[It takes until now for him to even look at Crusher. He's honestly grown so used to the dumb bastard, he's already drowning him out after half a day.]
No, I uh.. it's my dog. From back home. I don't know how the fuck they got him, but the bastards at the bar gave him back to me. He just... makes that noise.
[He guesses he should prove that, though, he doesn't exactly have the right to expect trust from Hector. So he switches to video, to show a young, morbidly skinny dog laying on his floor and panting heavily. There's a puddle of drool under his mouth, soaking into his front paws, and he's still making that plaintive whining noise, looking at Dodger with eyes wide enough to show the whites.]
Crusher, shut up.
[Crusher licks his lips and stops whining, but he continues to pant so aggressively that it really makes no difference in the noise level.]
[He remembers Dodger's metaphor.Loyal to a fault. You train 'em right, and they'll crawl forward to follow you even if their legs are broken in pieces. They'll sit and watch you gorge yourself while they starve to death. His stomach turns.
He pities the thing. Even if Dodger hasn't hurt it, even if he hasn't starved it which it rather looks like he has, there's nothing good down here. But he can't save it.]
Okay.
[It's not but.]
I don't want you making things up to me. Whatever you're offering, I don't want it. You-
[He laughs bitterly. He still hasn't switched to video.]
You don't even understand what part of that... You came in my room. You acted like a friend. I told you things. And you...
Did you kill someone for that meat? Or was it just conveniently there?
No, I know. I get it. It isn't... the first time, yeah?
[It hadn't even been a minute since Dodger connected those dots for him, when he had lost his temper enough to kill Hector. But Hector is talking to him, so surely that means something.
And he's switching back to audio, because honestly, Crusher is a depressing thing to watch.]
I wasn't acting. I am your friend, you really matter to me, I... I've told you things I haven't told anyone else. I didn't mean to-...
[He guesses Hector doesn't want to hear it. He's silent for a moment, before just moving on to those questions.]
I didn't kill someone. I found them dead, and I... scavenged. It isn't the first time. I can't stand being hungry, Hector, I really can't. I was hungry all the time as a kid, I can't go back to living like that, not even for a moment. And seeing you holed up there with your ribs poking out, it...
[He hates a shaky breath.]
I was trying to help. I know I just made it worse, but I... I don't know. I'm just a monster.
[He drops that bluntly. More casual than he feels by far.]
And apparently poisoned by my best friend.
[Which makes the insistence of friendship that much worse.
He scrubs at his face where he sits.]
Fuck, Dodger.
[His voice cracks. He doesn't speak for a long moment. There might be the faint sound of hitched breath but only if Dodger's listening that close.]
You know I know that? I know you're messed up. I know, even for a sinner in Hell, which all of us are, that you're...something. I knew that when we met. I knew that when you kissed me.
But this isn't going to go away with an apology.
[He's never going to trust food right again. He's never going to fully trust someone who means well.]
I want you to understand something. I'm getting out of here. Out of Hell. I'm going to work off my list and get out. Whatever I have to do, carve myself up, chop off my limbs. Even make you kill me. But I am not putting another sin on that list. Not if I can help it. If you can't stand to look at me, Dodger, then don't look. Because I don't care. I would rather die- I'd rather starve, than take one more step from my girl.
[Of course he's listening. He hears that hitch in his breath and it makes something pang inside of him, like a guitar string snapping.
Somewhere in the back of his mind... it is nice. It is nice that Hector stuck around, put up with him, knowing even the sliver that Dodger's given him of the sort of person he is. Hector's always given him a fair listen, and that's more than he deserves on most days.]
'Your girl'... That a girlfriend, or... a daughter?
[He pauses. Is that why Hector had bitten him, egged him on? To return to his family?
In the state he'd been in, it hadn't mattered why Hector seemed to want to die. Afterward, Dodger had figured it was just blind fear, fighting back without knowing why. But if it was to keep himself on the path to redemption... well, he respects that. He might just have to change his mind about seeing Hector as a coward.]
...I like being here. This place is like paradise, better than anything I've got going back home. But... far be it from me to keep a good man from his family. So yeah, we're clear.
But hey. Fighting someone like me takes guts. If anyone's gonna make it outta here, I'd put my money on you.
[He's silent a long moment. He's not feeling his most forgiving or trusting at the moment. He still can't shake the sense that uttering her name damns her somehow too.
