kore_logs | That is mahogany!

Entry tags:

That is mahogany!

Who: OPEN
What: Some crates fell from the sky
Where: The Park, near the gazebo
When: Evening, day 42
Warnings: Injury, snakes, spiders, gore, violence, strong language, will update as needed
Other: Please feel free to have characters jump around. If your character moves threads and it's relatively continuous, please link the earlier thread to the later one and try to follow a tag order/try not to cram too many people into one thread. Prose or action spam is fine. Ping a mod if you need anything!

The ropes tightly binding the metal crates together managed to keep the pyramid formation intact even as it impacted the ground. Each crate was about five feet by five feet and the entire pyramid stood at least two stories high. Some of them are empty, some aren't meant to be opened, but there are a few that contain something special.

If you can cut away the ropes and pry open the lids, you might find a real treasure! Or you might regret giving in to your curiosity.

Don't forget to share, boys and girls.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Jesse raises his eyebrows at Pinkman, half in amusement, half in disbelief. Ninja stars. Well. After the fucking mechanical bears, he guesses they can expect just about anything, so Jesse shrugs. ] Yeah. M'sure. I got protection if anything super bad happens, yeah? [ Provided Anna is watching. ] And if you ain't, you can chill behind me. I'll take the damage, if there is any.

[ Not like he cares. He offers a grin, and nudges Pinkman's hand off the crate the rest of the way. ] Worst thing that can happen is I die and come back. [ Wow, that's not reassuring at all. Too late for replies, though TIME TO OPEN THE BOX. ]

Protection like what, like an extra t-shirt to protect your scrawny ass if somethin' blows up in there? [ Jesse sneers the line out, slapping his hand off the box with a clench of his teeth and his hands in the air, all submissive and placating. Fine. ]

[ He punches Finch's arm instead, mildly offended by the implication that he'd use the guy as some kind of meat shield. Come back? Whatever. If they're blowing up, they're blowing up together. ] Like hell. I ain't some little bitch. [ As he leans over Finch's shoulder to put his face first to the grindstone and maybe catch a glimpse of what's inside. ]

[ Like an angel! But that is beside the point. Jesse snorts, nudging Pinkman in return, and then proceeds to push the box open. But it's fine! Because the crate does not explode, and it does not have snakes or spiders in it, and they don't explode! There's just a lot of cans, and... what is that. Jesse squints, reluctant to put his hand in the crate just in case something bites him. ]

Ay, if you ain't a bitch, reach in there and grab whatever that is. In the like, bag, down there. [ Because this Jesse's not doing it. ]

[ Jesse hisses as soon as Finch pushes the box open, unlike his not a little bitch comment that he so eloquently happened to express before, but, hey, man, it doesn't explode, they don't explode, there are no explosions - and certainly no ninja stars - and that's probably a better thing at the end of the day. ]

[ What's inside is incredibly unexpected, and of all the first crates that they could have found their way into, it's the one meant for him. The fuck were they doing with his brain? ]

[ Jesse jostles Finch back for the reaching in line, but does it anyway, kind of hesitant, fingers slowly itching their way into the box. He paws apart the cans surrounding the bag like a halo - soup and some mixed vegetables, beans. He hefts up the bag with familiar fingers and tosses it between his hands, almost reverently. ]

[ Surprisingly, impossibly, and a little suspiciously, Jesse doesn't say a single damn word, just flashes the bag to Finch with his eyebrows raised. Do you know what this is? ]

[ Jesse makes a protesty sound when Pinkman jostles him, but it's whatever, it's not like he cares. Not until Pinkman pulls out the bag, at least, and Jesse's eyes go wide. Holy shit. Yeah. He knows what that is, he just hasn't seen it in a long time. ]

What the fuck is that doing in there? [ Jesse hisses, grabbing Pinkman's hand to yank it down. Don't just let it out in the open like that, jesus! ]

It's, [ Jesse starts to seethe right back, letting his hand get yanked out of sight, and he checks the immediate vicinity to see who's watching, who's paying attention. He let his worse half get the better of him, and it's only then that he cares enough to hide the damn stuff, starts to shove it into his pocket. ]

Mine, [ he finishes after that beat of pause, not really sure why it's Finch that he chooses to entrust with that knowledge, and one more glance around to make sure nobody's watching - don't meet his eyes. ] It's mine, yo.

[ Jesse has no idea how to react to this. Because it's kind of ridiculous -- he's torn between wanting to say something, to say no, come on, give it here, get rid of it, and... and give me some. It brings up a lot of old urges very suddenly that he isn't sure he's prepared for.

