I like to keep my issues drawn

[rigging]

Who: Jesse and OPEN
What: The best way for Jesse Finch to (healthily) get his anxieties out is by drawing and painting. Which means he's out spray painting and mural-ing (and not punching in windows). Feel free to run into him anytime, during any sort of painting!
Where: All over town
When: Day 74

Jesse is finally starting to feel normal again.

He can sleep without six or seven nightmares a night, he feels comfortable in his own bed, he doesn't have to cover the cameras - he feels at ease, and it's nice. It's something he just wants to forget, now. And the best way, he's found, is to draw it out. But today, paper isn't cutting it. He wants a bigger canvas, he wants bigger tools, and he wants more of the feeling he'd gotten when he'd tagged with Pinkman, before.

So he sets out to do that. He looks better than he has, well-fed, in less layers and without the hunched shoulders and anxious expression that's been the norm lately. People will find him all over town, hood pulled up, the sound of spray paint cans being shaken constantly, covering the walls in all sorts of art. Mostly of birds. Because Finch. Get it?

Those around the fountain will find, on a wall, the words Before I Die, I Want To: with a box of broken chalk next to it. Jesse will be nearby, painting something else - he's curious to see the answers.

Comments

[magnets]

The guy looks way better, he has to admit.

There's really nothing to do around this town; Jesse finds himself wandering out aimlessly more than anything. Walks haven't exactly ever cleared his head but maybe it's better than sticking around in a house that feels way more empty than he's gotten accustomed to here.

His hands are shoved in his jacket pockets when he comes across Finch, the smell of spraypaint permeating the air, and he stops just before the fountain mural. Before I die, huh? He points, hand still jammed into his pocket, to the empty lines before he speaks up. "Ya didn't answer it."

[rigging]

Jesse looks up at the familiar voice, and pushes his hood down, shrugging. What sort of answer does he want to give, here? Because there are plenty. In the end he takes a step over to the empty lines and peers down at them.

"S'more for the YOLO crowd," Jesse says casually, squinting at the words on the wall. "Been there, done that." But he'll scoot closer to pick up a piece of chalk, anyway.

[magnets]

Yeah, he has played that game, hasn't he? Something Jesse almost forgets and nearly drags a wince out of him when Finch replies. "There's gotta be somethin', though, am I right? Go to Italy. Fly a hot air balloon." He shrugs, tacks on, "Nail Brad Pitt or somethin'," for good measure.

"YOLO," Jesse adds after a beat or two, and it's almost a question. Three years and jargon's changed a lot with you crazy kids and your internet.

[rigging]

That gets a loud snort. "Definitely up there on my t'do list, there, Pinkman." No, but seriously. He shrugs, looking up at the wall for a second, and then he glances at Pinkman lazily before reaching up to scrawl against the wall.

Get married is what he writes, because nobody's going to recognize his handwriting. Glances back at Pinkman, and offers the chalk. "You next." A beat. "And it means 'you only live once'."

[greenisnteasy]

Bruce likes the colorful improvements to the town that he notices on his way home, but the graffiti-turned-DIY motivational poster is what gets him to stop and smile, looking over the question and the blank canvas of answers. It makes him wish he had a good answer to put there, but really, before Bruce dies? He wants to figure out how. That's a pretty morbid way to go about it, and he stands there thinking, trying to work around what has to be an ingrained negative thinking about the other guy.

Finally, he picks up the chalk and lifts it to the board, but he hesitates before he finally writes heal myself. That could he taken a lot of ways -- literally, emotionally. Maybe he means all of them.

Deciding he's done, he sets the chalk down and heads over to Jesse, sliding his hands in his pockets.

"Tell me -- and be honest, now." He stops and narrows his eyes, but he can't stop the smile that's about to bloom. "Are you Banksy?"

[rigging]

Honestly, Jesse's getting a kick out of seeing the colors. It makes it a little less dreary and dull, here. He's paused to look over one of his pieces with a little smile when he hears someone in the area, so he turns, just in time to see Bruce pick up the chalk. Heal himself. It just makes Jesse want to help.

