Private Enough stalling.

Hope the Bard

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Okay. Fuck. Enough stalling.

Dressed as a journalist (what did journalists even wear in this alternate? Conrad was glad that suits tended to be suitable fashion for formality in any alternate) Conrad pressed the buzzer on the gate to the estate. He had figured out the leads to this guy months ago, but only now had he worked up the courage to do anything about it.
He'd been spoilt. Months of peace and relative quiet had done this to him. This alternate was small. Quiet. Most of the books published on the island had never seen Library shelves, and somehow this island, which should definitely have teetered into chaos on the Library's radar from all the supernatural elements and narrative patterns its citizens had fallen into, somehow remained a zero in terms of whether it teetered too hard into chaos or order.
It truly was a mystery. One he wanted to solve. But the pure fact that he hadn't gotten any action whatsoever was proof that he kind of had it easy here. He didn't really know what he'd done to be promoted to Librarian in Residence here except donate a few hundred original... okay. Maybe that explained why he'd been promoted. There were just so many books here that were unique to this alternate, and getting his hands on them had just been so... easy.
But he supposed he knew this alternate best. And he was still researching it even now.

Anyway.

This writer knew too much about his adventures with Jack. The plots pretty much followed their escapades hunting down books to a T, except for some embellishments for thematic strengthening (a plus) and addition/removal/rearranging of scenes to support a more coherent plot (admirable, he had to admit.) But the fact stood, no matter how thoughtful (not necessarily good) a writer this man might be, he knew too much.
"Excuse me, is this the house of J.T. Anderson? I'm Joseph Rodriguez, a columnist working for The Independent! I'm here to interview you for your new release?" He phrased it as a question of confirmation as he spoke to the interface, smiling earnestly at the security camera.

He was going to get to the bottom of this, whether he had to dirty his hands or not.
 

ArcanaFate

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Jack's life had become surprisingly simple and, dare he say it, mundane in the past few years.

If he had been told five years ago what his life would be like currently, the fae would have politely laughed and denied it. Yet here he was, a moderately successful author and now a father to a charming and polite merboy. It was surreal to think he used to travel dimensions, getting into sword fights and battles of wits. Even the occasional romantic fling when the timing was right. He felt alive during his adventures, knowing that every choice could be his last and any mistakes could cost him dearly. The sheen from his magical prosthetic was a clear reminder of that.

And despite that misfortune, he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Jack's thoughts were interrupted, however, when the buzz of the security intercom came to life and a voice rang out. His tail fluffed in surprise but immediately swung from side to side to hide that moment of surprise. Did he have an interview today? The fae frowned, fingers tapping against the marble countertop in contemplation before shrugging. It probably slipped his mind. He tapped the small intercom button on the wall (unfortunately there was no screen here to see Mr. Rodriguez currently) and waited for the ping before speaking.

"Ah, Mister Rodriguez! I must have lost track of time. Please, come in! I'm currently in the kitchen, but do feel free to head to the parlor. Just make a right from the foyer, then a left at the first set of white doors. I'll make some tea for our interview!" He laughed, letting go of the communication button and remotely unlocking the door. The day could only go better from here.
 

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Conrad frowned as he made his way up to the main doors of the estate's mansion.

Something about this voice felt familiar. It had been years now since he'd heard a voice so distinct. There was something to the way he pronounced his 'I's - there was an Irish Gaelic tinge to it: indiscernible to most ears but not to his. There was the occasional dipthong in a place where there shouldn't be - and the way he laughed was undoubtedly Irish. At least, to Conrad's ears.
And something about that bothered him. It couldn't have been someone he'd met in the last two years, that was for sure. He'd been living peacefully in Manta Carlos and would recognise a voice like that if he'd heard it in the street or at the library. Before that he'd been on way too many journeyman missions to keep track of all the voices he'd listened to. He'd gotten too used to the transience of everything until the stable instability (an oxymoron, he knew) on this island had thrust itself upon him.

Either way, he didn't like this. Not one bit. "Ah, no, I'm perfectly--" The intercom cut him off before he could respond. Guess he'd have to politely turn the tea down once he entered, then. He was more of a coffee person really, but he definitely couldn't trust this person. No way. The warning signs were far too loud for him to put anything on the table. He'd just figure out who the guy was, how to shut him up, and then wipe away any evidence of anything.

If he was lucky, he thought to himself as he took a seat on a lusciously plush white leather sofa that practically glowed against the cream walls, he could settle this amicably.
 

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Jack hummed to himself as he set up the tray. He noted a mental checklist as he meticulously prepared the presentation. The fae had pulled out the nice white teapot with pale blue flowers, pairing it with the matching tea cups, of course. A plate with various kind of cookies and treats partnered with the tea, laid out in a spiraling pattern to give it that extra artistic flair. It was impressive, if Jack could say so himself.

Which he did, because, let's face it, it looked amazing and no one could say otherwise.

Now, to handle the interview with class and dignity as always. Jack never felt that famous due to his books; they were fun but were not literary masterpieces by any means. Or truly unique books that would stand out in the annals of history. Jack frowned slightly, thinking of a certain raven haired man who lived his life hunting books. Who disappeared after saving his life after Jack had saved his. It was... bittersweet, almost.

With a small sigh and headshake to get him out of that headspace, the fae slid open the parlor door with tray in hand and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Rodriguez. A pleasure to meet you. I'm looking forward to the... to the... inter. Interview."

Jack's smile faded and his eyes locked onto the man on the couch. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. This was... quite a surprise. The fae remained quiet, hands clenched tight on either side of the tray. He was careful not to put too much pressure but he couldn't help but shake as he looked down at the man seated on his couch.
 

