Management (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiftmanager) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
theelmemeium2023-02-10 07:50 pm
shiftmanager) wrote in theelmemeium2023-02-10 07:50 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME
Welcome to the opening test drive of
theelysium! Invitations are not required to play on the inaugural TDM. Test drive threads may be considered game canon if all participants wish to maintain the CR developed here. This TDM doubles as an arrival log for the game's opening.
The first application round is closed to friends of the moderators. If you are interested in joining the game but do not know anyone involved, you may reach out to the mod team to request an invitation for the March app round.
If you have any questions about the setting, here are some links to the game's premise and setting information pages.
Thank you for playing! We're excited to have you.
ARRIVAL
When you came to, you were mid-conversation with someone you've never seen before, nodding along to instructions that seem to evaporate into the air after they're spoken aloud. You've been welcomed into the industry, given your ID and uniform, and escorted to the back of house. It seemed natural then to just go along with it, to be cordial and pleasant, no matter how insincere it might have been.
They asked you to sit for a while and gather your bearings, and so you sit. The rest settles slowly as you adjust and find the rest of yourself returning. At least the couches are soft.
The room is dark, lit only by a rotating set of colored lights that move across a determined track, bathing the collected employees in bright shades of blue, pink, and violet. Some tables are internally lit in fluorescent shades, surrounding everything in a hazy glow. Distantly, a thumping vibration shakes the southmost wall, indicating something terribly noisy on the other side.
But at the north, a wall panel springs to life, revealing a mustached man who smiles at them warmly. They can try to interject, but it seems to be a prerecorded message; he doesn't pause or acknowledge them in the slightest as he welcomes them.
"Congratulations! We're happy to have you onboard at the finest entertainment venue ever erected. There's still a while before your first shift starts, so why don't you take a couple of hours to make yourselves at home? There are snacks and drinks in the mini fridge, and the schedule is posted out in the costume room. Tap your card to the ATM in the corner if you need to check the balance of your debt or withdraw any chips. We've been bringing in more guests than ever lately, so be sure you take care of them!"
He smiles in a way that someone, somewhere, might have found charming once.
"Remember the big rules. Customer service always comes first. We do what the guests want. And whatever happens here, stays here. Shift schedule's posted right below me, so take a minute to figure out where you're supposed to be. Next shift change happens in an hour, so you should think about getting ready soon if you're on deck. A lot of people were gunning for the job you've got. Don't make us regret bringing you on board."
The message ends and the monitor falls black again, leaving them to their own devices. Those scheduled for the next shift will only have half an hour before they start to feel the compulsion to prepare, to check their makeup and make sure there's no food in their teeth, to clock in and work. But others will have longer to explore before the next shift change. Maybe they're the ones who have enough time to figure out what's happening before things go too far. Maybe there's hope.
They asked you to sit for a while and gather your bearings, and so you sit. The rest settles slowly as you adjust and find the rest of yourself returning. At least the couches are soft.The room is dark, lit only by a rotating set of colored lights that move across a determined track, bathing the collected employees in bright shades of blue, pink, and violet. Some tables are internally lit in fluorescent shades, surrounding everything in a hazy glow. Distantly, a thumping vibration shakes the southmost wall, indicating something terribly noisy on the other side.
But at the north, a wall panel springs to life, revealing a mustached man who smiles at them warmly. They can try to interject, but it seems to be a prerecorded message; he doesn't pause or acknowledge them in the slightest as he welcomes them.
"Congratulations! We're happy to have you onboard at the finest entertainment venue ever erected. There's still a while before your first shift starts, so why don't you take a couple of hours to make yourselves at home? There are snacks and drinks in the mini fridge, and the schedule is posted out in the costume room. Tap your card to the ATM in the corner if you need to check the balance of your debt or withdraw any chips. We've been bringing in more guests than ever lately, so be sure you take care of them!"He smiles in a way that someone, somewhere, might have found charming once.
"Remember the big rules. Customer service always comes first. We do what the guests want. And whatever happens here, stays here. Shift schedule's posted right below me, so take a minute to figure out where you're supposed to be. Next shift change happens in an hour, so you should think about getting ready soon if you're on deck. A lot of people were gunning for the job you've got. Don't make us regret bringing you on board."
The message ends and the monitor falls black again, leaving them to their own devices. Those scheduled for the next shift will only have half an hour before they start to feel the compulsion to prepare, to check their makeup and make sure there's no food in their teeth, to clock in and work. But others will have longer to explore before the next shift change. Maybe they're the ones who have enough time to figure out what's happening before things go too far. Maybe there's hope.
