sb: inbox.

[ailerons]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
 hangman

text ❖ audio ❖ video

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📦 delivery.

[powerhungry]

[ The morning before Jake's first shift at the Hex Club, an envelope finds its way to his door. Inside is a gold pin in the shape of a hexagon, as well as a note: ]

Jake,
Welcome to the Hex Club.
I look forward to working with you.
— Silco

* For clarity's sake: The pin is merely a gift, not an expected part of your daily dress.

take me home, country road. ( action. )

[altercates]

[ moved from here! ]

[ bet or not, steve isn't going to show up in sweats and joggers. he still keeps to the habit of putting on a good foot forward, and he's not above making seresin wait just a little. not long enough to be rude, but definitely long enough to make clear that it's a choice he's making.

steve gets to the patio between 40 and 45, wearing a pressed shirt and a pair of crisp jeans. god, he even has a belt. ]

Lieutenant. Where are we headed?

[ailerons]

[ Steve, Jake thinks, already reminds him a hell of a lot of Rooster.

That aw shucks mentality, the fleeting glimpse of something else behind that, the suggestion of service and loyalty in equal measure. Also, significantly making him wait. Because Steve isn't a cranky bastard with a death wish who'd rather bring the whole squad down than examine his own self-destructive tendencies (probably), Jake doesn't do anything with that information (yet).

In the time honored tradition of the US Armed Forces, Jake, very gamely, decides that there's nothing else to do about that but drink.

Ergo: there they are. By the time Steve gets to the patio, there is — undoubtedly — already a party for one happening. Two Adirondack chairs, either left here by a previous layabout or dragged here specifically for this purpose, harder to tell; two pitchers of something with sections of lime and amber-brown rum set right on the table, effervescent bubbles clinging to the sides of the glass. One of them is already half-empty, along with a small kitchen knife, a cutting board, more limes, and a very clean looking tumbler. ]

What, you get lost?

[ Coming from one of the chairs. Very, very occupied by Jake, wearing shorts and a clean linen shirt, buttons open all the way. It's 5pm and Jake barely looks like he's moved from the chair since that very morning. He barely even moves his head. ]

Typical Army man, Cap. [ He clicks his tongue against his teeth. ] Can't find their way north without the brass barking orders.

[ His hand lifts. Just enough to pull down his sunglasses, even though it's almost getting too dark for it. ]

Take a seat, Rogers. You're four behind.

text ❖ @shadowheart

[nightsung]

[ on maybe the fifth consecutive morning they've encountered each other at the gym: ]

Do you ever take a day off?

[ailerons]

[ Five consecutive days, meaning five consecutive winks in the mornings. It's nice of Shadowheart to time the beginnings of her workouts to when Jake takes off his shirt. ]

Rest days are important for recovery, Shadowheart

Do you
Or does that punching bag still owe you money?

[ He is, very literally, not talking about Saber. ]

text — un: LITTLEPRINCE

[hymen]

[ this type of conversation should be had in person, which is precisely why he's doing it over text to a man he's talked to exactly once in his life, when he was decidedly not himself. jake seresin, in theory, has no idea who he is. but he's sure he knows of him and his copious crimes against one anora mikheeva. ]

hey. jake? it's embry moore.
we should talk.
or i guess i'm the one who owes you a talk.

i'm sorry. for how things went between me and anora.
i want you to know i'd never do something like that. as me.
and if that happened to my wife

[ abort. he's dreamed of shoving his wife down the stairs in hopes that she'd break her neck. but that was intensely situational and not something he wants to explain right now. ]

i'm just trying to say that you and anora seem really good together, and i'm happy for you two. i'm sorry for the part i played in making things a mess.
i got you guys some monogrammed soap because i thought anora might find it funny. it has both your names on it.

anyway sorry for the long ass text. see you around.

[ailerons]

[ To be clear: Jake hasn't been sleeping like shit. He's been operating on the bare fucking minimum his body allows, which is fine, obviously — the Navy spent billions of dollars making him drownproof and able to operate on autopilot within two seconds of waking up and scrambling a jet, so it's old hat. Shit happens. He keeps busy. His entire career hinges on the ability to face mistakes and debrief after them, anyway, so when something goes wrong, you replay it. You unpick it. You figure out all the ways it could've gone wrong, and then worse, and what to do to make it right the next time you face it.

It's the kind of thing that's substantially harder to do when it's concerning a) the last month and b) memories of his life. And that's fine. Some things you unpick alone.

Well, it was fine, before— ]

"How things went", huh

[ He has never met Embry Moore. Staring at his name, and his text, all Jake feels is a distant but powerful sense of pity. It's immediately dwarfed by what feels like heightened fucking awareness. The itch in his palms when he hears alarms and altitude. Without so much as addressing all the rest of this shit (monogrammed soap?): ]

You know, where I'm from, people don't apologize by texting and turning tail, Moore.

[ As in: What the fuck are you talking about. ]

text: un: koby

[kobes]

[there's so much going on, but -- priorities:]

Are you resting? Do you need anything?