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Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

"Jack?!" Conrad leapt to his feet, the tension coiled up in his gut suddenly exploding into a wildfire of nerves. Sweaty palms, heightened pulse, a throbbing heartbeat. No — a tightened chest. This was either a panic attack or a pang of disbelief. He had to be dreaming. He slapped himself in the face. He rubbed his eyes. He whispered to himself in The Language to remove any kind of magic spell placed on his perception and let him see clearly, but no change. He even focused through what could have been fae glamours and yet...

It really was him.

"Wh-, wha-- it was you?!" He winced internally at the utter incomprehensibility of his speech. Minus ten points for both grammatical obscurity and for awful enunciation. "The stories, the novels, the similarities to our adventures... it was all you?!"

He started pacing the floor. This was too much to take in. None of this made sense. "But... but..." he sputtered, "but how?! I mean, you live in this alternate? On Manta Carlos? How have we not met? Like actually, how?" He found himself shaking Jack's shoulders just to make sure he was tangible. To make sure he was real. The comforting muscularity of him; the way the slits of his eyes caught the edges of the light; the way his ears twitched with excitement and tail straightened in rigid shock...

Holy shit. This was Jack. The real Jack.

And he had been ready to kill him.
 
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ArcanaFate

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Jack quietly set the tray down as Conrad paced about, ranting and raving about how 'it was him' and 'how have we not met'. He didn't quite know how to feel, in all honesty. This was Conrad, his Conrad. His best friend. The man who saved his life. The man whose life he had saved. The two had adventured together in the past and then the Librarian had just... vanished. Disappeared. Went off on some other adventure and had left Jack behind.

It had hurt, but... it had been for the best. Jack recovered, reprioritized. Settled into his home, started a family. It was nice! But there were questions that needed to be answered.

With Conrad's hands on his shoulders, Jack's now free hands slid around the other man and pulled him into a very tight hug. "Conrad, I've missed you, old friend. I'm glad to see you safe. It's nice to see you haven't changed too much." He laughed as he rested his chin on the Librarian's shoulder. "Tell me about what you've been up to and I'll do the same. I'm just glad to see you."
 

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Conrad flushed.
This was too intimate.

Their bodies pressed up against each other, the warmth of a close, genuine, heartfelt hug... it did nothing to settle his racing heartbeat and tightened chest but everything to soothe his tightly wound nerves. His eyes found themselves watering at the unexpected reunion, and goddamn it he was crying.

"Old friend?" he laughed through the tears. "What are we, old men?" His hands automatically found themselves wrapping around the fae's back. "I've been around. Acquiring books. The usual. I just... I never thought I'd see you again. Least of all here. In this stupidly huge mansion. In the place I just so happen to be sort-of permanently stationed."
 

ArcanaFate

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Jack felt himself chuckle as Conrad returned the hug. His arms squeezed the Librarian as if to confirm that this was real. "Let me have this moment. I've missed you terribly and wondered if you were even still alive." He nuzzled into the hug, a low rumble vibrating in his chest as the two embraced. Yes, he was purring. No, he wouldn't be embarrassed about it.

"Still working for the Library, then. But permanently stationed? So what, you just live on Manta Carlos now and collect books all day? That sounds... almost uneventful. But it must be a good thing, right?" Jack asked, pulling back to look at his friend but not letting go of the hug. His mismatched eyes sparked with excitement while his tail swished back and forth. "Tell me all about it."
 

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He smirked. Something about this was decidedly wholesome. Much less flirty and much more genuine. "Might as well. Good thing you prepared some tea. With a flourish, too." He grinned as he went to go pour himself a cup of hot leaf juice and grinned even wider at the fae's clear reluctance to let him go so he could move properly. The tail swishing was cute.

"I trust you haven't poisoned this anyway, but just in case..." He said the usual chant he would often murmur into his food and drink, but openly used The Language aloud without reserve this time. It was nothing new to Jack. ["Any poison or harmful impurity contained within this drink, separate from it and drip down the side of the cup!"] He waited for the typical light headache to dissipate and relished in the pure power rush of issuing commands to the very universe around him. The teacup's sides were clean and dry. He grinned. He caught Jack up on the missions he'd gone on without giving too much details as to not bore the fae (and begrudgingly answering some of his questions) while drinking and checking the cookies and pastries before taking a few and eating them too.

"How about you?" he asked. "I mean, I've already done extensive research on 'J.T. Anderson,' but I'm asking as a formality. We're friends, after all," he added smugly.
 

ArcanaFate

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Jack couldn't help but roll his eyes at the mention of poison. Of course Jack wouldn't poison the tea or the teacup. That's just downright disrespectful. He wanted to actually entertain guests, not murder them. But he took his seat on the opposite side of Conrad and listened to the other's man adventures since they parted. The fae, of course, chimed in with various questions and the occasional flirty tease to watch his friend fluster. It was their usual banter and it was nice to finally settle back into the routine as if they hadn't been apart for over three years.

"Well, not too much is different. Y'know, except the arm." Jack held up the prosthetic arm, fingers wiggling about as dexterously as a normal hand. "Paid a pretty penny to get something new. It... it was hard, after you left. Having to remember how to work a hand, getting used to not going out. But I found my solace in writing and remember our adventures so I... I based my books on us."

He paused. "With some embellishments, of course." He grinned but his face shifted into a big smile as if he remembered something important. "Oh! One other big thing." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through it for a moment before reaching across the table to hand it off to Conrad.

The picture on the screen was of Jack and a young merboy, both swimming in a clear water pool. The merboy was blue with an angler antenna atop his head, smiling wide while Jack grinned at the camera. "I have a son now. His name is Sushi, he's part of the magic club at school, and he's so smart. I'm very proud of him. I'd love for you to meet him at some point, but he's currently at tutoring so he won't be home for some time."
 
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