WORKING THE EVENT FLOOR
Most of the assigned shifts correlate to obvious locations or tasks. Run blackjack at table 46A, stand security at the adult-only entrance on the third floor, hop behind the Starlight Bar and get to mixing drinks.But those scheduled to work on the Event Floor will find their workday dominated by a particular pastiche.
With Valentine’s Day looming soon, the event floor is decked out for romance and decadence. A plush red carpet has been rolled out underfoot, providing a contrast to the white marble gaming tables. Everything is a shade of white, red, or pink, with floral accents and expensive strings of pearls providing a festive touch. Even the cigarette girls and boys are distributing more festive substances, like cigars that burn up in pink smoke.
Everything seems arranged with the intent of bringing people together: the chairs are all a little closer than usual, and even some of the slot machine setups invite two players to share a machine and split their winnings. Staff are informed that several high rollers want to be surrounded by romance, and their job is to help facilitate that. When two neighbors win at roulette, winning chips should be passed over in a way that will all but force players’ hands to touch when they recover their winnings. If a dealer notices a spark between players, it might be the right time to swap to a marked deck and help make sure they win enough for a dopamine release into each other’s arms. Maybe it’s just a friendship! But maybe it can be something more than that. What could be a better icebreaker?
Bartenders on the event floor are given instructions to mix specialty drinks in addition to normal beverages. This time, the Elysium is featuring the following items: hatsukoi fizz, a light beverage that makes a person's mood as bubbly as the champagne tickling their nose, blushing rose, which makes a person a little more coquettish and flirty, the piercing arrow, a strong mix of intoxicants designed to lower inhibitions, and the (only available in Adult playspaces) widow’s kiss, a dark liquor that burns down the throat and spreads out from there, generating an uncontrollable passion that can only be satisfied with physical contact.
Performers will be asked to keep it romantic, largely featuring cabaret ensembles singing round-the-clock love songs and romantic ballads, broken up by ensemble performances of shows called “Venus Delight” and “Queen of Hearts.” Performers in Adults-Only spaces might additionally find themselves dancing a part in “Fête De L'amour” or “Somebawdy to Love.” There are even spaces designed for the lovelorn, and entertainers stationed there may end up guiding singalongs to breakup songs and consoling intoxicated guests who can't get through the chorus of "Love Hurts" without breaking down. If you find yourself signed up to do something embarrassing, just throw some more glitter on yourself to hide whatever’s causing you shame. It’ll be fun if you let it.
With Valentine’s Day looming soon, the event floor is decked out for romance and decadence. A plush red carpet has been rolled out underfoot, providing a contrast to the white marble gaming tables. Everything is a shade of white, red, or pink, with floral accents and expensive strings of pearls providing a festive touch. Even the cigarette girls and boys are distributing more festive substances, like cigars that burn up in pink smoke.Everything seems arranged with the intent of bringing people together: the chairs are all a little closer than usual, and even some of the slot machine setups invite two players to share a machine and split their winnings. Staff are informed that several high rollers want to be surrounded by romance, and their job is to help facilitate that. When two neighbors win at roulette, winning chips should be passed over in a way that will all but force players’ hands to touch when they recover their winnings. If a dealer notices a spark between players, it might be the right time to swap to a marked deck and help make sure they win enough for a dopamine release into each other’s arms. Maybe it’s just a friendship! But maybe it can be something more than that. What could be a better icebreaker?
Bartenders on the event floor are given instructions to mix specialty drinks in addition to normal beverages. This time, the Elysium is featuring the following items: hatsukoi fizz, a light beverage that makes a person's mood as bubbly as the champagne tickling their nose, blushing rose, which makes a person a little more coquettish and flirty, the piercing arrow, a strong mix of intoxicants designed to lower inhibitions, and the (only available in Adult playspaces) widow’s kiss, a dark liquor that burns down the throat and spreads out from there, generating an uncontrollable passion that can only be satisfied with physical contact.
Performers will be asked to keep it romantic, largely featuring cabaret ensembles singing round-the-clock love songs and romantic ballads, broken up by ensemble performances of shows called “Venus Delight” and “Queen of Hearts.” Performers in Adults-Only spaces might additionally find themselves dancing a part in “Fête De L'amour” or “Somebawdy to Love.” There are even spaces designed for the lovelorn, and entertainers stationed there may end up guiding singalongs to breakup songs and consoling intoxicated guests who can't get through the chorus of "Love Hurts" without breaking down. If you find yourself signed up to do something embarrassing, just throw some more glitter on yourself to hide whatever’s causing you shame. It’ll be fun if you let it.