If Dodger could see him his face would be hardened steel.]
My daughter.
[He's silent a moment longer.]
I told you before. Whatever I've got to do, I'll do it. There's nothing I can't handle for someone who matters.
[His next words come out muffled, like a tired sigh into his hand.]
But I swear to god if you actually start putting a betting pool on me...
[He'd be unable to do a thing about it but he'd probably get a lot of unwanted attention.]
[He lets out a quiet laugh. It's honestly the most friendly noise he's made since they met.]
I think I had you pegged wrong, Hector. You're not a good man, you're a righteous one. You're better than I am.
[Even when it came between the love of his life and his own self-interest, Janet had taken the fall every time. He's never pretended to be someone trustworthy, not after letting her down and nearly killing her... hell, she might have actually died for all he knows.]
I never met my dad, y'know. He left before I was born. Sometimes I wonder if my mom would've made it, if he stuck around... or if it would've been worse. But I always figured if I ran into him, I'd rip him to shreds.
[A pause.]
...My point is, it ain't right to deny someone their father. Especially not a father like you. Can't promise I won't hurt you, but if you need help getting back to her, you can come to me. I'll do whatever you need me to, free of charge.
[A friendly noise after all this. He finds himself only sighing quietly in turn.]
Righteous is not the word I would use.
[He's still a sinner. Even if he certainly hopes he's a better man. He didn't kill Dodger.
To the rest, he stays silent. He's not unmoved, it still leaves him tired.]
A lot of men are like that. You get a lot of orphans that way. She still deserves a better father than me. But I'm what she's got.
I understand you want to make things better in your way, Dodger, but you are not going to be able to help me work off my list. The only other thing I could think to ask you is not to hurt those I care about here... but I'm really not counting on it. Not unless you become a very different person very fast.
[He sighs, nods on his end even if Hector can't see.]
I know. I know the best thing to do would just be to stay out of your way. But... Fuck, Hector. I'm really trying to... I don't know. I'm trying to do better.
[He pauses. For a few moments, all that can be heard on his end is Crusher quietly whining.]
Can I come see you for a bit? We can stay in public, I won't touch you, I won't give you anything, I just... [Another quiet sigh.] ...It was good, before... I... fucked up. Playing music, and just- talking. I don't want to lose that.
[He draws a breath. His eyes close and his head goes back. Once again he contemplates just... hanging up. Dodger would get the hint. Dodger might even leave him alone. Maybe.
He gets up.]
I'm going outside for a smoke. Front of the hotel, out of the way. I'm no teleporter but I shouldn't take long.
You can see me. But I don't know if it's going to be good. We've got a long way to go and I've got more on the mind than just you. I'll meet you in a few minutes.
[With that, he gets going. He grabs another sweater, his pack of cigarettes, his flask. He leaves the guitar and heads on down.
In no time at all he's outside, back in a chill that shouldn't be possible with the distant hellfire. He expects Dodger will be there already. He braces for the reaction when Dodger sees he's looking worse rather than better.]
[He honestly expects Hector to hang up. He's already surprised he hasn't been yelled at more. But he'll take whatever he can get, laying belly up in the face of the consequences for his own actions.
When Hector gets there Dodger is, indeed, already smoking outside. He's sitting on top of a bench - up on the back of it, with his feet in the seat. He hasn't worn his hoodie much since coming here but he's wearing it now, just because he needs the comfort.]
Hey.
[He looks Hector over once, before just... casting his eyes to the ground. He really doesn't like to see him like this, but it's not his place to fuss. Not when it's basically his own fault.]
Are you alright? I mean... [He gestures vaguely.] Did you- heal up okay?
[There was another reason he said it might not be any good. He knows what he looks like. Dark circles, increasingly sunken face; at least the rest of his body is hidden with the jeans and sweater. There's uneasiness aplenty, just to see Dodger and to have Dodger see him. But the man doesn't get up and that's... something he supposes.
He makes a face at the question. Hard not to when it's his murderer asking him but he gets it under control and makes his way to that bench. He settles on the seat properly for now, mostly because he's still got to light the cigarette he slips in his teeth and the lighter is a pain on a good day. Like last time, Dodger's caught him with stiff shaking fingers. He speaks around the thing.]
I'm back in one piece. Hurt waking up. And moving. But what else is new? Still poisoned. Probably good you didn't decide to use me too for your cooking experiments. Then I'd have taken you out.
