kore_logs | You get to feel so guilty, got so much for so little...

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You get to feel so guilty, got so much for so little...

Who: Fun Ghoul and OPEN!
Where: Just outside of the town hall
When: Day 80 (backdated)
What: Ghoul is officially the last Killjoy at Kore. Dedication ceremony of the Mailbox for the Dead. This is an open log. Make your own threads to tag each other, or reply to Ghoul. Anything goes.
Warnings: None yet.

That's it. They're gone and they're not coming back. Ghoul's at peace with this now. He knows they're gone, but he's gotta stay. As long as he can, he's gotta stay. And he knows that while he's here, they'll still be alive. Through him. Just like anyone else they've lost since ending up here. Those people are gone, but not forgotten. Not entirely.

The cemetery still feels oddly alien to him. It's just not what they're used to. But Finch helped him. He and finch, they went into town armed with paint and colour and they found a mailbox. Right in front of the town hall. They spent a long time decorating it, just the two of them. Gotta make it bright. Gotta be able to see it from far away.

The mailbox for the dead.

"It's a part of my culture." He says to anyone that asks. "A piece of where I come from. It's a way to remember the ones that are gone without dwellin' on it too much." And he'll smile wistfully, push his hair out of his face, and just stand there, staring at it.

"Anyone can use it." He says solemnly, slipping four envelopes inside. "It's for everyone."

If pressed, he'll answer further. If you want to be alone with your thoughts, he'll leave you to them. Either way, the mailbox is ready.

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Jesse sniffs at once, looks to the side. As he shakes of his head and huffs of laugh, he suddenly breaks into a smile that's a little sarcastic, a little self-depecrating. He's got a voice to match, "Why?" He suddenly looks back, face sobered, takes his hands out of his pockets in a shrug. "It ain't like he's gonna," And he kicks at the ground, a bit angry and sullen, "see it."

He looks down with a frown as he does so, fingers spreading agitatedly by his sides. "What's a corpse gotta do with whatever I got to say?"

Wow, no, that is not okay. Ghoul frowns, no, really frowns. He's caught somewhere between furious and deeply wounded. But maybe there's something else caught up in there. Something like understanding... or sympathy-- or just him not taking any of his 'I'm worthless, it's pointless' bullshit! Because it's not pointless. He's not worthless. Not to Jet. Which means no matter what went down between them, no matter what he thinks of Ghoul, Pinkman means something to him, too. Attachment by association.

"Hey." He says sternly, and then again with a little more intensity and a pointed finger aimed at Jesse's chest, "Hey. Not a corpse, dumbshit. It's what's inside. That's gonna see it. It probably already fuckin' knows, but it's nice to leave a little reminder. Your words'll reach him. Don't gotta believe it, just know it in your heart. He cared about you. Like one of his own, yeah? Like one of us. So you knock off this bullshit and you do it for him." He backs off, hands on his hips as he shrugs, "Or don't. Don't care. Said it before, ain't got nothin' t'do with me. Between you and him."

But you gotta know, Jesse, you have to be able to see that you wouldn't have gotten that stern speech if Ghoul didn't give a shit. If he wasn't sorry about what he tried to make you do. Just hard for him to say the actual words.

"Hey," he repeats right back, a bit indignantly, and he almost moves to swat at that finger that Ghoul's pointing at him, giving him a bit of a warning look with a cock of his head.

So the guy does give a half a shit, 'else Jesse wouldn't be getting lectured right now. Alright. Fine. He can get that. He's been forgiven for holding a gun to someone's head before, that's okay - well, no, it's not okay, it's not okay at all - he almost fucking killed the guy and that's so many degrees of decisively not good - but it's Ghoul's prerogative what he wants to do here and Jesse will go with that.

But that doesn't mean his argument's done, and he shrugs again, a little more sharply than before. "I barely even knew the guy a couple months. One, maybe, even. Guy might'a liked me plenty but I ain't no fuckin' Killjoy." He couldn't accept that. He hadn't earned it. All he'd done was disappoint Jet in the time they'd known each other and he sure as hell wasn't continuing with a bang-up job of being an upstanding citizen.

"Never said you were." He smirks. "Said like. Like one of us. Gotta earn your colours, son." But he's got the heart for it. Could use a little work on his trigger hand. But you don't shoot civilians. Ghoul may not have been innocent, but he can fix it... he ... he can try to fix it. He's not that far gone. He's not the enemy.

Or maybe he is. Can't tell anymore. Hard to know for sure.