He's quiet for a beat, for two. Then: ] It's yours. You're a meth head? [ He's not judging. ]

[ But he takes it mildly offended regardless, peels back his lips in a bit of a sneer again. ] Do I look like all my teeth are fallin' out? Meth head, he says. [ No, it's mine, he wants to specify, it's my meth, I made this with my own two goddamn hands, but instead his fingers scrub over his head, worriedly, his voice lowering down a notch as he leans in a bit towards Finch. ]

Besides, I saw the way you were eyeballin' it, man, don't get all self righteous.

Okay, okay, casual fuckin' meth head. Jesus. [ He keeps his voice low, but - when Pinkman says what he does, he goes stiff, scowling. ] Yeah, well, k-- keep... [ He can't bring himself to say it, which makes him scowl even more deeply. ] What, did it fucking follow you here or something?

[ Whatever Jesse has against the point, he doesn't argue it anymore - actually, goes a bit softer at the edges when Finch speaks up again. ] You off the wagon?

[ Obviously, not like there's big supplies going on here. ]

I don't know, man! [ A bit louder, before he lowers his voice to a hiss again, paws at his pocket a bit suspiciously. ] I don't know, thought this crap was s'posed to be food and all that junk. The hell else is in here?

Yeah. [ He mutters, but whatever, that's not important. He swallows a little hard and shifts. ] I dunno. I been seeing people get other stuff outta here, maybe it's to fuck with us, yeah? Like everything else.

[ He rubs at his face in agitation. ] I mean, look, both of us are -- we've. [ GESTURES done drugs. ] And we find it? What are the fucking odds?

What are the odds? Not very spectacularly fuckin' good, is what they are. You know, I ain't even told Laura or Lou?

[ He pats his pocket as inconspicuously as he can. ]

Look, fuck with us or not, this was my weapon'a choice, yo. 'Less it was yours too, what if you got somethin' hidin' out there in one'a those crates?

I don't make it a habit of going 'round telling people, neither. Not that they don't already assume. I could kinda tell on your part, though. Wasn't gonna say nothing, not unless it got worse. [ Jesse scowls, and shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He sniffs, once, wrinkling his nose. ] But no, it weren't mine. [ A beat. ] So what, you're sayin' there's gonna be some fuckin' heroin in one of these? Awesome. That's what I fucking need.

[ He actually sounds kind of worried. Deep breath, Finch. ] Shit, I gotta find some fuckin' cigarettes. Who's Lou? And Laura?

[ He doesn't have to ask why, he remembers Finch's gaze when he'd come over last, the shaking hands. He raises one of them now, slowly and methodically rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, his head slightly bowed. Great. Fuckin' perfect. ]

[ But the heroin drags his attention again, looks back up at Finch with wary eyes but not saying anything about it. ] Nah, compadre, I'm saying we better fuckin' find it before anyone else does, is what I'm sayin'.

[ Right. Cigarettes. That's what they're in for with this. Jesse miraculously pops over to the next box over, starting to pull at the ropes with his hands. ] They're, uh. You know, my housemates. Laura's real short and feisty lookin'. Lou's the guy who showed up here, ain't long ago.

[ Jesse hates that look. He hates it because it's the same look Galen gives him whenever he talks about it. Almost angrily, Jesse goes to another box to start cutting at the ropes, and the movement is violent. Thinking about this never does him any good. He just needs something to relax himself with, and not -- that. Not anything. If only he had his paints. ]

... Never met either of 'em. [ Jesse mutters, gnawing on his bottom lip. Stupid fucking... ropes. ] And they don't know? Y'don't think they're gonna find out? [ Because he knows Galen and Kenzi would be on him immediately, if it were him. ]

[ Jesse mistakes Finch's anger for something else entirely, twists a hand into the rope and finally wedges it off one side of his own crate, peels it the rest of the way off. ] Don't worry- man, I mean, we'll find it. Promise.

[ His eyes shut for a moment and then two when Finch asks his questions, and Jesse shakes his head again, starts trying to pry the lid off the case. His voice is a little strained when he plants a foot against it. ] No, huh? She just was talkin' about new clothes not long ago. [ Clearly the more formidable of the bunch. ] They ain't findin' out, they ain't said a damn thing. What's to find out?