[It's a little too dry to be a joke. He may or may not have gotten that thing lit yet.]
[Dodger tenses a bit at the sound of the lighter; he wants to reach over and light it for him, but he's sure he shouldn't come that close. So he keeps his hands to himself, trying not to look at Hector because it fucking hurts to.]
I didn't hurt you on purpose.
[He pauses.]
I know that doesn't... mean anything. I just- I've got a bad temper. I know I do. Shit sets me off and I just... don't back down. Even when I should. I've hurt people... worse than you. I held back as much as I could.
[None of this is helping his case. But he can't help the honesty, Hector is the only person he's spoken to about a lot of things. And he could really use an outlet for the thoughts in his head.]
[He gets the thing lit and thank god for that too. He needs to take a drag, to let the smoke sit in his lungs while he tries to process all of that. He finds himself likewise looking anywhere but at Dodger.]
I believe you.
I don't know about on purpose because you didn't exactly do it on accident, but I know you didn't plan for it.
[He'd planned to... feed him. To keep him alive. It's almost kind in a twisted way.]
But that's the problem. I don't know how to trust you. You can't even trust yourself. By all means, I never should have in the first place. But I let you in. And between you and my old friend- [His voice wavers.] -I'm finding it really hard to trust anybody.
I can't... give myself over if I can't trust. Or I'm just tearing at myself on purpose. I'm kind of stuck, Dodger.
[I don't know how to trust you. You can't even trust yourself.
He's heard that before. These are old excuses, and Janet never stood for them. He's glad that at least this isn't a fight, that they're just talking, but he doesn't really want to talk. He wants to reach out and touch Hector's back, or kiss him again, or... more. Because his body is the only thing that seems to make up for his personality, and the only positive thing he knows how to give is intimacy.]
You don't have to trust me, you know. I've got plenty of friends, back home and here, that I wouldn't turn my back on for a second.
[He takes a deep breath, and it comes out in a hollow laugh.]
Fuck, though... I never had to apologize to someone I killed before. Ivar - my boyfriend - I killed him a couple months back and we never talked about it. Like it never happened. I guess he figured we were even, since he killed me too.
[It was never awkward to bring it up until just now. He can't help feeling like every word out of his mouth is just making it worse, but he doesn't know how to change his strategy either. It's all uncharted territory.]
[He frowns. No surprise or argument there that there's people Dodger doesn't trust.
The second confession makes him wince. Before he might have asked; Doesn't that feel terrible? He understands better now.]
I don't know Ivar, or anything about him. So I'm just going to say this based on you and general people; he's messed up. You're both messed up. And that's comfortable for you.
You're apologizing but you have nothing to back it up. Take it from me, I apologize way too much, and eventually it's just words. Not to be on the nose but if you want to say sorry it's got to mean something. Repentance. Which is why I'm not sorry about biting your hand.
[He spares it the briefest glance. He feels guilty. Not that much.]
If this place were Earth you wouldn't get a second chance for killing me. That would be it. So you have to be uncomfortable here. You're going to try harder, if not for the first time in your life.
You're going to promise me, if you ever get that mad again, you're going to leave. Do your magic poofing and don't even finish the conversation. You're never going to get involved in any food or drink with me. Ever. You're going to tell me the truth where it matters. You're going to try.
If that sounds impossible or like it's not worth the time, there's your answer. But if you can tough it out enough then I can try to trust you.
[Killing Ivar hadn't felt like anything. It had just been another fight that he lost, but he'd been glad to take the bastard with him. There are other deaths he's caused that meant more. None of them ached the way that Hector's death had. None of them had driven him to hurting himself quite as hard.
He glances down at his hand. There's still a dark line across the older scars, marking where he was bitten.]
I don't blame you for biting me. You shouldn't be sorry.
[He listens to the rest though, quietly puffing his cigarette and finally stealing a glance at the other man. Only a glance, which he regrets, because he can't stand the sight of him. Every time he looks at him, his heart drops. And even after Hector's done speaking, he's stuck contemplating it silently.]
I don't make promises I can't keep, Hector. It's the only line I draw - I follow through whatever I say, because I fucking hate people who don't.
[He's stalling, speaking slowly while he tries to sort out his thoughts.]