Point is, you gotta know when to shoot and when to run. Jesse has that instinct. Ghoul can tell.

"Don't matter how long you knew him. We don't get much time where we're from. Ain't how long, it's how much. What you know 'bout a person. What you feel. Stop fightin' it and accept he was there for you. Woulda been there. Still there now somehow." Ghoul can feel that. Spaceman's gone, but he's still with him. Not that far away, never too far.

With another glance down at the grass, Jesse concedes, even as his jaw squares, angrily, and he swipes an irritated finger against the side of his nose.

He's not wrong. Jet's gone, that much is true. And it's not like Jesse is so mushy or so open-minded to believe the guy's still watching over him or some shit, spirit remaining and all that crap, but he misses him. God, he misses him. He doesn't say as much. But then again, it's awful hard not to assume the worst. There's only two choices here, and either the docs got him or he went back home, back home where Jet told him himself, he's dead there, got shot, and Jesse really doesn't know which option he prefers out of the two.

He'd like to believe Jet would've been missing him at least half as much as he was missing Jet, but sometimes he's not sure he buys it. He was a hassle then and he's a hassle now.

"The hell am I supposed to say? 'Yo, man, hope you're havin' fun kickin' the bucket, really wish you were back here and good and kidnapped, thanks-'" And he hesitates before this last part, gestures vaguely with a hand at nothing in particular. "'Thanks for noticin''?"

They're all dead. Party didn't want to believe it, wouldn't believe it, but Ghoul knows. It's over. It was over the second they walked through those doors. He knew they'd never get out of there alive. He'd hoped that maybe Jet and the Girl... but he knew he wasn't going home.

"Yeah, that's it. All you gotta say. I can't tell you what to write, Dustup. Gotta come from you. Write what you feel." He's not looking away, Jesse, he's gonna stare at you until you stare back. "It helps." Easier than talking.

Write what you feel, huh, yeah. Jesse gives that sarcastic laugh again, exhales and glances away from Ghoul some more with a shake of his head. "Yeah, alright, you write what you want?" And he finally does look back at Ghoul with raised eyebrows now, folds his arms a little cagily and leans in a step. "But I ain't no faggot. I'm not keepin' a journal over here."

Whatever. Right now, he just wants a fucking cigarette all over again.

"Dustup," he says instead, with barely a pause in between thoughts. It's blankly, and almost a question.

Ghoul just rolls his eyes at that comment. Whatever. His work here is done. Got a letter to Jet in progress, that's all that matters.

... And then he smirks. And snorts. And smiles real wide. "Yeah. That's you. Suits you." Better than specifying Jesses all the time. "Just go with it. It works."

"Uh. Okay." He shifts his stance and spreads out an arm, what the hell are you playin' at? "What's it s'posed to mean? Again?"

Gotta get this kid a dictionary...

"A dustup. Brawl. Fight. Argument. Motherfuckin' fisticuffs. Go down to the bar, get in a dustup, come home with a black eye or worse." Another point and a nod in Jesse's direction in case it wasn't clear the first time, "That's you."

And, believe it or not, it's said... with something bordering on admiration. Because it takes one hell of a punch to take Ghoul out. Pinkman came real close.

Jesse sniffs, glances off as he shucks a finger under his chin. "Yeah? Like the black eye I gave you?" Much as Ghoul's doing the admiration thing, Jesse sounds almost proud of the feat. There's a lot he isn't too fucking keen on that he's done, dealings with his present company included. But the guy sure as hell deserved a punch in the face or two, and Jesse's glad he gave it to him.

Though he's still not sure what he's more ashamed on otherwise, if it's pulling the gun on him in the first place, or not having the balls to pull the trigger.

"Whatever. I can dig it."

Ghoul snickers, nodding. "Yeah. Just like that one." The one he LET you give him-- actually, no, that punch really did catch him off guard. Hard to stay sharp when your life is falling apart all around you.

He scratches at the back of his head, looking anywhere but Jesse's face. "Should probably... apologize. For goadin' you on. M'not okay with what happened." With him and Pinkman or him and Finch. "Just want you to know I'm tryin'. To fix it for him. And if you ever need it, I'm gonna watch out for you." Because it's what Jet would have wanted. He doesn't have to accept, but it's there. On the table. If Jesse wants it.

Jesse just watches Ghoul, for a few awful long seconds after he's done speaking. His hands are back in his pockets and he stands surprisingly still for once, just lets everything slowly soak its way in before he can muster a response. Watch out for him, huh? "Who's asking you to?"