What he can do is turn fully to Bruce and grin widely at the question, rubbing at the back of his head. Oops, paint on his hoodie, but whatever. Not like he cares. "Nah, not nearly that sneaky, yeah?"

A beat, and then another, and then Jesse can't help himself. He doesn't quite throw himself at Bruce but it's a close thing. He'd talked to the Hulk - but that isn't the same. Just let him hug you for a bit, Bruce. And mutter a hey into your shoulder.

[greenisnteasy]

Hugs are always acceptable. He wraps his arms around Jesse and holds him tight, and he doesn't care if he comes out of this with paint all over him either. Also he's not calling hug chicken until Jesse does, so he winds up just holding him and closing his eyes and smelling paint and enjoying the way Jesse seems more put together. How happy he seems, the bright colors of the artwork. He's bleeding it out, and that's good; that's a sign of healing.

"I saw you made up with the Hulk," he says finally, leaning back enough to see him but not letting go yet. Is that weird? It just feels like ages since he and Jesse really had a chance to talk about anything that wasn't devastating on some level.

[rigging]

This is one of those last few pieces that gets the few bits of anxiety he has left out of his lungs. He needed this hug, and he needed Bruce being unwilling to let him go, telling him his artwork is good and just - being here. Jesse's so glad that he's here, and when Bruce finally leans back to look at him, Jesse's basically glowing with how happy he is.

"Yeah. I apologized t'him cause I sparked him," Jesse says, smiling a little ruefully. "And cause I called him your name. But - he hugged me, so." He might be holding onto Bruce a little tightly. Just to make sure he's not going anywhere.

"I ain't - I ain't seen you for a long time, feels like."

[nedofpies]

Ned spots Jesse in the midst of his spray painting, makes his way over at a leisurely pace, enjoying watching the colours and lines take shape before his eyes. Ned has been near enough to Jesse, since he came back. He's seen how hard it's been for him, is keenly aware of every inch of improvement. The fact that he's out here now, on his own, relatively at his ease, is a very good sign.

Spotting the developing collective bucket list, Ned goes over to it, peering at the things which have already been written. He picks up a piece of chalk but stands there, hand hovering.

"I don't have any idea what to write," he says, conversationally. He's never really been the kind of person who had grand ambitions and plans for the future. He'd wanted to open his own shop, had only just gotten hold of that dream before he was brought here.

[rigging]

When he hears Ned's voice, Jesse smiles and glances over his shoulder, pushing his hood down and lowering the can. He gets it. It's a harder question than you'd think, really. It took a while for Jesse to come up with something - past his own problems and troubles with life and death, settling on one important thing had been difficult. Jesse slides over to Ned, keeping his usual careful respectful distance away from Ned and looking up at the wall.

"Took me forever," Jesse tells him, smiling a little. "Gotta be something, right? Cook every flavor of pie in the world, maybe."

[nedofpies]

"I think I've might've already cooked every kind I know of," Ned admits, with a hint of self-deprecation. He knows how ludicrous his obsession with pies probably seems to someone like Jesse; it was his sole interest and hobby for so many years of his life. But then Jesse's never really been one to judge. After looking at the blank space at the bottom of the list for a little while longer he sets down the chalk with a little sigh. It's going to take a bit more thinking before he's ready to come up with anything.

"Which one's yours?"

Ned knows it is a personal question, but hopefully if Jesse wrote it up here in public, he won't mind owning up to which one is his. If not, he can always choose not to answer.

[rigging]

Nah, he's never one to judge. He kind of thinks it's cool, even - Ned's got dedication and there's no way Jesse couldn't be a fan of that. Maybe he makes a pfft sound at what Ned says, but he doesn't push it. Definitely takes some thought, this sort of thing, which is exactly what Jesse was intending. As for the question, Jesse glances up at the wall, to Ned, and then back again, biting his lip. Well. Why not?

He leans to tap the part of the wall that says get married, shrugging slightly with a smile. "Sappy s'fuck, that's me."