But... I promise I'll leave if you tell me to. I promise I won't touch your food or drinks. And I promise I won't lie to you... but sometimes you're better off without the truth. Knowing too much can change you into someone you don't want to be. So if I tell you not to worry about something, I mean it. Alright?
[He's prepared to get up and walk away. And like a splitting path, he's as prepared to be allowed to walk off as he is to be thrown in the dirt and beaten into it. He's stopped aching in that particular way but it's close enough he can imagine it anyway. He's kind of amazed his hands aren't shaking. He doesn't feel brave.
He's surprised enough when Dodger goes on that he actually looks up.
He thinks how Nekane and Dodger are utterly unalike, with Nekane's tale of an apple out of reach that they were punished for... and Dodger insisting that to be without is better.
He thinks about how he already knows more than he wants. How Dodger treats his dog, people he knows, himself. How Dodger views the world. The cannibalism. If there was ever a time to protect him from knowing things he'd think it's rather passed.]
As long as you can follow the first, it should be fine.
[He shifts then, pushing himself up on the seat. He sits on the back of it, like Dodger does, a space still between then. But it's a smaller space. He holds out a hand to shake.]
This isn't me saying I forgive you, just that I'm giving you a chance to earn it. If that's really what you want from me.
[He hadn't expected that to be enough of an answer, honestly. So many people here are... more righteous than he would expect from Hell, enough to be appalled at the way he views the world.
But Hector has always given him a fair listen, and he would rather die and stay dead than give that up.
He stares at Hector's bony hand for a moment, before taking it. Not to shake, but to hold, squeeze gently, and let go. He's fully capable of crushing that hand without a thought. He wants to let the man know that he won't.]
Even if you don't forgive me... you're one of my best friends here. I'll do whatever I have to, to keep you safe... but I'll try and hold back if you tell me not to.
[He pauses for a moment.]
And I don't blame you for sending your friend after me. I earned that.
[The path to Hell was paved with good intentions, as they say.
It's not a proper shake and it makes some of the hardness of his expression slip down, leaving in its place something sorrowed, but it works for what they're trying to do. He draws his hand back.
He looks sadly on the man. It's kind of terrible that he's one of Dodger's best friends because, in all honesty, he hasn't been all that friendly to Dodger. Not by his own standards.]
Dodger, I--
[He cuts off, Dodger going on to add one more thing.]
What. [It comes out flat.] Sending a friend-- I didn't send anyone after you! I only told one person! And I told them not to do anything!
[He raises a brow. Sure, it had been a bit of surprise to learn Hector sent someone after him but... now that he thinks of it, it does make more sense to assume they were just being protective.]
Well, I guess I'm not the only one who's got some explaining to do, then.
[He lifts up his shirt, just enough to show his stomach. There's other scars there, but chief among them is the circular scars left from holes were the shadow hands had pierced through him. And once Hector's gotten a good look, his shirt drops back down.]
The girl in the suit, with the fucked-up wings. Soon as she heard my name, she started talking about you... then she gave me those. Fucked me up pretty badly, actually.
[He'd been shaken after that, not just physically but emotionally. Nekane had managed to blind him just with a thought, and that sort of power was terrifying to think about.]
Like I said, I don't blame you. I... needed to hurt, after everything. She delivered.
[He's looking at Dodger in horror and that only gets worse as he takes in those scars. He wants to think there's some mistake, but he can very easily imagine the shadows and the damage they can do. He can't forget the way they tore that room apart. Dodger confirms it.
His eyes close, face twisting. Guilt washes over and then some, Dodger saying he doesn't blame...
His face drops to his hands and he groans.]
No, no, stop.
[Dammit. He'd known Nekane was angry but he'd thought...]
You didn't need to be hurt, okay, that doesn't fix anything. That doesn't make me feel better! It doesn't even stop anything from happening! I don't want people hurt for me! I don't want people hurting each other! I don't want it on my conscience and I don't want it in general!
[His hands have gone out, gesturing with his words. He doesn't know what he's going to do. On top of all that, he can't help feeling hurt that he was lied to. Tricked again.]
And they're-- they're not a girl.
[The least important thing here but hell, since they're going down a list, might as well say it.]
[He grunts quietly, and doesn't speak after he's told not to. He does finally look at Hector, regarding him with some level of sympathy. These sort of things are normal for him, but he knows they aren't for Hector. He knows all of this hurts.
He idly makes a note that Nekane is apparently not a girl, but. Will he remember that? Probably not.]