[ The lid of the crate that Jesse's struggling with proves to be something Jesse has to wedge his knife into to get it to open. But he gets distracted, glancing over at Pinkman, fidgeting. ]

Nothing. Nothing's t'find out, long as you're careful. [ He means he's not telling anybody, Pinkman. He stops with the crate and lowers his voice again. ] Look -- listen. I been clean for years. I can't do it again, 'cause I know I'll never get out. Alright? [ It's incredibly difficult for him to say, when all he wants to do is ask if he can just try some of it. ]

I dunno I should even look in these if m'gonna find some left for me. [ He knows he doesn't have the self control. ]

[ That's good, that bit of a confirmation that Jesse locked in on and understood. Because Jesse sure as shit wasn't a snitch, but he had to hope to God that Finch wasn't either. He got lucky. He gives Finch a bit of a nod of thanks. ]

[ It's the rest that rings a little too close to home, a little too familiar for a very specific purpose he could immediately pinpoint. Jesse watches Finch for a long time, fingers tapping idly against the crate beneath his palms. ]

Yo, then why don't I get em open for ya? Gimme that fancy knife and I can proof 'em for ya. Seem fair?

[ No, Jesse knows. He knows what it's like and he won't tell. But he'll keep an eye out. Just in case. Either way, Pinkman offers, and Jesse stops trying to carve at the box with his knife. Instead, he takes a deep breath, flicks the knife closed, and reaches over to hand it to Pinkman.

And maybe Pinkman gets a little smile out of Finch. It's weary, but it's a smile. ] Yeah. Seems fair.

Quit it, afore I gotta get all gay at you. [ Jesse sighs, sitting down on top of the crate he was just trying to open. He's teasing! ]

[ He gives Finch a smile right back - admittedly, something flatter, a little not looking forward to this but willing to do it. Besides, he's got the knife now. Once Pinkman's got the knife in his hands, he flips it open, pries the lid off quick as nothing. It's clear he knows his way around a tool or two. ]

[ But the latter does get a bit of a snort out of him. ] That invitation is still very closed. So get off my dick, my friend, or you can open your own damn boxes. Bitch. [ It's without malice, and he finishes yanking the lid off the crate. ] Nothin' but soup and beans; how 'bout yours? [ He gestures his head over to his own crate, as if to invite Finch to paw through it. ]

[ Jesse huffs out a laugh, kicking in Pinkman's direction. ] Yeah, yeah, I already got an open invite somewhere else, macho man. You can open my boxes with none of the benefits. [ And he winks, like a tool. He can't help it. But he does move to look through the other crate, wrinkling his nose. Nothing, really, just... ]

Aw, fuck yeah. [ Cigarettes? Yes! Took three boxes, but he found some. He waves them in Pinkman's direction. ] Ay, c'mere. Lemme give you half afore we get sniffers coming 'round to steal 'em.

[ And as he's splitting them, he thinks he can turn this into a distracting subject change. This he has to be careful with, though. ] Speakin' of, I heard you met Galen.

You want I should open your boxes? [ Jesse grabs at the front of his jeans briefly, squeezes once for emphasis. ] Yeah, I'll open your box. [ The 'bitch' isn't repeated, but it's definitely implied. ]

[ But he lights up at the prospect of cigarettes, clambers his way on over and sits on another nearby box. ] Hey, thanks man. What, uh- [ Jesse flickers his gaze up to Finch almost sheepishly, scratches a thumbnail at his eyebrow. ] What'd he say about me?

[ Oh, hey, a laugh. Jesse cackles, even as he's pulling the cigarettes from the pack to hand to Pinkman. He glances at Pinkman when he asks, though, and keeps his eye on him even as he's digging around in his hoodie for his lighter. ] Not a problem. I owe you a lot more. [ A beat. ] As for Galen, he ain't your biggest fan, but he don't hate you or nothing. Wouldn't tell me what you said t'him that rustled him up.

[ He lights the cigarette, and near-immediately, the smoke makes him relax. ] I ain't so sure I wanna ask.

[ He doesn't hate him, that's a good thing. There's a bit of visible relaxing in Jesse's shoulders as he starts to slowly pocket the cigarettes, a small knot that gets released, but he knows he's not quite out of the shit yet. He got Galen pretty riled pretty quickly, and it's not like he's one to back down from an argument - he lent a pretty good hand in continuing it. ]

Hey, man, come on - [ He gestures for the lighter regardless, his own tucked safe away at home with his pipe. ] We were just bein' dicks about it, a'ight? We were just shootin' the shit, and- [ Whatever. He scratches a bit self-consciously at the side of his head. ] If he ain't talkin' about it, he ain't talkin' about it.

[ Jesse offers his lighter over, rolling his eyes. ] Fuckin' jesus, it's like high school. Yeah, alright, whatever. I ain't gonna promise I wouldn't get mad if I knew, but. Don't pick on him, alright? Play nicely, motherfucker, we ain't gonna give you cooties. [ And he nudges Pinkman with his elbow. It's friendly, he doesn't care so much, as long as nobody's hurting anybody else. And he very much doubts Pinkman intends to hurt anybody on purpose. ]

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