#fun fact: he and schlomo became one sided nemeses because schlomo tried to diagnose him at a party

[viric-dreams]

I was thinking the other night about how Jones deals with people he doesn't like to varying degrees. He's not especially quick to anger, and far more forgiving than most of slights out of social incompetence rather than malice. That said, respect is important to him and he does not tolerate belittlement or attacks. He does, however, work viciously and quietly.

His behaviour is perfectly cordial with an arrogant socialite. However, should a glass of wine find itself spilt over their light-coloured outfit by the end of the evening, well, he was on the other end of the room and finds it a real shame.

Schlomo's crime was in presuming too much. An amusing man with whom to debate the nature of the mind until the moment he overstepped, made personal assertions about Jones that were no business of his to make. The man didn't even seem aware of the significance of the insult, simply prattling on. No matter. The right words to choice academics and deans ensured that Schlomo's struggled to publish any of his work or obtain funding to this day.

Jones never got catharsis with the guard who had made his life in New Newgate an extra level of hell. Instead, he had to sate himself with the Warden. The whisper campaign had gone on for months, questioning his competence, some scandal emerging that no one will talk about in specific but making him an unattractive candidate for any sort of job. In fact, he seemed to struggle to keep any sort of employment. And it's not long after that his wife left--Met someone else, she'd said. A name she can't seem to remember to this day. Friends abandoned him, one picked a knife fight over an alleged betrayal. It's not long after that that his sanity was called into question entirely, and after one too many visits to the Royal Beth, the man seems to have reached a breaking point and has simply not been seen since.

The Topsy King had crossed a line, one that had hit Jones far deeper than he would like to admit. Breaking into his home--his sanctuary--and sending the constables after him was unthinkable. Jones had told him what he'd wanted to hear to get the result he needed. It was only after the round of the Marvellous concluded and he'd gained his wealth back that he made his first move: A conveniently oblivious cat under the man's feet on the wrong Flit rooftop. He'll recover from the fall, and when he does, Jones intends to go after what remains of his mind, like a cat batting at a mouse. Until then, Jones has made another enemy: The Manager.

His insult was less egregious, though equally serious--messing with his mind. Already he'd caught word of an event held at the Beth, one whose caterers are conveniently unable to attend. No matter, a friend of a friend of The Manager seems to know of an agency, one entirely staffed by clay men. And at the end of a terse night... What an inconvenient moment to run into Schlomo, armed with some fascinating new insight into The Manager's past.