unpocoloco | Daybreak IC Inbox

Nah, but she'll be grateful you bothered. Not everyone would! Besides, even if I'm accidentally copying some loser, it's better than the alternative, isn't it?

[Thinking he'd been murdered, and all... Though oocly, it would be a lovely dichotomy with Héctor.]

Just make sure you tell her I love her, all that shit. We'll be square.

[He brings up a hand in surrender.]

Alright, alright. I can't deny a man his last words. She'll know.

[Even in this morbid joke scenario, he can't help taking that part seriously.]

But I'm warning you; you die, and I'll haunt your ghost. You will never hear the end of it.

[And he appreciates it, underneath the derisive snort. Mama should know full well by now how much he loves her and how we would do anything for her, but...he figures it will be nice to have other people remind her of it when he's gone. He could never say it enough, really.]

That's fucked up. Didn't you learn nothing? Let a man rest, fuck's sake.

[She could use hearing it. Maverick would just as much need it said. He knows.]

Not a chance. I will bang pots and pans over your grave. No rest for the wicked, mi amigo, you're staying on this side at least as long as I am.

Excuse you? I may be an asshole, but I ain't wicked. That shit's just gonna get you arrested, no matter how many pretty words you got for Mama. Fucking lunatic.

[He sort of hates that he feels his insides going cold at the playful threat, though. Staying alive is something he's good with. Sticking around when he's supposed to be dead and gone is just...creepy. Scary. Pointless.]

[Ay, he's pushed too far. The mirth leaves, and though he's still got a faint smile, it's something sorry.]

I can handle being arrested. Happened enough times now. Not really good handling lost family.

[He reaches over for Maverick's shoulder. Just a light touch before drawing back.]

I wouldn't do that. Not to you. Doesn't work like that anyway.

Hn.

[Not good at handling lost family... For a second he thinks he doesn't know what that's like, but then he remembers that as much as he tried to deny it sometimes, Kano counted, now. That made both of them, then, and it also made that frozen feeling warm some. Enough that he can sigh and not feel like his lingers were being shredded, anyway.]

Yeah, yeah. I know it's just a fucking joke, you don't gotta tell me. [He's not bothered, gosh!!!] We fucking agreed anyway. Me dying anytime soon ain't the plan.

[Because that's absolutely how it works.]

[The joke is ruined, the game ended. But maybe that's okay.]

Si, we did agree, that's true. No dying.

[His smile comes back a little brighter. He waits a moment, then decides that a shoulder touch isn't enough. Reaches out for something of a side hug, pulling Maverick close.]

Sorry for that, mijo.

[Like a normal teen, instead of the one sullen and scared of becoming undead, he reluctantly allows the hug with little more than a grumble of complaint. Come onnnn, you're embarrassing him...]

Whatever. Man, you're so fucking handsy... [And yet after Mav weakly pushes him away in rebellious protest, he reaches down to catch Héctor's hand in his before he can get too far. Shut up.]

[A grumble and a shove away and he's backing off. Or trying to. A hand has found his and he looks from it to the boy's face. His smile spreads with the warming of his heart.

He offers Maverick some mercy and doesn't say anything. He simply squeezes back and hangs on, turning his smile skyward, content.]

[As gratefulness and peace ease his heart, the camera pans up to the sky, dark and beginning to glitter gently with watchful stars. They won't need words for their walk around and back, but Mav offers a cheery farewell at the end of it all anyway.

Days later, that peace has been worked up into something more yet again, and Maverick paces his new room at the inn, box to half-unpacked box, trying to figure out what he wanted where and what time is it, when is this dumbass gonna show the fuck up already, THEY'VE GOT DRINKS TO DRINK, BUDDY]

[Patience, Maverick, he can't just set an alarm on undeath.

To his own credit, the moment he is up and able, he's hurrying along. His guitar is on his back but his cane is left back in the dorm, and good thing too with his arms full with bottles. It's a bit of some frantic navigation and asking for directions within the in, but sure enough, he's reached the door, kicking at it with his foot.]

Ay, mijo, open up or we'll be crying over spilled bottles!

[He's never been good at patience...but his waiting around will be rewarded, this he's sure of. On the way to Mav's room, Héctor will pass by some parts of the inn that need some construction, but all in all it's the same cozy, warm, welcoming space it's always been since Ramona took up the helm. Even if he decided to show up as a skeleton, no one would bat an eye at the Inn of Atropos, which will be apparent when someone's just hanging out the main lobby without a glamour chattering away. Maverick's love and trust in his mother can overcome any prejudice.

Which helps in not hesitating to open the door when Héctor makeshimself known. If home is where you feel safe and supported, he feels far more at home here than he ever did at Daybreak, where he was acutely aware of where he kept is nice every step he took.]

Ah, my good friend! Just who I wanted to see. Oh, and Esqueletío's here, too, or something. [He laughs and eagerly goes to hel, ah, ease Héctor's burden.]

[The sight of beings without glamours, something he doesn't even always see in Daybreak, makes his breath catch. It had been that way first coming to Daybreak. A bit of wonder at the possibility he could be safe somewhere, that there were others.

But he doesn't shift. He knows Maverick's preferences.

