Jack's used to running into Angela a couple hours before dawn. They're the worst sleepers in Overwatch. Sometimes Jack forces himself to stay in bed, as if he can discipline himself into making it take. Counting legions of sheep.
When that doesn't work, he walks. Brisk and determined in spite of the fact he has nowhere to be. So if anyone runs into him, he looks busy. The trick is to keep a file folder tucked under one arm at all times.
Nothing to see here. Just Commander Jack Morrison displaying his excellent work ethic. Everything is under control. Move along.
Even if the pills sitting on his bed-side table say otherwise.
Sometimes he does laps around the hangar. Sometimes he opens the door, and screams obscenities into the howling wind. The one place no one will hear him. Minus the sound-proofed cells beneath the complex. Those, however, are too well monitored.
"Genji?" He's not used to running into Blackwatch's newest recruit. The younger Shimada. Machine in body, man at heart.
"What are you doing here? Is there a deployment I'm not aware of?" As he cuts around the edge of a large back, trying to (not so subtly) see what the hell the kid is doing on the cement floor.
Hopefully not jerking it. That would be... more than awkward.
Ninja should never be snuck up on. Unfortunately Genji is a little distracted right now, and not for any of the reasons Morrison might be thinking.
Instead he startles, bounding to his feet (fully armored still, thank you) as shurikens dispense from his arm at the ready... except they clatter to the ground with a high pitched tinging noise that seems to echo in the cavernous space of the hanger. He curses again, staring down at them as they vibrate on the floor. Eventually red eyes drag up to Morrison's face and he realizes he probably should have thought up an excuse for what he's doing there other than the obvious.
"I am not on a mission. I have returned from one." Whatever he's holding is now behind his back as he holds his arms behind him, trying to pretend to be at attention and nonchalant. He just hangs out in shadowy corners all the time for fun. It's a ninja thing.
He's never been very convincing when trying to talk his way out of dumb things he's done so he doesn't even try now. From what he knows of Morrison he has a hunch it won't work on him anyway.
A brow raise at the shuriken. He leans down and picks one up, curious. He's never seen one up close before. Blackwatch is Gabe's arena. Jack only dots the i's and crosses the t's on the Un reports and cheque-books. Fingertip pushing experimentally on one sharp edge.
Jack follows their work digitally, of course, but has yet to see the ninja in action face to face. Something he'd like to remedy if he could scrape up the time. A commander should stand side by side with his men, not read about their exploits from the safety of a tablet.
"You returned from the mission six hours ago. I read the debrief."
His eyes flick back up to Genji's face. Glad he can see his eyes. The mask gives nothing away.
"What's behind your back?" Always to the point. He minces enough words during meetings with politicians and diplomats. Jack tries not to bullshit his own people whenever possible.
His initial response is in Japanese and wouldn't be convincing even if Morrison understood. It's a reflex to instinctively deny he did anything even with all evidence to the contrary.
Has it really been six hours? He hasn't made much progress since then if that's the case. But that does explain why he feels like utter shit, probably should have had something to eat and drink at some point after getting back. But he'd been too focused on trying to fix this issue before anyone noticed. Before he had to admit he failed at something, that he was fallible even as a robot.
Very slowly and with small jerky motions he brings his hands forward, as if his arms are attached to marionette strings and he's trying to move them with just the sheer force of his mind and not the muscles and cybernetics that power them.
Both hands come forward, but only one is still attached. In his flesh and blood hand he's holding the fingers from the other, wires and sharp bits of metal poking out of what's left of the palm of his cybernetic hand.
"I was fixing this." For the past six hours apparently.
Jack thought the kid might be drinking. Wouldn't be the first time he caught an agent hiding in the hangar with a bottle. Or porn, maybe. The barracks aren't perfectly private, and some people are more shy than others.
He's regretting taking an evening stroll already.
"You know, it isn't necessarily my busine--" Then Genji hands over his... hand? Jack can't hide the horror on his face, jumping back a foot. He's seen a lot of shit in his time, and while this is nowhere near the worst of it, the shock factor has to count for something.
"Genji! What the hell? Why are you fixing this on your own? Has Dr. Ziegler seen this? Jesus christ..." He reaches out, to tentatively give one of the fritzed mechanical fingers a poke. Brow fretted so hard he just gave himself a new set of wrinkles.