FEATURED GAME: CUPID’S CRUSH
In addition to the casino standards that are present with a pinkish facelift, the Event Floor provides plenty of places to play a limited-time game tailored to the current theme.
In Cupid's Crush, a group of two to six players around a table are given cards marked "secrets" and "deeds," each respectively symbolizing a hidden truth or a scandalous dare. One by one, each player will decide whether they want to participate in a round. If they’re staying in, they must submit a card from either pile. If a player folds, they are eliminated from the betting pool. Card submissions continue in this way, clockwise, until a player either can no longer play or no longer wants to continue. When their turn comes to play a card, a player can instead opt to trigger the betting phase.
The game ends when one of two possible conditions are met:
(1) A player is unwilling or unable to complete the tasks on the cards set in front of them. If they’ve bitten off more than they can chew, they are immediately declared Crushed.
(2) One player has won two rounds and completed all their challenges. The winning player may then choose which player at the table receives Cupid’s Crush.
Crushed players are the undisputed losers of the game. The penalty for receiving Cupid’s Crush is a sudden overwhelming infatuation with the winning player. (In cases where a player receives a crush after failing to fulfill the cards, the object of the infatuation is chosen by the Dealer.) Whether merely uninterested or actively married to someone else, Cupid’s Crush is an immediate obsession, bordering on worship.
There’s nothing sweeter than falling in love on such a romantic holiday, right? How could love be wrong? It seems like this is a game where everyone wins.
In Cupid's Crush, a group of two to six players around a table are given cards marked "secrets" and "deeds," each respectively symbolizing a hidden truth or a scandalous dare. One by one, each player will decide whether they want to participate in a round. If they’re staying in, they must submit a card from either pile. If a player folds, they are eliminated from the betting pool. Card submissions continue in this way, clockwise, until a player either can no longer play or no longer wants to continue. When their turn comes to play a card, a player can instead opt to trigger the betting phase.
The game ends when one of two possible conditions are met:
(1) A player is unwilling or unable to complete the tasks on the cards set in front of them. If they’ve bitten off more than they can chew, they are immediately declared Crushed.
(2) One player has won two rounds and completed all their challenges. The winning player may then choose which player at the table receives Cupid’s Crush.
Crushed players are the undisputed losers of the game. The penalty for receiving Cupid’s Crush is a sudden overwhelming infatuation with the winning player. (In cases where a player receives a crush after failing to fulfill the cards, the object of the infatuation is chosen by the Dealer.) Whether merely uninterested or actively married to someone else, Cupid’s Crush is an immediate obsession, bordering on worship.
There’s nothing sweeter than falling in love on such a romantic holiday, right? How could love be wrong? It seems like this is a game where everyone wins.
OFF DUTY
While half of the new arrivals file off to work on their shifts, everyone else is left to their own devices during their free time. Why not venture out and explore one of the locations in this new home of yours? Hang out in the back rooms and mingle with your new coworkers, or perhaps you’d rather head out and try out some games yourself? There seems to be plenty of reason to try out playing. Maybe you'll win big and get rid of all that new Debt of yours! Maybe you'll find a friend who's working a shift - why are they even going along with this crazy place, anyway?
Whatever they decide to do with their free time is up to them. Everything goes, as long as you show up for work on time when it’s your turn.
Whatever they decide to do with their free time is up to them. Everything goes, as long as you show up for work on time when it’s your turn.
III.
Now this is the third asshole cook today who's barking orders and dinging the bell like he's going to die if the food isn't grabbed right this second.
Truthfully, if it weren't for the mysterious compulsions this place had over people, she wouldn't have even shown up today. She still hasn't been able to find any heroin, and the withdrawls have been killing her. She has been able to get a little bit of weed off the black market, though, and probably would have just stayed in her pod all day smoking a blunt if some magic hadn't suddenly possessed her to start getting ready for work.
While she doesn't look nearly as worse for wear as Jesse does, there's definitely something haggard about her. Grayish purple bags are visible under her eyes. Her voice is a little hoarse, but that might be from yelling, which she's been doing a lot of lately.
Including at the asshole who keeps dinging that goddamn bell! ]
Okay, okay! I'm coming! So you can stop the ding-ding-ding-ing any second n--
[ Jane reaches up to grab the order and stops short. She stares. The person on the other side of the window isn't an asshole at all. Her heart almost stops. He looks all wrong and Jane can't imagine what happened or how he was able to get like this.