He barks a laugh, jubliant. He quickly surrenders half to Maverick.]

Hey, be careful, that there was my amigo first.

[He makes his way inside, spirits already lifted.]

The move went well, I'm guessing? I'm going to call for that pizza now unless you're set on a kitchen raid.

Nah, they'll still deliver, I've ordered later. Asked Mama to keep an eye out.

[He wanders in, nonchalant. The place is a distinct divide between orderly inn room and Maverick's strewn about shit, even if his most Maverick of things were left back at Ramona's apartment. You know, like the dick chair. For some reason, she didn't want that in her workplace.]

Yeah, things are good. Uh, Mousie's thinkin' about coming down here for a while, too. Guess he's got girlfriend drama...

[He doesn't know it but he's glad to be without the knowledge of the dick chair. Or to at least not have witnessed it.]

Mousie? You've got to leave me a guidebook for all these nicknames sometime, chamaco.

[This isn't the first time Maverick's completely lost him that way.

He sets those bottles down, then pulls out his phone to find that number.]

Oh, Esqueletío... You disappoint me. My nicknames a pretty damn good, if you'd fucking bother to put any thought into it. You're not even trying!

[He's teasing, but also it's true. Only fitting nicknames in this house. He's quiet (for him) while Héctor makes his call, softly cursing when the bottles clink together or he struggles with the top, and while he gets two glasses out, in the end he flops onto his bed near the headboard, ensures there's a cleared space for Héctor, and drinks straight from the bottle.]

[With the call complete, (and only a little bit of grinning and silent snickering at Maverick's bottle trouble) he picks up where they left off.]

Mousie has me thinking someone small, quiet, possibly likes cheese. Those are vauge and broad descriptors you know.

[He takes up a bottle for himself and settles back in that cleared out space. He shows off with his effortless removal of the top.]

But the mouse is a he and has a girlfriend. Hm. Still got nothing, I don't keep up with all the romantic antics you kids get into.

[you got lucky is all........ he'll drown his inadequacies in booze.]

Yeah? I think of a skittering little shit that squeaks and panics, running off before you can do any fucking thing about it. Fluffy little fucker with a surprisingly mean set of teeth. That help?

[He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. Then he frowns, brows furrowing. He... does have a better idea, but if he says it, that feels cruel. And worse, if he's wrong, he's going to look like the ass here.

He makes a fave at Maverick, just so it's clear the trap he's been put in and how much he doesn't like it before he speaks.]

Mmmmokay. But he's been doing better.

... besides the girlfriend troubles I guess.

[haha yeah... that's what happens when you play with Maverick.]

Oh, for sure. I'm really...fucking proud of him, actually. Even the breaking up with Florida Woman thing, that's -- I think it's good for him. He's taking care of himself. I feel like...

[He hesitates, bringing the bottle back up to his lips but not drinking again just yet,]

If he can do it, I can do it. So I wanna see him while he's fucking doing it. He says he wants to, though -- move here, if they let him off the leash.

[Florida woman! He knows that one!

... Wow, he didn't know those two were dating. He doesn't see how that one worked. Except it didn't.

And then his expression is softening out of that surprise. His head tilts Maverick's way.]

You can do it. Both of you can.

[He's sure of it. The confidence comes easy. He smiles just a little.]

I think that sounds like a good plan though. And I'm really hoping they follow through on letting him free. He's definitely earned it... and it sounds like the both of you have gotten back on better terms. I'm glad to hear that.

[It was simultaneously a mess and something that made sense, which isn't exactly something Mav can judge, given his own love life or even just relationships in general. He rolls his eyes and tries to shrug off the comments. Come on, he hasn't had enough yet for this kind of talk, it's all too embarrassing...]

No shit? He realized I wasn't the fucking enemy and I actually knew what the fuck I was talking about, of course things are better. Only... [Now Maverick frowns again, more worried and contemplative than his previous uncaring show.] He doesn't remember who Cricket is. I know his memory's shit, and he doesn't like thinking about things that get complicated, but that's a whole new level...

I asked Cricket if it was something he did -- like another Contract. I could see that, you know? Fucking dumbass. But he didn't know anything about it. You ever see Mousie forget something big like that?

[He just gives a pointed look when Maverick rolls his eyes. He knows you've got your act, tough guy.

He pauses in drinking, lowering his bottle down when Maverick speaks of forgetting. He's heard of people being forgotten. Maverick himself held an example with his parents. He shakes his head, brow furrowing.]

He's always sort of had trouble hanging on to things. Like you said, his memory isn't that good and he gets overwhelmed. But it was always little things... people he didn't talk to much.

[Even with the traumatic, simply forgetting a person but remembering things around that person, he's not sure how that works.]

I don't know. It's something I'd see a doctor for but I wouldn't know how to bring that forward.

Yeah. I fucking dunno...

[With a heavy sigh and a free hand running through his hair, he goes back to his drink.]

Like I didn’t have enough shit I had to talk to him about already... I dunno how to bring up the — the whole “my boyfriend magicked you into fucking trying to drown yourself” thing. Or if I should... He’s better about not just saying the shit he needs to keep quiet, though. And he should fucking know?

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