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Language

Summary:

Rhys is speaking a language Jack doesn't understand

Notes:

I am from Ireland and happen to love the Irish language, then I played Borderlands 2 and found an Irish settlement...I couldn't resist.
Also, it is three in the morning so excuse any errors

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

'Níl, dúirt mé aon!' Rhys yelled to whoever it was on the other end of the line. 'Liom a dúirt tú cheana féin, níl mé ag dul!' he hung up angrily and marched into the kitchen.

 

Jack turn towards Vaughn, silently asking for an explanation but got a shrug in return. 

The three had been sitting together in Rhys and Vaughn's small apartment. Jack and Rhys sat on the small sofa, Rhys curled up on Jack's side while Vaughn sat on the armchair, everything was quiet aside from the movie that was currently playing until Rhys received a call that sent him in a world wind of rage. He had been on the phone for nearly over an hour, speaking in a language Jack did not recognize what so ever.

Rhys came back into the living room again, a scowl etched across his face as he picked up empty glasses off of the coffee table. '-feck, cad soith...' he mumbled angrily and left to the kitchen again.

Vaughn sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, knocking his glasses astray in the process. 'Rhys!' he called, turning in his seat as he watched Rhys walk past them. He stopped and turned, 'Céard sa diabhal ba mhaith leat?' he growled, swinging around to face the two men.
'Rhys you need to calm down.'
'Cad?' his anger seemed to fade as he tilted his head questionably. 'You need to speak English bro, I can barely understand you.' Vaugh explained quietly.

Jack sat back in his seat and watched. 'Tá brón orm.' he apologises softly, shaking his head. '...Sé ceart go leor?' there was uncertainty in Vaughns voice as he replied in the language Jack still could not put his finger on. Rhys chuckled softly, 'Is ceart go leor.' he corrected playfully. 'Oh shut up, I tried okay?!' the two laughed before Rhys turned to Jack.

'I-I'm sorry about that. My brother called, asked if I wanted to go "home". But I'm pretty sure all he wanted was for someone to pay for his poteen I mean aon bhealach tá mé ag dul ar ais go ceann de na shebeens-'
'Rhys, you're doing it again.' Vaughn reminded with a laugh.
'What language are you even fucking speaking anyway?!' Jack interrupted out of pure spite and curiosity. 'Irish. My mam was from Overlook.' Rhys provided, sitting back down with a small smile on his face. 

'...fucking weirdo...' Jack muttered, turning his attention back to the T.V.
'Póg mo thóin Jack.'

Notes:

'No, I said no!'

'I already told you, I'm not going!'

'-feck, what a bitch...' (feck means fuck but is commonly used in English)

'What the hell do you want?'

'What?'

'I'm sorry.'

'... He's okay?'

'It's okay.'

'-no way I'm going back to one of the shebeens- ' (poteen =illegal whiskey from early nineteenth century, shebeens= illegal drinking houses from early nineteenth century)

'Kiss my ass Jack.'