When she speaks again, she's not yelling. Her voice is soft and shocked. ]
Jesse?
[ What happened to you??? ]
cw: ptsd/mental illness, flashbacks, morbid imagery
[ Jesse stops mid-rant when he makes eye contact with whoever it is complaining about his bell-ringing. The front of house and back of house are notoriously at odds with each other, but it's generally a love-hate kind of relationship. That's always how it goes working in a restaurant. You yell at each other and cuss each other out, but once everyone clocks out for the night, you're one big family. That, and nobody outside the circle's allowed to pick on any of your own.
All his thoughts go blank, though, as recognition sets in. It's been a long couple of years since he's seen Jane and, while she might look a little rougher than she's used to looking, well...she looks a hell of a lot better than the last time he saw her just before she got zipped into a body bag and carried out his duplex apartment.
At first, his head spins and he has to grab onto the stainless steel countertop he's standing behind, squeezing his eyes shut. He's pretty sure he's having a stroke or fucking hallucinating. Maybe it's all those head injuries finally taking their toll. There's a loud ringing in his ears and he grimaces, pain sparking behind his tightly shut eyes. ]
Fuck, not now...c'mon...
[ Jesse mumbles because he doesn't know what fucking medication he needs to be put on to stop seeing his dead fucking girlfriend. But when he opens his eyes again, she's still standing there. It's not like when he has flashbacks. Those images are usually fleeting, and even when it's a more extensive episode, the setting is always back in Albuquerque, not here. Not at The Elysium. He swallows hard and steels himself, getting his shit together and straightening up again, but all the pain and confusion is still visible in his eyes regardless of how well he shoves it all away; compartmentalizes. ]
Jane...? How? You're...you were dead. I saw it. I--
[ He watched the coroner take her away and felt a piece of his heart go with her...that was so long ago. He thought he'd healed, but it's like scar tissue splitting open all over again; raw and bleeding. ]
no subject
Jane is almost, almost too stunned by Jesse's appearance to catch that part, but it's hard to miss your (as far as you know, current) boyfriend telling you that you're dead. It's not that it's a shock, exactly. Well, it kinda is. But at the same time, it doesn't take a genius to see it happening.
But...
Jane's stomach clenches. She tries to swallow but she can't. Her throat is too dry. She reaches out with shaky hands to take the plate of food and it's a minor miracle that she doesn't drop it and shatter the plate and spill everything everywhere. She isn't sure what alarms her more -- hearing that she's dead or the state Jesse seems to be in. It's not just the scars either. As she watches him, it's clear he's having some kind of episode. She's not sure if it's drug-induced or something even worse, but she's going to find out. She can't just ignore it.
When she speaks again, her tone changes completely. It's soft and gentle; cajoling him. ]
It's okay, baby. I'll bring them their food. Then we'll go on a break. Okay?
[ She goes to deliver the food to the table of the guests, before she comes back to Jesse. She still speaks to him gently as she goes back into the kitchen to gently touch his elbow. ]
Come on. They won't miss us for ten minutes. Let's go. You can tell me what the hell happened to you.
no subject
Stainless steel countertop. Cold to the touch. Grey tiled flooring. Jet black hair. Jane.
Jesse's mouth is still slightly agape, his body jarring slightly as he jerks back into reality as if startled, eyes wide as ever. ]
Yeah, okay.
[ He nods, unable to take his eyes off of her until she disappears out of his sightline. The rest of the kitchen is still bustling, everyone too focused on what they're doing to pay much attention to what's happened between the two of them, and for once Jesse is relieved at being overlooked and given no mind.
Jesse honestly half-expects Jane to walk away and never be seen again. But his mouth goes dry when she returns, true to her word. This is all too real to be a dream, even a lucid one. Besides, most of his dreams these days are nightmares if he remembers them or sleeps long enough to even have one. He jerks when she touches his arm and he feels it like, really feels it. This isn't a dream. She's here. Her question echoes in his ears, a muffled sound barely heard over the ringing that crops up again. He feels faint, but somehow puts one foot in from of the other, going wherever Jane deems quiet enough to talk. There aren't may spaces inside of the casino that are private or quiet but his body instinctively knows to trust her, so he follows blindly.
Once they're alone, Jesse feels the nerves tying knots in his insides. ]
I dunno where to start. For one, how do I even know you're real? That I didn't just completely lose it?