"It is agonizing. I can still feel them." Well that wasn't entirely true. What he could feel was his hand. His actual, original hand that was probably still on the floor of the temple on the Shimada estate back in Hananura. Along with his legs.
"It is the third time I have broken it." He closes his hand around the pieces pulling back as Jack recovers and comes forward again. Of course he'd be horrified that his new robotic recruit wasn't performing up to snuff, he was probably going to trade Genji in for a new one that wasn't defective. "It was not intentional."
More than a little defensive, as if Jack was about to tell him he's wasting company funds.
Eyes narrowing, his frown is mostly obscured by the helmet. "It is nothing. I will deal with it and I do not need to go to the infirmary."
"Third time?" Jack's brow shoots up in disbelief. He's not thinking about the money. Jack, for all that he's the all-powerful commander of Overwatch, actually doesn't give a fuck about how much money they do or don't spend. That's for the accountants to worry about.
You can't put a price on freedom, or the brave few who risk their lives to keep it.
His jaw works. His own hand aching in sympathy as he clenches his fingers into an overly tight fist, nails cutting into his palm. The wounds will heal in a matter of minutes. Jack has the privilege of designer genetics. Genji doesn't even have the privilege of his own limbs.
"That's completely unacceptable, and it's not nothing." His eyes scan Genji's eyes, and for a moment the the younger Hanamura looks so young, it makes Jack question his own judgment in recruiting him.
But where else would Genji go? Angela seemed to think it was for the best, and Jack didn't question her.
"You're a member of this team, Genji, and entitled to the same standard of care. We don't operate out of a state of the art facility, with the best scientists, doctors, and soldiers, in the world for nothing. People are relying on us to stay strong." Jack doesn't reach out to grab him, they aren't that familiar with each other, yet, but he offers his hand.
"C'mon. Let's get you patched up. You being in rough shape looks bad on me. Can't have that, right? Gotta keep this squeaky-clean image or they won't give us the big dollars." Maybe Jack's playing a little dirty, but it's for a good cause.
"I sometimes cannot feel where my hand is and then do not put it precisely where I want." Still on the defensive, explaining his actions because he is not at fault for this injury. What Jack is saying makes sense, and on some level he realizes it's stupid to sit in the dark and try to fix his hand with a tiny screwdriver when there's a multi-million dollar hospital and lab at their disposal. But he hasn't been here that long and isn't sure what will be the final straw to get him kicked out or dumped back in Hanamura where his brother will finish the job he started.
Jack extends his hand and Genji stares at it as if he'd just offered him a jar full of tarantulas. He doesn't take it. But he does seem to acquiesce and turn to head out of the hanger.
"I do not mean to reflect poorly on you." and he means it. They'd taken him in, given him a purpose and an outlet to channel his rage and bitterness in a somewhat productive way that isn't him going on a self destructive murderous rampage. Yet still he brings dishonor. Like always.
"Sounds frustrating." Jack can imagine, but he can't empathize. Not really. He was lucky to survive the war in one piece. More than lucky, considering his super-human healing abilities. He took fatal shots on the regular, and all he has to show for his defiance of death are a handful of scars.
It's been a long time since anyone's rejected a handshake from Jack Morrison. He almost doesn't know what to do with his hand after, allowing it to fall awkwardly back to his side.
Jack doesn't know what he's done to earn Genji's mistrust. For split second, he's annoyed at the ninja. Frustrated. He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath through his nose, and remembers which one of them suffered a recent, traumatic incident at the hands of their own brother.
Genji's suspicion a direct result of Jack's failure to earn his trust. Jack hasn't reached out before now. Left Genji's care to Angela, and his duties to Gabe. He could use one of a thousand excuses, but the truth is... it never occurred to him.
Jack's been too busy. Too distracted. Too tired. Too fucking apathetic, at the end of the day, when it feels like the work's taken everything but the air in his lungs.
"You don't reflect poorly on me. That was a joke. A bad one." He follows after Genji, determined not to let him slip away. He's not falling through the cracks this time, or the next. That much, Jack can control. Herding him towards the infirmary like a particularly persistent blonde sheepdog.