Sorry.
[He reaches out hesitantly, and pats Hector's shoulder. His touch is light, ready to take it back if the man isn't having it.]
You sound like you need a drink, man. [He hesitates.] But I'm not gonna join you, if you do. All things considered, you probably shouldn't be drunk around me on a good day.
[He's self aware enough, at least, to know he's a scavenger. He doesn't need a reason to hurt someone who's weakened, even if he likes to think he wouldn't hurt Hector.]
[He's watchful as Dodger reaches out. He doesn't want to flinch and he manages not to, though it makes his body stiff. He stiffens much more at the offer to drink, face twisting for just a moment before he can smooth that out.
As much as he can that is. You probably shouldn't be drunk around me on a good day, is not the greatest thing to hear.
It doesn't matter though. He shakes his head.]
I'm not drinking anymore. Giving it up.
[He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his flask for Dodger to see. He gives it a shake.]
It's just water.
[He tucks the thing back away.]
Was planning on giving it up eventually, work off the list. But since my old friend ruined tequila for me, I figured I'd start now. That's what the smokes are for; keeping busy.
[He raises a brow; not at the sobriety, that's fine, but it seems stupid to let him know exactly what Hector's drinking out of. And it takes him a moment to remind himself that no, that isn't a stupid thing to do if they're going to trust each other.
He just focuses on tossing his cigarette aside and lighting a new one.]
Seems like a bad place to start... place like this, it helps to be drunk.
[He pauses, and a bitter smile crosses his face.]
You know I haven't been sober in... five years or so? Not even for a moment. I wake up and drink like it's water. Feels like everything would be... real, if I was sober. Too real.
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No, I uh.. it's my dog. From back home. I don't know how the fuck they got him, but the bastards at the bar gave him back to me. He just... makes that noise.
[He guesses he should prove that, though, he doesn't exactly have the right to expect trust from Hector. So he switches to video, to show a young, morbidly skinny dog laying on his floor and panting heavily. There's a puddle of drool under his mouth, soaking into his front paws, and he's still making that plaintive whining noise, looking at Dodger with eyes wide enough to show the whites.]
Crusher, shut up.
[Crusher licks his lips and stops whining, but he continues to pant so aggressively that it really makes no difference in the noise level.]
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[He remembers Dodger's metaphor.Loyal to a fault. You train 'em right, and they'll crawl forward to follow you even if their legs are broken in pieces. They'll sit and watch you gorge yourself while they starve to death. His stomach turns.
He pities the thing. Even if Dodger hasn't hurt it, even if he hasn't starved it which it rather looks like he has, there's nothing good down here. But he can't save it.]
Okay.
[It's not but.]
I don't want you making things up to me. Whatever you're offering, I don't want it. You-
[He laughs bitterly. He still hasn't switched to video.]
You don't even understand what part of that... You came in my room. You acted like a friend. I told you things. And you...
Did you kill someone for that meat? Or was it just conveniently there?
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[It hadn't even been a minute since Dodger connected those dots for him, when he had lost his temper enough to kill Hector. But Hector is talking to him, so surely that means something.
And he's switching back to audio, because honestly, Crusher is a depressing thing to watch.]
I wasn't acting. I am your friend, you really matter to me, I... I've told you things I haven't told anyone else. I didn't mean to-...
[He guesses Hector doesn't want to hear it. He's silent for a moment, before just moving on to those questions.]
I didn't kill someone. I found them dead, and I... scavenged. It isn't the first time. I can't stand being hungry, Hector, I really can't. I was hungry all the time as a kid, I can't go back to living like that, not even for a moment. And seeing you holed up there with your ribs poking out, it...
[He hates a shaky breath.]
I was trying to help. I know I just made it worse, but I... I don't know. I'm just a monster.
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[He drops that bluntly. More casual than he feels by far.]
And apparently poisoned by my best friend.
[Which makes the insistence of friendship that much worse.
He scrubs at his face where he sits.]
Fuck, Dodger.
[His voice cracks. He doesn't speak for a long moment. There might be the faint sound of hitched breath but only if Dodger's listening that close.]
You know I know that? I know you're messed up. I know, even for a sinner in Hell, which all of us are, that you're...something. I knew that when we met. I knew that when you kissed me.
But this isn't going to go away with an apology.
[He's never going to trust food right again. He's never going to fully trust someone who means well.]