[ He's a little shocked that he even said that out loud, but he has trouble with that sometimes these days, like he used to when he was young and carefree, but for a different reason now. ]
no subject
I could ask you the same thing. How do I know I'm not the crazy one here? You show up looking like shit warmed over and tell me I'm dead. Sounds pretty crazy to me.
[ Despite the challenging nature of her words though, Jane doesn't sound angry or upset. Her voice is still soft. She's not offended by his bluntness either, just shocked by... well, everything about him.
Impulsively, she reaches out to cup a hand to his face. She feels scar tissue and her eyes water. ]
no subject
I guess neither of us really know. But suddenly regaining consciousness here? At a casino I don't remember traveling to? It's not like that's normal, either.
[ He tries to ignore her comment about him looking like shit warmed over, a dull pain in his chest. Jesse makes it a point not to look into mirrors much these days, but he's caught enough glimpses to know those assholes did a number on him. So, when Jane lifts a hand to touch his face, he flinches at first before he leans into her touch. It isn't her--he just isn't used to being touched. Not unless it's violent. But he tries to hold himself together and forces his eyes to meet hers, his hand lifting to take the one that's on his face, holding it firmly in his instead. His knuckles are still bruised, and there are dark rings around both wrists where the shackles used to be. ]
Do you remember how you got here? Or what you were doing before this?
no subject
[ It's not a satisfying answer, but she knows he's right. Maybe he's hallucinating. Maybe she's dreaming. Who can say?
The way he flinches when she touches him hurts her soul. It feels like there's a knife twisting inside her heart. The sight of his hands, the rings around his wrists, don't make the sight any easier.
She wants to cry, but that wouldn't be fair to him. He's the one who went through it after all, not her. It wouldn't be right to force him to comfort her when the reason she's upset is because of whatever he went through. ]
I don't remember how I got here, no. [ She swallows and hesitates, looking a little bit ashamed of herself. ] The last thing I remember was, we got your money, we were talking about how we were going to leave, what we were going to do with it, and then...
I was here.
still uploading icons. sorry about the lack of variety.
[ March 4th, actually. He knows because that's the night that Jane died, and he'll never forget how it was a month away from her birthday. But he lets that thought stay silent within his head because the pained look on her face is enough. He never wanted to hurt her and that hasn't changed even if everything else had. ]
Last I remember it was...sometime in September 2010. So a year and a half. I'm a year and a half ahead of you.
[ Jesse winces at the dull headache thudding in his temples and behind his eyes, but he shakes it off because he's not the same as he was back when Jane knew him. He was softer then. Weaker. Sometimes it was a good thing. Jesse hears some commotion coming from the kitchen just down the hall, but that's how it always is, particularly during common meal times. He's a little grateful for the interruption because he doesn't know where to begin--how to fill Jane in on what's happened in that year and a half. ]
We should get back in there.
[ The lunch rush shouldn't last too much longer. Most patrons have been served and orders are coming in slower. But the front of the house is short-staffed enough to make Jane serve tables, so he knows that her absence, at least, is notable. ]
Maybe we can, uh, go have a cigarette or somethin' during shift change, though. Catch up a little?
Nooo, it's all good! Please don't worry.
They need to go back.]
Yeah.
[Her voice sounds thick, like something is caught in her throat. She's not crying, exactly, but she feels like... something is making it hard for her to speak.]
Yeah. A cigarette. Sure, Jesse. That sounds good.
[She turns to go back to the restaurant, but not without reaching for his hand to hold. If he'll let her.]
no subject
Jesse spends the rest of his shift in a fog, and it shows. A couple of his orders get sent back to the kitchen--he'd served the wrong side dish or forgotten a substitution request. Usually, Jesse's on point--able to keep up even under pressure, even when he's got four different pans on the stove, something in the oven, and the expeditor yelling out a new table's order. It's just the kind of chaos that he needs to crowd out the noise in his head.
But right now, the noise is just a little too loud, the thoughts a little too persistent. He pauses to look at the lined-up row of tickets, trying to get his head back in the game. He manages, just barely, to get his act together. At least enough to finish his shift on a good note--sufficient to keep management pleased with his performance. The last thing he needs is to get into any sort of trouble in this place. He's just trying to get by like everybody else.
At the end of his shift, Jesse clocks out and tosses his apron into the laundry bin with the others. He'll change out of his chef's uniform once he gets back to the dorms, but he's waiting for Jane out back, near the doors employees use to enter and exit the restaurant seamlessly. Like Disney, shift changes aren't made in view of the visitors. They try to keep the illusion alive and disallow any proverbial peeks behind the curtain. When Jane finally emerges, Jesse pushes off of the wall he'd been leaning against, wandering over. ]
You still up for that cigarette? There's that balcony off the staff common room. Or we could go to the casino but, uh, I'd have to change first.
