshy]

Jack sat still, saying nothing and barely moving as Ronan worked.

He didn't expect the wizard to come up with a different answer than Sebastien, Doctor Garrett, and the hospital's sorcerer, let alone with anything different from what Jack's own senses were telling him. But for the moment, it was nice to believe this could still all fall out as a misunderstanding and let Jack get back to his real life. Which decidedly did not include taking three nights out of every month to hunt and howl at the moon, thank you very much.

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan sighed, and with a little mental 'flick' let the spell drop from his eyes. "I... don't know what to tell you," he admitted. "It's-- Maybe? Probably? But I can't tell for sure."

He rubbed at his eyes, shaking away the pinch that accompanied that spell. "Given some time, I could probably figure out more, write a spell to determine absolutely, but that's the best I have for you right now."

[icecoldfrost]

It was awhile later before Emma and Mary tumbled past the door, their arms laden down with shopping as Emma chattered at Mary in French, occasionally pausing to correct the other woman's pronunciation.

"//We are back!//" she called out in the same language. "//I do not think I have ever purchased that many chickens before.//"

To be honest, Emma had never purchased any chicken that was not already pre-cooked.

[not_in_the_book]

It took a moment to process -- Ronan wasn't used to French -- but as with any language, it was intelligible to someone who knew the Speech. "Dai stihó, Emma!" he called back. "Did you leave any for the Parisiens, or will we be eating poultry for a month?"

[bitten_notshy]

Jack was still buttoning his shirt, but he was far less stiff as he walked toward Emma than he'd been when she left -- thanks to Ronan.

//You could have saved yourself the trouble and just gotten me a raw steak,// he joked, as he reached to claim a package and lighten the load. //I'd share with Mike.//

The dog yipped at his name and trotted over to bother Mary.

[icecoldfrost]

Emma just laughed - and gave him a very light package - before setting setting the others aside and going to hug Ronan. "You cannot just have steak, Jack," she chided over her shoulder. "It's not fair to the rest of us."

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan let his mind brush against Emma's as they hugged; nothing so concrete as a thought, just a quick mind-to-mind touch. "That does make me wonder, though," he said aloud, "if your dietary requirements have changed. It'll be useful to know, especially for -- oh, Emma! Dinner at my house on Friday, if you're available. Wayward Refugees reunion."

[bitten_notshy]

Jack took a minute. He'd been mostly on invalid food these last few days, soft eggs and rice pudding.

"Same as ever, I think," he decided. "I'm not going to worry about the" -- he managed not to grimace -- "wolf right now, but I'm still Jewish."

So was George, and he idly wondered if two made a trend.

"Though steak does sound awfully good."

[icecoldfrost]

"I'm not playing naughty nurse if you make yourself relapse, Jack," Emma teased. "Chicken soup. No steak."

Which was why at the very end of their spending spree, Emma and Mary had bought four chickens. Mary seemed to be convinced of the fact Jack would manage to eat them all in two days.

"I should be able to make dinner on Friday, barring any unforeseen disasters." Like more werewolves. "Class doesn't start up until the end of the month."

[not_in_the_book]

"Maybe we'll have steak, then, on Friday." Ronan grinned. "We'll have to wait and see. And--" He threw up a few extra mental walls. "No peeking, Emma!"

The fact that Jack actually said the word wolf was probably a good sign, he mused in the more public parts of his brain. In case Emma wanted to pick up on that particular thought.

[bitten_notshy]

Jack eyed Ronan, wondering what he was thinking at Emma, and decided there were some things he was not meant to know.

"Chicken soup for a few more days, then," he said, more playful than truly distraught. "Everything we've had here has been good anyhow."

And yes, he probably could eat two chickens' worth a day. At least. Jack's appetite had never been especially dainty, and now that his health was coming back he was starving.

[icecoldfrost]

Emma's mind brushed lightly against Ronan's outer shields. <<Thank you for coming,>> she said silently. <<Whatever you did, his coloring already looks better.>>

"What if I want to peek?" she was asking aloud, batting her eyelashes and pouting outrageously. "Dessert can't be that much of a surprise, can it?"

"Promise me that it's chocolate." ...Emma knew dogs couldn't have chocolate - hopefully that did not hold true for werewolf-boys. "Although before I forget..." She turned back to her packages, going to dig in them. "I had picked both of you up some surprises."

[not_in_the_book]

"Isabel's taking care of dessert," Ronan explained, "so I can't make any promises as to chocolate... But I did request the exact same thing, so. Presumably, yes."

He tried not to look too eager at the idea of a gift. He was a mature, professional wizard now!

And if you believed that, he had a good deal on lunar real estate for you.

[bitten_notshy]

If anyone pointed out to Jack that dogs couldn't have chocolate and werewolves were a bit like dogs, there would be a very sad Jack -- and probably one eating a Snickers bar just to see.

"I have a rule," he said. "I never turn down presents. Miss Frost, what did you find?"

He'd need to get her Christmas and birthday gifts too, he realized. They'd gotten missed.