[He has to grin at the way that Hector talks, so animated and cheerful and... real. It feels like hanging out with the kids he ran with when he was a teenager, just sitting around and talking about nothing.]
I'm not gonna judge you, hotels are bullshit.
[He thinks for a while, trying to decide on something to share.]
A lot of the good stuff.. it's gone now. It's easier to remember losing it than having it, y'know? [A pause.] The winters in Boston are way worse - we got snow up to your waist, but in the city they'd have it all shoveled out by six in the morning. My mom was a mutant, like me - couldn't start fires or anything, but she was always warm, no matter what. She'd take me around and we'd share heat with whoever we could, 'cause we were always stuck sleeping outside.
[It's not really a happy memory, but he still seems to soften when he thinks about it.]
My mom was an angel. I never knew my dad, he was gone before I was born. But she kept a picture of him in a little box, with all the things she owned. She raised me all by herself, out on the streets. She used to trick me into thinking she'd eaten already, so I wouldn't try and split my food with her. And she'd... she could remember fairy tales off the top of her head, she'd make them up if she couldn't think of any. She was great at telling stories. And if I found batteries we'd listen to music, but her CD player always ran out of juice too fast.
[He takes a long drag from his cigarette, a bit embarrassed that his first attempt was definitely not happy. But it's something he loves. Something he's never told anyone else about, but it feels nice to share it now.]
[He'd wondered about her, about Dodger's parents. He knows his father left, but Dodger said nothing of his father. He hadn't wanted to ask, in case it was another bad memory. But it's not what he gets. It's not happy either, but it's... good. In its way.
Dodger might be embarrassed but...]
She sounds wonderful, Dodger. She sounds like she really loved you.
[He means that.]
You know, back when I was younger, I would've given anything for that. God knows I had nothing to give, but, all the same. I used to imagine, at certain times of the year, that whatever family I had was like that. Kind. Passing down songs and stories before I could even understand them.
[He'd grown out of the thought. He knows it was probably something as simple as childbirth or some bad luck. They probably never knew him any more than he knew them. But at the time, the thought was nice. He carried it until he could make it real for a little girl.]
I can't imagine losing it. But I'm glad you had it. Thank you, for sharing that with me.
[His laugh is a bit awkward, and he shrugs as if to play off how happy it makes him to share and have it accepted and appreciated.]
I used to miss her all the time. Growing up with Benny and Yana, y'know, it was way different. They... they didn't care about me. Didn't care about my brother, either - he wasn't really my brother, he was.. their kid. But they'd rather have me than him, they said so.
[He stops himself, because none of that is happy, or bittersweet, or good. It all just hurts. Except for Tony.]
My brother and I - his name's Anthony - we used to play music all the time. We both played guitar, but I picked up the bass so I could play with him. He was trash at everything else. Sometimes we used to talk about... ditching the gang, going clean and starting a band with his friends.
[And then Benny had smashed his guitar.
It also... probably says a lot, that Dodger says his friends, not our friends. Because even if Dodger had been the leader of their group, they were Tony's friends, not his.]
[They didn't care about me. He's glad, in a way, that Dodger can at least see that. The admiration didn't sit well with him.
It's a story laced with pain but he gives an encouraging look when Dodger falters. He's doing good, as far as breaking a habit.]
... It was like with Ernesto too. Not you. But I had music and I taught him all I knew. But he was the one who... who showed me around, who made me feel like I was somebody. All his friends were older than me but Ernesto could make things sound so good, he could even get them looking at a scrappy ugly thing like me. And of course, we had our dream. To play for the world.
[He takes a breath.]
It didn't work out as you can see, but, at the time, it meant a lot.
[He doesn't suggest Dodger had better luck. He knows it's a lie.]
I think you would've been different if you had escaped sooner. Maybe you would've been happier.
[He probably would have been different, if he'd left sooner. If Tony had come with him, maybe that dream of a band could've been a reality. Now that's a truly bittersweet thought.]
Well... I started acting up. Couldn't handle the sort of person Benny was trying to turn me into. I started sneaking around with this girl I met, hiding out and playing guitar instead of running recon, doing all sorts of stupid shit. I was a kid, I thought I knew better than him.
[There's a laugh on his lips, but there's no humor in it.]
He found out about my girl. He told me if I wanted to stick with him, I had to kill her. Otherwise I was out, on my own, back on the street. We got in a fight. He ah... he broke a bottle, swiped my face with it.
[He gestures to his scars; some of the marks have healed away, but the three that are left had almost scratched the bones.]
...Don't remember much of what happened after that. I took a nap, left before the sun went up, found Janet and took off to New York with her. And... I left Anthony to find his dad's body.
[The smile leaves his face, he takes a drag from his cigarette and lets it out with a sigh.]
[It's not a boast or an excuse. It's just a sad end to a story. His brow furrows.]
That man is a monster. That's not a man you want to be. [Not like Dodger tried to suggest.] You did know better. You went from a kid who kept people warm on the street, who loved music and your mother, to someone's living punching bag and being told to kill those you care about just to please this man.
[He shakes his head and looks away from Dodger, taking a drag from his own half-forgotten cigarette.]
I worry about what it did to you. And maybe to your brother too. But I can't say I feel much sorry for that man.
[Just when he said he didn't know if he could turn his back on bloodied hands. But it's exactly the point too.]
I think in at least some part of that, sparing your girl's life and leaving, I think that was the right thing. You can... you can do better. I still want to believe that.