[ Management doesn't like staff out and about in uniform unless they're working. ]
no subject
Balcony's good.
[Better, even. The casino is loud and noisy, with too many people. The balcony isn't exactly abandoned, but it's not as crowded. Jane wants to be somewhere quieter, somewhere away from the noise and the lights and the supposed good cheer. It's almost offensive right now, with the current mood she's in, and the mood Jesse's in too. She usually thinks it's kind of gaudy, kind of tacky, not her scene anyway, but it doesn't normally bother her this much.
It's not a normal kind of day, though.
As the assistant manager, Jane doesn't have a uniform, just a dress code. She's already discarded her apron and her nametag and while the clothes she's wearing aren't what she'd normally pick to wear by herself -- she's not exactly a "business casual" kind of girl -- they're not obviously a uniform.]
I mean, unless you wanna change first. Up to you.
[The small talk feels surreal, when there are so much more important things they both want to say. And yet she wants to cling to it, keep it going a little longer, as if the absurdity of it offers some comfort and protection. Keeps everything from feeling all too real.]
no subject
Okay, cool.
[ The casino is a little overwhelming for him from time to time. It sometimes leads him to feel overstimulated having gotten used to spending most of his time in the quiet and the dark with little to do or look at and nobody to interact with. It can be a little too much and yet, oftentimes, the noise and the lights and the people are so much of a distraction that he's able to quiet his own thoughts. Sometimes it's a good thing and other times not, which is why his best fit for employment is working odd jobs and filling in where he's needed. A change of scenery is helpful. ]
It's fine. I have a t-shirt on under this.
[ Jesse gestures to his crisp chef's jacket before he goes about unfastening the buttons, folding the whole thing neatly over his arm.
The small talk is surreal, but what isn't? He's talking to his dead(?) girlfriend(?) in the hallway of a casino he has no recollection of arriving at. There are so many unanswered questions that right now it feels safest not to ask any of them. To just act like this is all normal.
The balcony off of one of the staff break rooms isn't very crowded. It's just past shift change, so most people getting off shift are back in their pods or milling about the casino, the other half of staff settling into wherever they work. There aren't many hanging around the break areas anymore, so it's that kind of peace and quiet that Jane had been in search of. He shoulders the balcony door open and finds a spot to sit--a couple of chairs in one corner, a small table nestled between them. Jesse pats his pockets, fishing out a pack of smokes and a lighter, offering the box to Jane out of habit after he takes one out for himself, holding it between his lips.
He doesn't know what to say. Asking how she's been seems too lightweight for the heaviness of their reunion, but he doesn't exactly want to deep-dive into the horrors of what his life had been before ending up here, either. So he just looks at her, waiting for her to speak up like he's grown accustomed to. Speak when you're spoken to. He struggles to meet her eyes, conditioned to expect retaliation for doing so, but he tries his best. ]
I'm sorry. I'm, uh. I'm a little rusty at this.
[ He gestures, pointing back and forth between the two of them. What he means is that he's still getting used to small talk--to being social, but he doesn't clarify. Maybe it's meant a little about the two of them, too. It's been a while. A long time since he's set eyes on her. Longer since they've spoken. ]
no subject
She pushes that aside, though, and re-focuses solely on Jesse. When he meets her eyes, she smiles in a way that she hopes is encouraging. Slowly, very slowly, like she's trying not to spook a baby animal she wants to pet, Jane reaches out to gently rest a hand on his bicep, waiting for his reaction before she does anything else. She wants to hug him and just not let go, ever, but she feels like if she hugged him that might be too much for him right now. She sees the way it's like it's hard for him to meet her gaze.
She sucks in a breath, and it feels like it's not enough. She still feels dizzy and like she can't get enough air.]
Don't be sorry. Jesse...
[Her head pounds. The withdrawal makes her muscles ache from her toes, to her back, to her arms. And yet she still feels like that must pale in comparison to what he's gone through.]
What the hell did they do to you? Who did this? [Small talk just doesn't feel right to her, right now.]
no subject
For now, though, he has to try and focus because every time he looks at Jane for a little too long, the memories come flooding back and he's glad his hands are busy with lighting and smoking his cigarette because what he really wants to do is grab her and never let go again. But, to him, he hasn't seen her in over a year, and doing that seems a little extra after so long apart. He makes eye contact, though, and finally holds it when Jane takes hold of his bicep. He's a little more filled out these days--not quite the scrawny little shit she'd fallen in love with, though he's definitely malnourished at the moment. Thanks, Todd.
