what's the worst that I can say? things are better if I stay

[facilitated]

Who: OPEN
What: The funeral of Phil Coulson and Maria Smith
When: Day 47, afternoon
Where: The Cemetery
Warnings: Discussions of character/NPC deaths? Will update as needed.

Notes: The headers are there to just help in chronologically ordering things, other than that it's party style. After the funeral there's a thing resembling a wake at the town hall. Mingle, have fun, mourn the losses.




It's been a pretty hectic twenty four hours for the people involved with arranging the funeral. Time hasn't exactly been on their side, but somehow they've all managed to throw something together. Laura for one looks absolutely exhausted - she hasn't actually slept yet, but in some ways that's almost preferable. Too much on her mind for that to be pleasant. Besides, there's been priorities like arranging a funeral in a day, and it's not the worst send off in the world, all things considered.

There's a second announcement the day after, and tired as she sounds Laura gives everyone the details for the funeral. That afternoon, at the cemetery. She's done the best she could do in a day, and it's not much, but at least it's something. That doesn't make the whole situation any less upsetting though, and it certainly doesn't make it any easier to drag herself through the day. She's there though, waiting at the cemetery for people to arrive.

Comments

[retrograding]

Similar to a viking funeral, yes. We prefer to leave ashes behind, if it's possible. It isn't always.

I am sorry to hear that, though. Was it traditional, like this?

[magnets]

Sorta, yeah. My parents' idea. All black and white tie and shit. [ His face screws up, a little irritated. ] I dunno if she'd'a wanted it that way.

You ever dump someone's ashes in like the Grand Canyon or somethin'? I always thought about someone spreadin' mine around somewhere real cool.

[retrograding]

[ He hums a little. ] If we knew where the Grand Canyon was in relation to us, I'm sure someone would.

I've always wanted my ashes to be shot into space after I was gone. [ He smiles a little, glancing at Jesse in amusement. ] A man can dream, can't he? What about you?

[magnets]

[ Even Jesse's not really sure where the Grand Canyon is, if he's honest, so he can't blame Jet much there. ]

Next moon landing, man, just pitch a request. It's all you. [ As for him, well. That's assuming he wasn't going to end up laid out in a ditch somewhere, he supposes. Or a barrel. Jesse sucks in a breath and leans both hands on the shovel, his chin on his hands as he thinks. ] Guess I never really thought about it. [ Except he has. A lot. ]

My aunt's place, back home. She always hadda cool little garden out front, trees and shrubs and shit. Before she, uh. [ His parents had spruced it up, before he'd gotten the house, but without Jesse taking care of it, it had all gone to shit. He abandons his previous sentence, starts fresh. ] Ashes are all like nutritional for plants and stuff, right? If you're dead, might as well help out where ya can.

[retrograding]

[ He smiles at the idea of his ashes actually reaching space. And his smile stays when Jesse continues on, says where he'd like to end up. That seems consistent, Jet thinks. Even after death, Jesse wants to help out where he can, and Jet's adding that detail to his little mental chart. ]

I think the trees would enjoy that. [ He hums. ] You could become a tree, with that method, and then you'd help humans breathe, as well. I think that's noble, mijo.

But that won't be for a long time yet. [ Eyebrow raise. He's not so sure about that, considering what he knows about Jesse, but this is his take care of yourself warning, in so many words. ]

[magnets]

[ There it is again, that wise motherfucker tone that drags a smile out of Jesse - something more genuine this time, a grin of a thing where his head rests on his hands. He rolls it to the side to peer at Jet then, a little more proud of his answer now that Jet approves of it. ] Yeah? Ya think?

[ He's not sure where he's more liable to end up a corpse. Here or back home. It's almost nice to be away from the business for a little while, but the vacation's not exactly a vacation when it's in Crazytown with robot bears. ] With any luck. [ He admits, and then a bit more quietly: ] Never used ta think my time'd be up early.

[retrograding]

[ His eyebrows stay raised. That's... well, something he's sort of expecting. People like Jesse don't normally expect to live very long in the first place. It's pretty killjoy. But it doesn't make Jet feel any better. ] And then something changed that. [ He says absently, encouraging. He won't press. But it's an opening. ]

[magnets]

[ Yeah, something changed. Something definitely changed and Jesse could have laid it all out on the table here, everything, but that wasn't exactly in his nature. Jet probably already thinks lowly of him enough, never mind what kind of shit that would unleash. Meth manufacturer. I've had a gun pointed to my head more times than I'd like to count. ]

[ Jesse just kind of nods his agreement, foot kicking dirt into the grave for a moment before he speaks up again. ] You ever think about how your life'd be different if ya just- hadn't met that one person?