I want you to understand something. I'm getting out of here. Out of Hell. I'm going to work off my list and get out. Whatever I have to do, carve myself up, chop off my limbs. Even make you kill me. But I am not putting another sin on that list. Not if I can help it. If you can't stand to look at me, Dodger, then don't look. Because I don't care. I would rather die- I'd rather starve, than take one more step from my girl.
Are we clear?
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Somewhere in the back of his mind... it is nice. It is nice that Hector stuck around, put up with him, knowing even the sliver that Dodger's given him of the sort of person he is. Hector's always given him a fair listen, and that's more than he deserves on most days.]
'Your girl'... That a girlfriend, or... a daughter?
[He pauses. Is that why Hector had bitten him, egged him on? To return to his family?
In the state he'd been in, it hadn't mattered why Hector seemed to want to die. Afterward, Dodger had figured it was just blind fear, fighting back without knowing why. But if it was to keep himself on the path to redemption... well, he respects that. He might just have to change his mind about seeing Hector as a coward.]
...I like being here. This place is like paradise, better than anything I've got going back home. But... far be it from me to keep a good man from his family. So yeah, we're clear.
But hey. Fighting someone like me takes guts. If anyone's gonna make it outta here, I'd put my money on you.
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If Dodger could see him his face would be hardened steel.]
My daughter.
[He's silent a moment longer.]
I told you before. Whatever I've got to do, I'll do it. There's nothing I can't handle for someone who matters.
[His next words come out muffled, like a tired sigh into his hand.]
But I swear to god if you actually start putting a betting pool on me...
[He'd be unable to do a thing about it but he'd probably get a lot of unwanted attention.]
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I think I had you pegged wrong, Hector. You're not a good man, you're a righteous one. You're better than I am.
[Even when it came between the love of his life and his own self-interest, Janet had taken the fall every time. He's never pretended to be someone trustworthy, not after letting her down and nearly killing her... hell, she might have actually died for all he knows.]
I never met my dad, y'know. He left before I was born. Sometimes I wonder if my mom would've made it, if he stuck around... or if it would've been worse. But I always figured if I ran into him, I'd rip him to shreds.
[A pause.]
...My point is, it ain't right to deny someone their father. Especially not a father like you. Can't promise I won't hurt you, but if you need help getting back to her, you can come to me. I'll do whatever you need me to, free of charge.
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Righteous is not the word I would use.
[He's still a sinner. Even if he certainly hopes he's a better man. He didn't kill Dodger.
To the rest, he stays silent. He's not unmoved, it still leaves him tired.]
A lot of men are like that. You get a lot of orphans that way. She still deserves a better father than me. But I'm what she's got.
I understand you want to make things better in your way, Dodger, but you are not going to be able to help me work off my list. The only other thing I could think to ask you is not to hurt those I care about here... but I'm really not counting on it. Not unless you become a very different person very fast.
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I know. I know the best thing to do would just be to stay out of your way. But... Fuck, Hector. I'm really trying to... I don't know. I'm trying to do better.
[He pauses. For a few moments, all that can be heard on his end is Crusher quietly whining.]
Can I come see you for a bit? We can stay in public, I won't touch you, I won't give you anything, I just... [Another quiet sigh.] ...It was good, before... I... fucked up. Playing music, and just- talking. I don't want to lose that.
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He gets up.]
I'm going outside for a smoke. Front of the hotel, out of the way. I'm no teleporter but I shouldn't take long.
You can see me. But I don't know if it's going to be good. We've got a long way to go and I've got more on the mind than just you. I'll meet you in a few minutes.
[With that, he gets going. He grabs another sweater, his pack of cigarettes, his flask. He leaves the guitar and heads on down.
In no time at all he's outside, back in a chill that shouldn't be possible with the distant hellfire. He expects Dodger will be there already. He braces for the reaction when Dodger sees he's looking worse rather than better.]
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When Hector gets there Dodger is, indeed, already smoking outside. He's sitting on top of a bench - up on the back of it, with his feet in the seat. He hasn't worn his hoodie much since coming here but he's wearing it now, just because he needs the comfort.]
Hey.
[He looks Hector over once, before just... casting his eyes to the ground. He really doesn't like to see him like this, but it's not his place to fuss. Not when it's basically his own fault.]
Are you alright? I mean... [He gestures vaguely.] Did you- heal up okay?