He swallows, fighting the urge to pull his arm back. Not because he doesn't want her touching him. God, he does. But for the last several months the only human touch he's experienced was violent. Rough. Violating. This...gentleness? It's nice. But unfamiliar, and a little overwhelming. He doesn't want her to let go, though, so he stays still, like a statue. ]
Walter--Mr. White--he got too greedy. Kept breaking promises that nobody else would get hurt. Wouldn't let me just cut my losses and get outta the game. I had to roll on him. His brother-in-law--that DEA guy? Caught him. Had the guy dead to rights but I guess Walter had this...posse backing him. Some neo-nazi motherfuckers. They killed the DEA agents and he sold me out. Was about to have 'em off me too but then this little sociopath fuck named Todd? Suggested they haul me away, find out what all I said to the cops and kill me after. They got his blessing and they got everything they wanted outta me 'cept they kept me there. Kept me in a cage. Some...hole in the ground. Made me cook for 'em 'cause they were too fuckin' stupid to figure out how to make shit anywhere near as good as what I turned out. I got out, though. Obviously. And somewheres after that I ended up wakin' up here.
[ It's a long story and Jesse's intentionally vague. Yeah, he can go into detail but he's not trying to risk having an episode or a panic attack or a fucking flashback in front of Jane or in public, even if there aren't that many people on the balcony or in their immediate vicinity. He shakes his head, scoffing bitterly before taking another drag off his cigarette. The whole thing sounds even more absurd aloud than it had in his head. His life over the past two years has been one horrifying tragedy after another to the point that it would be comical if it weren't so fucking terrible. He sucks in a breath, shifting the conversation as much as he knows she's going to have a thousand and one questions after everything he just told her. He can tell something's off with her, though it doesn't quite hit him that she might be withdrawing even though he's aware that she got here during their descent into active using. It just doesn't click for him immediately since he hasn't touched heroin in over a year himself. ]
You okay? You don't look so good.
[ He catches himself, eyes going wide. ]
I mean, not like that. You look awesome. Just. You under the weather or somethin'?
no subject
[She really can't think of anything else to say to that. What else is there to say, really? It's the kind of thing that defies any comment she could make. It's not like she can ask him if he's okay. Obviously he's not okay. Who would be, after going through something like that?
Her blood boils when she thinks about the kind of person who would consign Jesse -- or anyone, honestly, but especially someone as kind and gentle as Jesse was when she knew him -- to a fate like that.
She laughs when he says she doesn't look so good, and offers a jokey:] Gee, thanks. You really know how to flatter somebody.
[She's kidding, though. She shrugs and sighs.]
I'm fine. Withdrawals, you know? They're a bitch.
no subject
[ Jesse knows that hindsight is 20/20, though, and back when he'd been with Jane he hadn't been in the right headspace to turn on Mr. White like that. Not then. Even when he deserved it, it had only been finding out about him poisoning Brock that really caused Jesse to change his tune and to see Walter White for what he really was--a monster. The devil. An evil, selfish man willing to destroy anything and anybody that he thought was in his way, stepping on his toes, or otherwise threatening his status as a kingpin.
But the subject shifts and Jesse is thankful for Jane's joke, even if it's a little bit at his expense. HE lets out a hoarse laugh and blows smoke from the corner of his mouth, waving his hand a little so it doesn't linger around them. His expression softens, though, when Jane mentions withdrawals. ]
You okay? I can...I can maybe find somethin' that'll help.
[ He almost cuts himself off, speaking up quickly before she can respond. ]
Not that.
[ Not heroin. He wouldn't dream of encouraging her down that road. Not after knowing what happened to her the last time he stood by and allowed it to happen. She's a grown woman. He isn't going to stop her if that's what she wants to do, but he'll make sure she's safe and he'll be damned if he's the one who supplies it to her. ]
Just like...I dunno, maybe something for anxiety. Take the edge off.
[ He's been prescribed a few things by medical considering his health situation. Nothing too strong, but he's willing to share if anything he has can help her. ]
no subject
[She says that half-sarcastically. Who knows what would have happened if they'd gotten away like they planned. Maybe they would've just ended up overdosing and dying on their own within a few months anyway.
Or maybe they would've ended up getting clean and living happily in New Zealand.