"I've read the mission reports. You're performing as well as can be expected. Better, even. Reyes thinks you're a great addition to Blackwatch, and that's saying something. He's not an easy man to impress, and neither am I. We can and will do whatever it takes to keep you on the team. Your health, comfort, and safety are the bare minimum."
"It is. It feels like.." He trails off, rotating his metal arm around and rubbing at his shoulder. "If you stay in one place too long and your foot falls asleep, when the blood flows back it feels as though your veins are full of ground glass. It is similar, but constant. The sensors in the armor do not feel .. right. Or the way I expect it to, perhaps this is the way it's supposed to work." He rubs his metal palm with his thumb. He doesn't want to sound ungrateful, especially since he'd have been dead otherwise. The fact that he's not only alive but walking and able to interact with things is genuinely a scientific miracle.
But he can't help but be bitter he had to become this science experiment to begin with.
"I am? He does?" Genji blinks and looks over at Jack's face, wondering if he's making that up to try and be nice. Though it doesn't seem like the Commander would make up much of anything. There's probably an edict somewhere that would get him court marshaled if he lied to one of his recruits, even about something so minor.
"Thank you."
Like a man condemned to death he approaches Angela to confess his failures, met with her chiding him and being more than a little exasperated he'd waited this long to get aid.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: For Dadjoke
When that doesn't work, he walks. Brisk and determined in spite of the fact he has nowhere to be. So if anyone runs into him, he looks busy. The trick is to keep a file folder tucked under one arm at all times.
Nothing to see here. Just Commander Jack Morrison displaying his excellent work ethic. Everything is under control. Move along.
Even if the pills sitting on his bed-side table say otherwise.
Sometimes he does laps around the hangar. Sometimes he opens the door, and screams obscenities into the howling wind. The one place no one will hear him. Minus the sound-proofed cells beneath the complex. Those, however, are too well monitored.
"Genji?" He's not used to running into Blackwatch's newest recruit. The younger Shimada. Machine in body, man at heart.
"What are you doing here? Is there a deployment I'm not aware of?" As he cuts around the edge of a large back, trying to (not so subtly) see what the hell the kid is doing on the cement floor.
Hopefully not jerking it. That would be... more than awkward.
no subject
Instead he startles, bounding to his feet (fully armored still, thank you) as shurikens dispense from his arm at the ready... except they clatter to the ground with a high pitched tinging noise that seems to echo in the cavernous space of the hanger. He curses again, staring down at them as they vibrate on the floor. Eventually red eyes drag up to Morrison's face and he realizes he probably should have thought up an excuse for what he's doing there other than the obvious.
"I am not on a mission. I have returned from one." Whatever he's holding is now behind his back as he holds his arms behind him, trying to pretend to be at attention and nonchalant. He just hangs out in shadowy corners all the time for fun. It's a ninja thing.
He's never been very convincing when trying to talk his way out of dumb things he's done so he doesn't even try now. From what he knows of Morrison he has a hunch it won't work on him anyway.
no subject
Jack follows their work digitally, of course, but has yet to see the ninja in action face to face. Something he'd like to remedy if he could scrape up the time. A commander should stand side by side with his men, not read about their exploits from the safety of a tablet.
"You returned from the mission six hours ago. I read the debrief."
His eyes flick back up to Genji's face. Glad he can see his eyes. The mask gives nothing away.
"What's behind your back?" Always to the point. He minces enough words during meetings with politicians and diplomats. Jack tries not to bullshit his own people whenever possible.
"Contraband?" The barest hint of a smirk.
no subject
Has it really been six hours? He hasn't made much progress since then if that's the case. But that does explain why he feels like utter shit, probably should have had something to eat and drink at some point after getting back. But he'd been too focused on trying to fix this issue before anyone noticed. Before he had to admit he failed at something, that he was fallible even as a robot.
Very slowly and with small jerky motions he brings his hands forward, as if his arms are attached to marionette strings and he's trying to move them with just the sheer force of his mind and not the muscles and cybernetics that power them.
Both hands come forward, but only one is still attached. In his flesh and blood hand he's holding the fingers from the other, wires and sharp bits of metal poking out of what's left of the palm of his cybernetic hand.
"I was fixing this." For the past six hours apparently.
no subject
He's regretting taking an evening stroll already.