[retrograding]

[ Oh, Jesse. If you only knew the types of things Jet has done - maybe Jet will tell him, but for now, he's just listening. He feels like that might be what Jesse needs, more than anything. To be listened to, or at least to be made felt like he has worth. Jet firmly believes he does. ]

I do. Every person you meet changes your life, I feel like. But yes. [ He won't say much, but he is listening. He wants Jesse to know that he can talk, but he doesn't have to. ]

[magnets]

[ And it's a foolproof way to open up the floodgates - a tried and true method that Jet's employed before on Jesse, and Jesse doesn't even necessarily realize that he's doing it. Silence, it's a thing he can't really handle lately, and so he just fills the spaces with words, starts up stories that he doesn't know why he's telling. ]

[ He rolls his eyes forward and stares down at the grave. ]

I had this teacher back in high school, yeah? Real smarmy old dude, always wrote those shitty little notes on tests and shit. "Needs more effort," this and, "you're not trying hard enough," that. When it's like, yo, I really was trying. [ A lie, probably. He never gave enough of a shit in chemistry. He gave so little of a shit it propelled him in the opposite direction, like he was trying to fail. ] It ain't right that teachers can all backtalk to their students like that, you know? That kinda shit sticks with a kid, I guess.

[retrograding]

[ It's a tactic Jet's used on Party in the past. It tends to work. And it does this time, too, and Jet listens to each word, carefully thinking over what he's going to say in response. ]

It does. It can make a kid feel unworthy. [ He says gently. ] It can make anyone feel unworthy, and it doesn't always work, even if the teacher is trying to help. [ No sides, he's not taking sides. ]

[magnets]

He doesn't help anybody but himself.

[ Jesse says a little sharply, lends a hand in showing that there's something else there besides the whole high school chemistry teacher thing, but he doesn't divulge anything else - just stands up straighter, cricks his back and rolls his shoulder in another shrug. ] Whatever, man, it's his game.

[retrograding]

[ Maybe he raises an eyebrow. ] His game. [ Jet repeats absently, glancing up at the sky. ] Chess or checkers?

[magnets]

[ Jesse looks over at Jet contemplatively, his fingers wringing around the handle of the shovel for a few long seconds before he answers: ]

Chess.

[ And Mr. White thinks he's the king. ]

[retrograding]

A game of chess where you are constantly in danger of an offensive checkmate, I gather. [ Jet muses. ] And what piece are you, Jesse?

[magnets]

Sure. [ Jesse doesn't really know how chess works, and he's not about to go poking around at it now or even to delve too deep into this metaphor. ] Hell, I dunno. One'a the little ones. [ The ones that can't do shit but get used for cannon fodder. ] Pawns, right?

[retrograding]

Pawns. [ Jet confirms, watching Jesse. ] Even pawns can capture opponents. They just have to be in the right position. [ You're talking to Jet, dude, there's no way you're escaping this metaphor. ]

[magnets]

Well, barely ever. [ He says meekly, because he's not actually sure. ] But they gotta know how to play the damn game first. [ Goddammit, Jet. ]

[retrograding]

A good point. It can be a hard game to pick up on. [ He glances back up at the sky. ] But I think the pawns are the fastest to pick up the rules when they're the first to be eliminated. You should never underestimate any piece on the board.

[ He smiles, peering down at Jesse from the corner of his eye. ] I only think you underestimate yourself, but you don't want to listen to me lecture, do you?

[magnets]

Yeah, they get to take out the pieces that'r too stupid to do anything else. [ He takes a moment to think about the true weight of those words, takes in a slow breath and looks down and away from Jet again. ]

[ There's a long pause before he answers Jet, not really sure about what he wants anymore. ]

Look, man, if you wanna say somethin', I'd rather you just say it instead'a tryin' to get me to understand some weird-ass chess whatever.

[retrograding]

[ He just looks amused. ] I think it's obvious enough, though maybe it is simply because I'm an old man who only speaks in riddles. I won't tell you that you're wasting your potential, because, if you'll excuse my French, that's bullshit. Don't get the wrong idea.

But I do think that you don't give yourself enough credit. A pawn is definitely not something I would call you.

[magnets]

Well, I ain't no queen.

[ That's a joke. Mostly. But a dig about his being very firmly in the heterosexual category kind of bleeds into something else, a useful piece that he most certainly isn't, and it sends his smirk into something tumultuous, unsure of what it wants to do or what it means. ]

You don't know me, man. You don't know what kinda anythin' that I'm good at. Potential. Ya don't know what kinda potential I got. [ Doesn't he? He doesn't sound so sure about it, but that's probably wistful thinking. ] Pawns're only good at one thing, I'd consider that pretty appropriate. But go on, try me. What am I?

[retrograding]

[ Hey, now. ] That would be why I didn't say you're wasting your potential, mijo, because I don't know. I don't know you half as well as I'd like, but what I've seen, I do know is good.

[ He watches Jesse, expression almost maybe a little exasperated. ] But I can't tell you what you are, Jesse. I can suggest that you are more than just a pawn in your own life. I could hope that you would see my way of thinking. But the ultimate decision comes down to you.

You would have to tell me. Not the other way around.