Now they'll never know.
Jane swallows guiltily when he cuts her off before she can speak. Suddenly, she really doesn't want him to know she was trying to get heroin before.
She looks interested in what he's saying though.]
Take the edge off? Like what? [She takes a breath.] I don't...know if I should be taking anything. I'm not like you, Jesse.
[She can't keep control of herself while she's using like he can, even if it's not heroin.
She's curious despite herself, though.]
no subject
He's not here to dwell on the past. He didn't fight so hard to survive just so he could sulk about everything he's been through. Yeah, he's got more trauma than he ever asked for and he hasn't even begun working through it, but now's not the time. ]
Nothing, like, hard-core or anything. They gave me some sleeping pills and something for anxiety. Like Xanax. I...know it's maybe counter-productive, but if it keeps you from tryin' to find other shit, I'll take that as a win.
[ He searches Jane's face, trying to read her reaction. ]
Or I could just. I dunno. If you need some company, uh, a distraction or something?
[ Jesse takes another drag off of his cigarette, his hands shaking a little. He has a bit of a tremor sometimes--he hasn't quite figured out if it's nerve damage or a nervous tic. There's a lot he hasn't sorted out yet. He's just glad he's somewhere that feels safe, for now. He looks at Jane, a silent apology written on his face. He's not the best at knowing how to comfort someone going through it, but he's trying. He's had to harden that soft side of himself just to make it out alive, but it isn't gone. Just buried. ]
no subject
On the other hand, she's never tried Xanax. The idea that something could fill the void of heroin is appealing, but seems too good to be true.]
I don't...
[She looks to Jesse for reassurance. Maybe even guidance.]
I don't know. What do you think? [She takes in a shaky breath.] I mean, do you think it's a good idea? 'Cause I'm not really... like you. I can't control myself.
Like, full disclosure: I have some weed. I would've just stayed in bed all day smoking it if something didn't... make me come here.
no subject
He worries at his lower lip with his teeth before sucking in a breath, nodding to himself. Yeah, giving an addict drugs is never a good idea. ]
I think...offering you shit was a dumb idea and I think you should get rid of the weed if you think it's gonna lead to other shit.
[ Jesse flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, taking a last drag before he leans forward to crush it out in the ashtray on the nearby table. He doesn't lean back in his seat once he's done that, though, instead reaching for Jane's hand and squeezing it. ]
I'm here, y'know? I just--I hate seeing you feel shitty. But I know it won't last forever. I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but like...maybe the best course of action is to just bite the bullet and do this the hard way.
no subject
She sucks in air through her nose when he says she should do it the hard way.]
Yeah.
[It's impossible to keep the disappointment out of her voice entirely. But forces herself to look directly, and tries to smile. She pushes some hair back behind her ears.]
Yeah. You're right. It's, just... Hard, you know? To go cold turkey like that. [She pauses.]
I know it's selfish, but I'm glad you're here.
no subject
He winces a little bit at the disappointment in her voice. It's there, however slight, and it hurts, though her attempt at a smile lifts the heaviness from his heart ever so slightly. ]
Yeah. It's hard, I know. I got pretty bad on the stuff, but I went to rehab. Detoxing w as a real bitch. But, give it a few days and you'll start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You'll start feeling like your old self in like a week. And it's worth it. Doing it the hard way'll suck enough that that's what you'll think about next time you consider going back down that road.
[ Jesse offers Jane a sympathetic smile, takes her hand and just holds it, looking down at it for a few moments. ]
It's not selfish; not really. I mean, I was about to skip town when I got here anyway. Trying to start over someplace new. I guess this is as good a place as any. Fresh start.
no subject
[She says it almost absently. Softly.] It's not my first rodeo. I've done it enough times before. I know how it goes. Still sucks, though.
[But she appreciates his attempts at reassurance, and when she feels him holding her hand, she squeezes appreciatively. Her smile blossoms a little bit more. Just a little bit. When he looks down, her eyes follow his gaze.]
Yeah. [Her voice is almost dreamy.] Maybe for both of us. I've met people here who say they've been here for a few years already. Maybe... maybe for us that wouldn't be so bad. Stay here for a while. Figure things out.
[Does Jane resent the "you can't leave until you pay off your scam debt that you can't really pay off" thing? Kind of, in the sense that she resents any and all artificial restrictions of her movement and behavior.
But Jesse's on the run and Jane is, apparently, soon to be dead back home anywhere. Not like either of them have anywhere to be any time soon, so why not make the best of things here?]