"You know, it isn't necessarily my busine--" Then Genji hands over his... hand? Jack can't hide the horror on his face, jumping back a foot. He's seen a lot of shit in his time, and while this is nowhere near the worst of it, the shock factor has to count for something.
"Genji! What the hell? Why are you fixing this on your own? Has Dr. Ziegler seen this? Jesus christ..." He reaches out, to tentatively give one of the fritzed mechanical fingers a poke. Brow fretted so hard he just gave himself a new set of wrinkles.
"Doesn't that hurt?"
no subject
"It is the third time I have broken it." He closes his hand around the pieces pulling back as Jack recovers and comes forward again. Of course he'd be horrified that his new robotic recruit wasn't performing up to snuff, he was probably going to trade Genji in for a new one that wasn't defective. "It was not intentional."
More than a little defensive, as if Jack was about to tell him he's wasting company funds.
Eyes narrowing, his frown is mostly obscured by the helmet. "It is nothing. I will deal with it and I do not need to go to the infirmary."
Accepting help is a weakness.
no subject
You can't put a price on freedom, or the brave few who risk their lives to keep it.
His jaw works. His own hand aching in sympathy as he clenches his fingers into an overly tight fist, nails cutting into his palm. The wounds will heal in a matter of minutes. Jack has the privilege of designer genetics. Genji doesn't even have the privilege of his own limbs.
"That's completely unacceptable, and it's not nothing." His eyes scan Genji's eyes, and for a moment the the younger Hanamura looks so young, it makes Jack question his own judgment in recruiting him.
But where else would Genji go? Angela seemed to think it was for the best, and Jack didn't question her.
"You're a member of this team, Genji, and entitled to the same standard of care. We don't operate out of a state of the art facility, with the best scientists, doctors, and soldiers, in the world for nothing. People are relying on us to stay strong." Jack doesn't reach out to grab him, they aren't that familiar with each other, yet, but he offers his hand.
"C'mon. Let's get you patched up. You being in rough shape looks bad on me. Can't have that, right? Gotta keep this squeaky-clean image or they won't give us the big dollars." Maybe Jack's playing a little dirty, but it's for a good cause.
no subject
Jack extends his hand and Genji stares at it as if he'd just offered him a jar full of tarantulas. He doesn't take it. But he does seem to acquiesce and turn to head out of the hanger.
"I do not mean to reflect poorly on you." and he means it. They'd taken him in, given him a purpose and an outlet to channel his rage and bitterness in a somewhat productive way that isn't him going on a self destructive murderous rampage. Yet still he brings dishonor. Like always.
no subject
It's been a long time since anyone's rejected a handshake from Jack Morrison. He almost doesn't know what to do with his hand after, allowing it to fall awkwardly back to his side.
Jack doesn't know what he's done to earn Genji's mistrust. For split second, he's annoyed at the ninja. Frustrated. He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath through his nose, and remembers which one of them suffered a recent, traumatic incident at the hands of their own brother.
Genji's suspicion a direct result of Jack's failure to earn his trust. Jack hasn't reached out before now. Left Genji's care to Angela, and his duties to Gabe. He could use one of a thousand excuses, but the truth is... it never occurred to him.
Jack's been too busy. Too distracted. Too tired. Too fucking apathetic, at the end of the day, when it feels like the work's taken everything but the air in his lungs.
"You don't reflect poorly on me. That was a joke. A bad one." He follows after Genji, determined not to let him slip away. He's not falling through the cracks this time, or the next. That much, Jack can control. Herding him towards the infirmary like a particularly persistent blonde sheepdog.
"I've read the mission reports. You're performing as well as can be expected. Better, even. Reyes thinks you're a great addition to Blackwatch, and that's saying something. He's not an easy man to impress, and neither am I. We can and will do whatever it takes to keep you on the team. Your health, comfort, and safety are the bare minimum."
no subject
But he can't help but be bitter he had to become this science experiment to begin with.
"I am? He does?" Genji blinks and looks over at Jack's face, wondering if he's making that up to try and be nice. Though it doesn't seem like the Commander would make up much of anything. There's probably an edict somewhere that would get him court marshaled if he lied to one of his recruits, even about something so minor.
"Thank you."
Like a man condemned to death he approaches Angela to confess his failures, met with her chiding him and being more than a little exasperated he'd waited this long to get aid.
How he suffers.