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He makes a face at the question. Hard not to when it's his murderer asking him but he gets it under control and makes his way to that bench. He settles on the seat properly for now, mostly because he's still got to light the cigarette he slips in his teeth and the lighter is a pain on a good day. Like last time, Dodger's caught him with stiff shaking fingers. He speaks around the thing.]
I'm back in one piece. Hurt waking up. And moving. But what else is new? Still poisoned. Probably good you didn't decide to use me too for your cooking experiments. Then I'd have taken you out.
[It's a little too dry to be a joke. He may or may not have gotten that thing lit yet.]
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I didn't hurt you on purpose.
[He pauses.]
I know that doesn't... mean anything. I just- I've got a bad temper. I know I do. Shit sets me off and I just... don't back down. Even when I should. I've hurt people... worse than you. I held back as much as I could.
[None of this is helping his case. But he can't help the honesty, Hector is the only person he's spoken to about a lot of things. And he could really use an outlet for the thoughts in his head.]
I'm really sorry.
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I believe you.
I don't know about on purpose because you didn't exactly do it on accident, but I know you didn't plan for it.
[He'd planned to... feed him. To keep him alive. It's almost kind in a twisted way.]
But that's the problem. I don't know how to trust you. You can't even trust yourself. By all means, I never should have in the first place. But I let you in. And between you and my old friend- [His voice wavers.] -I'm finding it really hard to trust anybody.
I can't... give myself over if I can't trust. Or I'm just tearing at myself on purpose. I'm kind of stuck, Dodger.
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He's heard that before. These are old excuses, and Janet never stood for them. He's glad that at least this isn't a fight, that they're just talking, but he doesn't really want to talk. He wants to reach out and touch Hector's back, or kiss him again, or... more. Because his body is the only thing that seems to make up for his personality, and the only positive thing he knows how to give is intimacy.]
You don't have to trust me, you know. I've got plenty of friends, back home and here, that I wouldn't turn my back on for a second.
[He takes a deep breath, and it comes out in a hollow laugh.]
Fuck, though... I never had to apologize to someone I killed before. Ivar - my boyfriend - I killed him a couple months back and we never talked about it. Like it never happened. I guess he figured we were even, since he killed me too.
[It was never awkward to bring it up until just now. He can't help feeling like every word out of his mouth is just making it worse, but he doesn't know how to change his strategy either. It's all uncharted territory.]
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The second confession makes him wince. Before he might have asked; Doesn't that feel terrible? He understands better now.]
I don't know Ivar, or anything about him. So I'm just going to say this based on you and general people; he's messed up. You're both messed up. And that's comfortable for you.
You're apologizing but you have nothing to back it up. Take it from me, I apologize way too much, and eventually it's just words. Not to be on the nose but if you want to say sorry it's got to mean something. Repentance. Which is why I'm not sorry about biting your hand.
[He spares it the briefest glance. He feels guilty. Not that much.]
If this place were Earth you wouldn't get a second chance for killing me. That would be it. So you have to be uncomfortable here. You're going to try harder, if not for the first time in your life.
You're going to promise me, if you ever get that mad again, you're going to leave. Do your magic poofing and don't even finish the conversation. You're never going to get involved in any food or drink with me. Ever. You're going to tell me the truth where it matters. You're going to try.
If that sounds impossible or like it's not worth the time, there's your answer. But if you can tough it out enough then I can try to trust you.
[He takes a drag from his cigarette.]
Then we can both feel like crap together.
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He glances down at his hand. There's still a dark line across the older scars, marking where he was bitten.]
I don't blame you for biting me. You shouldn't be sorry.
[He listens to the rest though, quietly puffing his cigarette and finally stealing a glance at the other man. Only a glance, which he regrets, because he can't stand the sight of him. Every time he looks at him, his heart drops. And even after Hector's done speaking, he's stuck contemplating it silently.]
I don't make promises I can't keep, Hector. It's the only line I draw - I follow through whatever I say, because I fucking hate people who don't.
[He's stalling, speaking slowly while he tries to sort out his thoughts.]
But... I promise I'll leave if you tell me to. I promise I won't touch your food or drinks. And I promise I won't lie to you... but sometimes you're better off without the truth. Knowing too much can change you into someone you don't want to be. So if I tell you not to worry about something, I mean it. Alright?
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He's surprised enough when Dodger goes on that he actually looks up.