["are you okay" feels like a stupid question, but. he's worried.]

[ailerons]

Peachy 👍
Yep
No

[ In that order.

Well, it's a pretty pointed no. There is one obvious thing he needs. ]

Try not to die, Koby.

un: 🦋

[haggle]

( with the ominous, approaching intent of army recruiting a man into the illuminati — )

hey

( — also with the tone of a cat whose been terrorizing the village and biting neighborhood cats and is only now shamelessly slinking back home, after mysteriously vanishing for an hour or two. )

good news: i got three whole surprises for you
bad news: your premium insurance rate's gone up
lucky news: i collect thru through cash, credit or compliments (minimum cost: three) (hard mode: not about my ass, too obvious)

[ailerons]

Honey
For the last time, we are not bribing saber into doing anything

[ Atta girl. ]

Would you believe I left my wallet in the other room

1. You would scare the living hell out of some four star admirals I know
1a. None of which have ever successfully herded the people as fast during wartime (NATO's got nothing on you)
2. Beauty, brains, brawn. You are the total package (other total packages: me, Salma hayek)
3. Thinking about growing out a beard for the next time you come on my face. Yes/no
4. I lied to Big Ol' Boy about how many smokes I had left in my stash for you

@dr. sexy

[cholesterol]

I owe you an apology, for making light of your torture. I've been tortured. It's awful. I know it is. I was just on one. Still am.

[ailerons]

[ Long time before Jake thumbs anything back. Nothing personal, Deano. Lot of accusations at this hour. The PTSD will be neatly compartmentalized next month! ]

Well, doc
Much as I am a fan of being owed an apology from a man yet to give one
Think we'll call this square

[ Which is, notably, not the same thing as even. Also, ]

Next time you have names, I'd poll the spades and the spadelettes

@bob — text.

[sensive]

[ a couple hours after jinx’s post. ]

i think it’s adrian

[ blood on a rock. how does that compare to a name on paper? robert reynolds, deceased. how about a body in the centre of town? ]

we’re gonna look for him
if you’re up for coming

[ailerons]

[ An immediate, ]

Count me in, Bobby
Who's the we in your merry band

@koby

[kobes]

I have a question for you.

[ailerons]

And you have my undivided

[ Ten seconds later, ]

Slightly divided attention, Special K

I have a fee for selfies, if that's what you're after

text — un: ADRIAN

[quizzes]

dude you canNOT fumble a baddie like ani

1/2

[ailerons]

Obviously I know that

[ ... ]

2/2

[ailerons]

[ Immediately followed by, URGENTLY: ]

What do you know about fireworks

✉️ text — un: astarion.

[thirsted]

It sounds as though I ought to wish your sister were here instead of you, but that would be, of course, a terribly ungrateful thought in light of your quite lovely gift.

In answer to your question: yes, she does get cold. An unfortunate side effect of vampirism, and apparently also of chickenhood. And you'll have to explain "JSTOR" to me again sometime — its association, here, with my beloved, naturally excepted.

P.S. Ah, I've been remiss. Give me a recommendation, and I'll start there.

[ailerons]

Think that might be the right assumption, Astarion
Given that I've known Cass all my life and she's the most annoying person I know

[ Which is any older brother's way of saying I miss her the way people miss home when they've been gone away too long, changed too much. ]

Back where I'm from, JSTOR's a network library where scholars publish their work
Still not convinced there's a lot your man doesn't know
I'll keep that in mind for Lady Hen next year

Depends what you might be in the mood for
- Romance of the season?
- Timeless classic?
- Holiday mystery?
- Self-improvement?
Notice you do seem to be an Ephron fan

un: 🦋

[haggle]

just reminding you ❤️
i gotta dump your ass if your gifts are shitty
says it right here in your little naval handbook
law 069: men who can't perform will be dismissed from pussy service

time is pretend and i cover the timestamp

[ailerons]

You are going to hate this popsicle reindeer I poured my heart and soul into
Seriously. Koby cried

[ Followed immediately by, ]

Can't question the handbook, can I
Ol' Saint Nick get that list of things you're wishing for until Jan 7?
Or am I going to have to earn that

🎁 delivery (dated 12/25).

[begot]

[ On Christmas morning, a gift sits outside of Jake's door, wrapped only slightly lumpily in shiny gold paper. Peeling it away reveals why its shape is so odd, as the wrapping covers:

— a silk pocket square has been tied around
— a copy of Beauty and the Beast.

Slipped between the two is a simple piece of off-white card stock, upon which has been written: ]

Jake,

It was this, or a DVD of Legally Blonde.

Merry Christmas,
Amy

✉️ text — un: silco.

[powerhungry]

I'm leaving Hawk in charge of the club for the weekend. I'm trusting you and Wanda to support him, and keep operations afloat.

Nobody else needs to know I'm not there. Tell anyone who asks that I have other business to attend to.

[ailerons]

[ A short series of dots, appearing and disappearing. Then: ]

Got it
That all I need to know?