[tooghoulforschool]

It's not like Ghoul's been avoiding Jesse per se-- actually... actually, that's exactly what he's been doing. It's not because he doesn't want to face the consequences. Fuck that. Bring it on. No one thinks he deserves some kind of repercussion more than Ghoul himself. But no one blames him. They keep telling him it wasn't his fault. Who's fucking fault was it, then? Because Jesse's the only one that suffered.

He's been staying away for his victim's sake. He doesn't want to upset him. Something like that's gotta mess a guy up, and he doesn't want to make it worse.

But it's a small town. He gets cagey sometimes, cooped up too long. It's not good. He walks. Happens more frequently with Jet gone. Sometimes he's out for hours. He doesn't stick around any one place too long, usually. But this wall. Not the list, fuck the list. It's another piece he's standing in front of, not necessarily focusing on the image itself at first. It's something he hasn't seen in a while. Something he misses. Something that tugs at the place his heart would be if he still had one.

Colour.

Ghoul just stands there, awestruck and staring. He wouldn't notice anyone approaching. Too busy following the lines. Now he's focused on the details.

[rigging]

Small towns means everybody is going to run into each other at some point. It's impossible to avoid. And Jesse would never take away Ghoul's right to wander the town and get out of the cooped up feeling, not ever, not when he knows exactly how it feels. So if he ever sees Ghoul, he tries not to make a big deal out of it. He stays away until it's easier.

This time, today, when he sees Ghoul staring up at the wall full of color in front of him, Jesse's chest doesn't seize up. His back doesn't ache. He's not as afraid.

It makes him feel good, and it lets him approach, slide up to Ghoul and look up at the color by his side for a moment. He doesn't know much about the killjoys, but he does know that color is like bait. Like setting out a bowl full of milk for cats. He'd been sort of hoping that he'd attract Ghoul out here, because he's ready to talk to him.

He'll just let Ghoul notice him.

[tooghoulforschool]

It takes him a while. A long while, considering the Killjoy is always on guard and typically hyper-vigilant. He's too caught up in the art and the wave of homesickness that washes over him. It's not even the zones he particularly misses, no, home isn't a place. Home is the Girl, Party Poison, Jet Star, Kobra Kid, and the car. Home is being on the run with the only people he gives a shit about. Home is fucking shattered right now, and he's only got one piece of it left, and he's holding on so fucking tight that the jagged edges are cutting into his flesh leaving him in constant pain.

He's not sure if this helps yet. He's still staring when he realises Jesse is there.

"... This your handiwork?"

[rigging]

Jesse has no idea what Ghoul is thinking, even though he wishes he did. The killjoy is such a mystery to him, but Jesse knows there's a lot there that he's missing. He's curious. The desert, the way he's heard it described - it sounds like paradise, even though he knows it can't really be. But it's gotta be something. He shrugs a little when Ghoul speaks up, humming quietly.

"Yeah," Jesse says quietly. "S'mine."

[gleans]

Galen has a feeling that this is what Jesse went out to do, so he makes an effort to give him some space. Like Galen and his music, art is one of those things Jesse needs to spend time with alone. It airs out his thoughts, acts as a sort of therapy, and Galen doesn't want to interrupt that.

He is, however, Jesse's biggest fan, and intensely curious about what he's doing out there with that box of spray paint cans, stencils, and brushes. So after a couple of hours, Galen thinks it's fair to take a walk, not to drag Jesse away from what he's doing, but -- just to see.

The first thing he comes upon is the colourful mess of birds and swirls in Jesse's distinct style, and that makes him smile. He's seen a lot of the stuff Jesse's drawn since the incident, and this is so much brighter -- it makes his chest feel full, but not in a bad way. It's a hopeful feeling, and he has to resist the urge to touch the paint, knowing that it's wet; he can hear the shake and spray of Jesse working somewhere else, probably around a corner, so Galen stays quiet, heads for the fountain.