That's all very cavalier and all, but he doesn't really care how Ghoul regards him, not right now. That's not what's most important to him here, and that's gotta be Finch. Finch and Ghoul and all the mess that entails, doesn't even know where to start there and so he just takes another careful step in towards Ghoul, beginnings of a frown on his face.

"How're you gonna put it right by him, huh?" What's that even going to be? How does he fix that? How does he even begin to fix- "Cuz, I mean, that's on you now. Far as I'm concerned, you don't even got other priorities."

It takes everything he's got not to lose his cool. He manages to keep the frown small and his voice at a reasonable volume, but it's boiling up inside already. Two angry guys with a lot of tension and no where to direct that rage but at each other.

"No one's askin'. Why someone gotta ask? Just offered. Fuck." Bite his damn head off, why dontcha? Trying to offer a fucking olive branch and he's just spitting right in his face. But Ghoul doesn't back away. Doesn't move back OR forward. Stands his ground. Stays put.

"Don't know yet. Been tryin' t'figure that shit out since I got back to normal, but I'll figure somethin' so--" The 'back the fuck off' gets stuck in his throat and he just lets it go. "So lemme figure. Not so fuckin' easy, okay?"

"So don't offer either," Jesse shoots back, a little tightly. Maybe it's something about the mailbox and everything their conversation's drumming up, but he can feel an edge of guilt underneath it all. He knows Ghoul meant a lot to Jet. This shit would've been a lot different if he was still here.

But he's not, and yeah, Jesse's got a temper. Jesse's having an awful hard time looking past that temper when it comes to Ghoul, but admittedly he's not trying incredibly hard yet.

He shrugs a shoulder, furrows his eyebrows at Ghoul - a bit dangerously when there's almost that implication there, the bit of a snappy tone in his voice, but it wanes. "Yeah, well, you did kinda kill someone," he says flatly, wetting his lips and watching Ghoul with a bit of a deadpan expression. "Last I checked, it ain't supposed to be easy for you."

Boy, you haven't even seen a temper. This half-assed, unwarranted lecture from a guy who ain't seen half the shit Ghoul has is pushing him over the edge and he can't keep it in check anymore. He looks too the side, snorts, you're hilarious, Pinkman, really. So funny. But he's not laughing.

Instead, his hand shoots out much like the last time, going for his throat and slamming him back up against the mailbox. Aw, baby, did that hurt? Good. He gets up in Pinkman's face, slowly squeezing that throat and keeping him pinned. Stay put, motherfucker, he's got something to say to you.

"Finch wasn't the first. And he won't be the last. I killed a lotta people 'fore I got here, and I'm probably gonna kill more before I leave. Can't help that. No remorse for that shit. But him? That one I felt. You know why?" Still conscious, Jesse? Is this getting through? "Because that one wasn't my call. That wasn't my decision. When I kill someone, I got a damn good reason, but that? Senseless bullshit. And I know what he's been through better than you ever will. So I can fix it. I will fix it. And you are gonna shut your fuckin' mouth about lest I shut it up for you. Got it?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He applies a little more pressure before pulling Jesse up and slamming him back down again against the metal. Drive the point home. Make it stick. Sorry, Jet. He tried.

And now he's leaving. Enjoy the fucking view. Ghoul's gone.

It's one of those cases where, yeah, he kind of gets it, he's pushing it here and Ghoul's got an awful lot to be angry about - he's fully expecting there to be a reaction here. It's the 'what' in this situation that he doesn't exactly see coming, and by the time he gets to think about it, he's got a metal edge jammed up into his back and a hand squeezing tight against his neck.

A half of a choked sound leaves between clenched teeth and then nothing, he can't talk, he can't breathe, he can't anything but throw his hands out and push into Ghoul's chest as hard as he can. It's not easy to get leverage when they're this close and, short as he is, the guy's built like a tank; nothing happens. Between that and the few sparkles starting to ebb into his vision, he panics.

Only half the words are even sinking in, he's too focused on the fingers tight into his skin, and he sinks a few punches into Ghoul's side at first - those are focused. It's just about the time when Ghoul's starting to wrap up when these black cloudy edges start to crawl their way in from Jesse's sides when he gives a bit of a last-ditch effort, leaves a trail of nail marks on Ghoul's own throat, there's that last final squeeze and then-

It's done, he's walking away. Jesse slides down the mailbox, and whatever rebuttal he might have and could have spit back is left by the wayside, with him shaking and gasping on all fours in the grass.

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You get to feel so guilty, got so much for so little...

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