[The hell of it is, this shouldn't be hard. The code is six whole "digits" long. But then he's at the panel, and things start to slip out on the edges. He loses track of what he's been doing. Blinks his eyes open to blood in his mouth and the afterimage of burning green behind his eyes and no idea how much time has passed since he'd struggled his way through the creeping dark. It's making him twitchy in a way he really doesn't like. Frustrating the part of him that know how this should be playing out, that really can't stand getting his control ripped away from him. But it only really seems to make him more stubborn about seeing it through.
Adrian takes an alarming little dip into the drink, and for a heartbeat Jason thinks he's finally actually fucked this up. But then the guy comes sputtering back up, and okay. Third try is the charm and all. Lets make it the last.
Soundproofing or no, he gets enough of the gist of that very selfless ask. Here's an answer that doesn't need volume—He very pointedly rolls his eyes. Give him a little credit, bud. Rather than entertain this self sacrificing bullcrap, he taps at the window where the binder is as Adrian has it up to the glass.]
Hold it right there. Don't move.
[Very normal rescuer behavior so far, right? Wrong! Alarmingly, he rolls up a sleeve, draws an oddly waved knife and... starts tracing out an extremely shorthand version of the code onto the back of his arm.
Not in very much detail, just enough to recognize them on the console when he gets there. (And not enough to draw a ton of blood—he's not a masochist, thanks.) Enough of a scratch to catch his eye if he's forgotten he's done it. He could try a bit of debris, a scrap of paper. But given the way the past few attempts had ended, he's not feeling like taking many chances. Last time he only got halfway through before the rest of it slipped through his fingers. It's the best way to make sure he's not going to lose it.
Drawing horrible eldritch sigils on himself with his own blood is fine, probably. (You've seen Memento, right Adrian? No?)]
adrian baby boy... &I'm so sorry for him
Adrian takes an alarming little dip into the drink, and for a heartbeat Jason thinks he's finally actually fucked this up. But then the guy comes sputtering back up, and okay. Third try is the charm and all. Lets make it the last.
Soundproofing or no, he gets enough of the gist of that very selfless ask. Here's an answer that doesn't need volume—He very pointedly rolls his eyes. Give him a little credit, bud. Rather than entertain this self sacrificing bullcrap, he taps at the window where the binder is as Adrian has it up to the glass.]
Hold it right there. Don't move.
[Very normal rescuer behavior so far, right? Wrong! Alarmingly, he rolls up a sleeve, draws an oddly waved knife and... starts tracing out an extremely shorthand version of the code onto the back of his arm.
Not in very much detail, just enough to recognize them on the console when he gets there. (And not enough to draw a ton of blood—he's not a masochist, thanks.) Enough of a scratch to catch his eye if he's forgotten he's done it. He could try a bit of debris, a scrap of paper. But given the way the past few attempts had ended, he's not feeling like taking many chances. Last time he only got halfway through before the rest of it slipped through his fingers. It's the best way to make sure he's not going to lose it.
Drawing horrible eldritch sigils on himself with his own blood is fine, probably. (You've seen Memento, right Adrian? No?)]