He can see Jesse, now, working on something, but Galen's eye is drawn to the black rectangle on one wall that people have already written on. It's a really cool idea, and he smiles as he gets close enough to read the writing. Heal myself, forgive myself, fuck Sasha Grey and Megan Fox too... the first one, though - get married - digs at him, makes his stomach clench. He glances back at Jesse - still working - and back at the words, knowing they could be anyone's -- but knowing, too, they could be Jesse's. It looks enough like his handwriting. But he could be imagining it. Didn't Jesse say he thought marriage is stupid? And even if it's his, it's not like it says get married to Galen. That would -- it wouldn't work, anyway, not back home. Not with their schedules, and everyone being in their fucking business, and -- fuck it, it's probably not even Jesse's.

He stands staring at the wall, having this internal argument long enough that it's likely Jesse will notice, anyway.

[rigging]

The best part about all of this is when he's finished one painting, it makes him feel lighter. Less dragged and bogged down. He's just looking over something that he's finished when he hears someone in the area, and with a relieved sort of exhale of breath, he looks over to see who it is. When he realizes it's Galen, his chest gets all tight and warm, in the best of ways, and he doesn't bother waiting or anything. He just heads over, slides up behind Galen and wraps his arms around Galen's waist, pressing his face into his neck.

"Hi," Jesse murmurs, holding him tightly. Hi, can you feel how much he loves you just by how he's holding you? Because he's trying to make that evident. "You gonna write something?"

[gleans]

He jolts a little when Jesse's suddenly there, but quickly warms to his touch, hands finding Jesse's around his middle. Galen lets out a deep breath, tears his eyes from that first line and leans back slightly, into Jesse's warmth.

"He--Hey. I dunno, I haven't thought of anything yet." He smirks, not that Jesse can see it, teasing. "Number two took mine." Jesse should know that neither of them actually do anything for him, so it's an obvious joke.

[recognize_an_opportunity]

He'd like to say he isn't wandering aimlessly, but he is, really. There's not enough to do around this tiny town most of the time, and even though he has the card game to focus on now, that isn't enough to eat up every waking hour of the day. So walking and thinking becomes his outlet for energy more often than not -- his thoughts are almost never idle, even when, to the outside observer, he might look completely bored, completely without purpose.

When he passes by the fountain, though, and sees the wall with the words written on it, he slows to a stop, looking at it curiously. Some people have already written things on the wall, filled in what they want to do before they die (some seem serious, some seem amusing, and it makes him smile a little), but there are still empty spaces.

"Interesting idea," he says casually, to the guy painting the wall nearby.

[rigging]

This is a guy Jesse's never seen before. There's a part of him that freezes up in the back of his mind, leftover from the anxieties that have had him so torn up the past few weeks, but he promptly ignores it. It never used to be difficult for him to talk to people he's never met before, and he intends to get back to that point. So when he hears Meyer speak up, Jesse glances over his shoulder and pushes his hood down, pausing in what he's painting.

"Yeah? Glad you think so," Jesse offers, with half a smile. "M'a little surprised people have wrote on it so far."

[recognize_an_opportunity]

Meyer's never seen Jesse before, either, which always surprises him slightly; in such a small town, it seems like he should know everyone by now, but every so often, he sees someone he hasn't before. That might be because he's still not used to talking to people through the communicators, still finds them a bit confusing, and determinedly despises the video function of them.

"The way I see it, people around here would rather focus on the things they want to do before they die than the fact that they're stuck here. It's a good distraction."

That doesn't mean he's going to take the opportunity to write something himself, although he's eying the chalk thoughtfully. "What I'm surprised by," he says, "is that people seem to have been pretty honest."

[dowhatisays]

Charlie is out and about (mostly avoiding boredom) when he comes upon Jesse's little motivational poster. And stops. And stares.

"What the fuck is that supposed to be for?"

[rigging]

Jesse pauses in his painting, glancing over at the newcomer to give him an amused look. "Does it gotta have a reason?"

[dowhatisays]

"It's a lotta fucking work for something you're doing for no reason, pal." Art is a slightly strange and foreign concept to Charlie. As far as he can tell it's just something people buy to show how rick they are.