He thinks how Nekane and Dodger are utterly unalike, with Nekane's tale of an apple out of reach that they were punished for... and Dodger insisting that to be without is better.
He thinks about how he already knows more than he wants. How Dodger treats his dog, people he knows, himself. How Dodger views the world. The cannibalism. If there was ever a time to protect him from knowing things he'd think it's rather passed.]
As long as you can follow the first, it should be fine.
[He shifts then, pushing himself up on the seat. He sits on the back of it, like Dodger does, a space still between then. But it's a smaller space. He holds out a hand to shake.]
This isn't me saying I forgive you, just that I'm giving you a chance to earn it. If that's really what you want from me.
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But Hector has always given him a fair listen, and he would rather die and stay dead than give that up.
He stares at Hector's bony hand for a moment, before taking it. Not to shake, but to hold, squeeze gently, and let go. He's fully capable of crushing that hand without a thought. He wants to let the man know that he won't.]
Even if you don't forgive me... you're one of my best friends here. I'll do whatever I have to, to keep you safe... but I'll try and hold back if you tell me not to.
[He pauses for a moment.]
And I don't blame you for sending your friend after me. I earned that.
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It's not a proper shake and it makes some of the hardness of his expression slip down, leaving in its place something sorrowed, but it works for what they're trying to do. He draws his hand back.
He looks sadly on the man. It's kind of terrible that he's one of Dodger's best friends because, in all honesty, he hasn't been all that friendly to Dodger. Not by his own standards.]
Dodger, I--
[He cuts off, Dodger going on to add one more thing.]
What. [It comes out flat.] Sending a friend-- I didn't send anyone after you! I only told one person! And I told them not to do anything!
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Well, I guess I'm not the only one who's got some explaining to do, then.
[He lifts up his shirt, just enough to show his stomach. There's other scars there, but chief among them is the circular scars left from holes were the shadow hands had pierced through him. And once Hector's gotten a good look, his shirt drops back down.]
The girl in the suit, with the fucked-up wings. Soon as she heard my name, she started talking about you... then she gave me those. Fucked me up pretty badly, actually.
[He'd been shaken after that, not just physically but emotionally. Nekane had managed to blind him just with a thought, and that sort of power was terrifying to think about.]
Like I said, I don't blame you. I... needed to hurt, after everything. She delivered.
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His eyes close, face twisting. Guilt washes over and then some, Dodger saying he doesn't blame...
His face drops to his hands and he groans.]
No, no, stop.
[Dammit. He'd known Nekane was angry but he'd thought...]
You didn't need to be hurt, okay, that doesn't fix anything. That doesn't make me feel better! It doesn't even stop anything from happening! I don't want people hurt for me! I don't want people hurting each other! I don't want it on my conscience and I don't want it in general!
[His hands have gone out, gesturing with his words. He doesn't know what he's going to do. On top of all that, he can't help feeling hurt that he was lied to. Tricked again.]
And they're-- they're not a girl.
[The least important thing here but hell, since they're going down a list, might as well say it.]
Ugh, this is such a mess...
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He idly makes a note that Nekane is apparently not a girl, but. Will he remember that? Probably not.]
Sorry.
[He reaches out hesitantly, and pats Hector's shoulder. His touch is light, ready to take it back if the man isn't having it.]
You sound like you need a drink, man. [He hesitates.] But I'm not gonna join you, if you do. All things considered, you probably shouldn't be drunk around me on a good day.
[He's self aware enough, at least, to know he's a scavenger. He doesn't need a reason to hurt someone who's weakened, even if he likes to think he wouldn't hurt Hector.]
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As much as he can that is. You probably shouldn't be drunk around me on a good day, is not the greatest thing to hear.
It doesn't matter though. He shakes his head.]
I'm not drinking anymore. Giving it up.
[He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his flask for Dodger to see. He gives it a shake.]
It's just water.
[He tucks the thing back away.]
Was planning on giving it up eventually, work off the list. But since my old friend ruined tequila for me, I figured I'd start now. That's what the smokes are for; keeping busy.
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He just focuses on tossing his cigarette aside and lighting a new one.]
Seems like a bad place to start... place like this, it helps to be drunk.
[He pauses, and a bitter smile crosses his face.]
You know I haven't been sober in... five years or so? Not even for a moment. I wake up and drink like it's water. Feels like everything would be... real, if I was sober. Too real.
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