[Even with truth serum in his veins and pain in his heart.]
When you've healed better, on a day like today where my own hands are working, we should turn on the video things on our phones. We can play. You with your guitar and me with mine. The batteries never run out on these. We can play and listen all night if we like. No one to stop us. Would you like that?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I'm not gonna judge you, hotels are bullshit.
[He thinks for a while, trying to decide on something to share.]
A lot of the good stuff.. it's gone now. It's easier to remember losing it than having it, y'know? [A pause.] The winters in Boston are way worse - we got snow up to your waist, but in the city they'd have it all shoveled out by six in the morning. My mom was a mutant, like me - couldn't start fires or anything, but she was always warm, no matter what. She'd take me around and we'd share heat with whoever we could, 'cause we were always stuck sleeping outside.
[It's not really a happy memory, but he still seems to soften when he thinks about it.]
My mom was an angel. I never knew my dad, he was gone before I was born. But she kept a picture of him in a little box, with all the things she owned. She raised me all by herself, out on the streets. She used to trick me into thinking she'd eaten already, so I wouldn't try and split my food with her. And she'd... she could remember fairy tales off the top of her head, she'd make them up if she couldn't think of any. She was great at telling stories. And if I found batteries we'd listen to music, but her CD player always ran out of juice too fast.
[He takes a long drag from his cigarette, a bit embarrassed that his first attempt was definitely not happy. But it's something he loves. Something he's never told anyone else about, but it feels nice to share it now.]
no subject
Dodger might be embarrassed but...]
She sounds wonderful, Dodger. She sounds like she really loved you.
[He means that.]
You know, back when I was younger, I would've given anything for that. God knows I had nothing to give, but, all the same. I used to imagine, at certain times of the year, that whatever family I had was like that. Kind. Passing down songs and stories before I could even understand them.
[He'd grown out of the thought. He knows it was probably something as simple as childbirth or some bad luck. They probably never knew him any more than he knew them. But at the time, the thought was nice. He carried it until he could make it real for a little girl.]
I can't imagine losing it. But I'm glad you had it. Thank you, for sharing that with me.
no subject
I used to miss her all the time. Growing up with Benny and Yana, y'know, it was way different. They... they didn't care about me. Didn't care about my brother, either - he wasn't really my brother, he was.. their kid. But they'd rather have me than him, they said so.
[He stops himself, because none of that is happy, or bittersweet, or good. It all just hurts. Except for Tony.]
My brother and I - his name's Anthony - we used to play music all the time. We both played guitar, but I picked up the bass so I could play with him. He was trash at everything else. Sometimes we used to talk about... ditching the gang, going clean and starting a band with his friends.
[And then Benny had smashed his guitar.
It also... probably says a lot, that Dodger says his friends, not our friends. Because even if Dodger had been the leader of their group, they were Tony's friends, not his.]
no subject
It's a story laced with pain but he gives an encouraging look when Dodger falters. He's doing good, as far as breaking a habit.]
... It was like with Ernesto too. Not you. But I had music and I taught him all I knew. But he was the one who... who showed me around, who made me feel like I was somebody. All his friends were older than me but Ernesto could make things sound so good, he could even get them looking at a scrappy ugly thing like me. And of course, we had our dream. To play for the world.
[He takes a breath.]
It didn't work out as you can see, but, at the time, it meant a lot.
[He doesn't suggest Dodger had better luck. He knows it's a lie.]
I think you would've been different if you had escaped sooner. Maybe you would've been happier.
What happened to that plan?
no subject
Well... I started acting up. Couldn't handle the sort of person Benny was trying to turn me into. I started sneaking around with this girl I met, hiding out and playing guitar instead of running recon, doing all sorts of stupid shit. I was a kid, I thought I knew better than him.
[There's a laugh on his lips, but there's no humor in it.]
He found out about my girl. He told me if I wanted to stick with him, I had to kill her. Otherwise I was out, on my own, back on the street. We got in a fight. He ah... he broke a bottle, swiped my face with it.
[He gestures to his scars; some of the marks have healed away, but the three that are left had almost scratched the bones.]
...Don't remember much of what happened after that. I took a nap, left before the sun went up, found Janet and took off to New York with her. And... I left Anthony to find his dad's body.
[The smile leaves his face, he takes a drag from his cigarette and lets it out with a sigh.]
Sorry. I'm just bringing the mood down.
no subject
[He shakes his head.]
This is different. I asked.
[It's not a boast or an excuse. It's just a sad end to a story. His brow furrows.]
That man is a monster. That's not a man you want to be. [Not like Dodger tried to suggest.] You did know better. You went from a kid who kept people warm on the street, who loved music and your mother, to someone's living punching bag and being told to kill those you care about just to please this man.
[He shakes his head and looks away from Dodger, taking a drag from his own half-forgotten cigarette.]
I worry about what it did to you. And maybe to your brother too. But I can't say I feel much sorry for that man.
[Just when he said he didn't know if he could turn his back on bloodied hands. But it's exactly the point too.]
I think in at least some part of that, sparing your girl's life and leaving, I think that was the right thing. You can... you can do better. I still want to believe that.
[Even with truth serum in his veins and pain in his heart.]
When you've healed better, on a day like today where my own hands are working, we should turn on the video things on our phones. We can play. You with your guitar and me with mine. The batteries never run out on these. We can play and listen all night if we like. No one to stop us. Would you like that?