nexus_crossings | The Greater (Drunken) Good

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The Greater (Drunken) Good

It's been some time since Jesse's had his own question for the Nexus. Maybe he's been avoiding it until the last vestiges of Reynard's winter have passed. That whole ordeal didn't do so well by him, after all.

Or maybe Jesse's just been busy? Busy drinking, apparently. He swaggers into the Nexus, a half-finished bottle of Jack Daniels held loosely by the neck in one dangling hand. Once he's found a good enough sofa to sit upon, the zed flops himself down like a ragdoll.

"What's the-..."

He pauses, looking like he's trying to stifle a burp. His eyes aren't really focusing properly. His cowboy hat is a little askew on his head.

"What's the worst thing y'all ever done. Ever done fer the-...Y'know, fer the greater good n' all that shit. Y'ever done somethin' real bad even if it were fer a good cause? Y'ever-...? Yeah. S'all."

He's drunk as hell.

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"Pig Farmers! They're another gang back home. Buncha, y'know. Fffuckin'...farmers with pigs. Trade with 'em for meat. 'Cept...Oh. Ohhh. Hahaha, y'all almost got it outta me, didn't ya? Sorry, Jim. Secret between gang leaders." He holds up his finger to his mouth and makes a slurred 'shhh' before winking.

The drunken smile he'd been wearing fades, though, at Jim's encouragement for him to spill. The cowboy looks like he's deliberating, but then looks around. "Ain't gonna say it here. Where God 'n man kin hear me, y'know? We gotta-...We gotta go someplace else."

"Okay.." Jim nods, already getting to his feet. He hauls Jesse to his feet, paying no mind to the physical contact. He knows Jesse appreciates him for it, so Jim does his best to initiate as much of the contact between them as he can.

"Wherever you want. I'm here for you man. You know that, right?"

Jesse was having a hard enough time walking and standing straight before they continued imbibing, so Jim is quick to throw the zed's arm around his shoulders so he can support the cowboy.

Jesse mumbles something in response to Jim's encouragement, allowing himself to be heavily hauled upright, but what he says his a slurred and muttered mess. Whatever it was, it had a distinctly pessimistic tone.

He leans into the other guy, arm flung around Jim's shoulders, stumbling to keep a normal walking pace. Now he just looks sorry for himself, heaving a hangdog sigh every few moments. "Y'ain't gonna like it. Y'ain't gonna like it one bit, Jim."

"Doesn't matter. I'm your friend. I'm here for you."

He'll piggyback the zed if he has to. Jim's not above carrying Jesse wherever it was they were going to go. He pauses after a minute or so, considering that if Jesse hasn't told anyone in his crew, taking him back to the Subway is not the best of ideas.

Instead he turns and heads toward a small dive bar he likes to frequent now and again. It certainly looks like the place deals are made and secrets passed between patrons like currency. There's a well dressed woman behind the bar, nearly out of place with how put together she is compared to the establishment. She gives her hips a bit of a shake as she shakes up a cocktail before depositing it into a martini glass with a bit of flair.

"What'll it be, gentlemen?" She regards Jesse with almost no lingering on him. a sure sign she's been in the Nexus for quite a while. Nothing seems to phase her.

"Two of the specials." Jim calls over his shoulder before helping Jesse into a seat at a secluded table in the corner of the dimly lit place.

"Two Stingers coming right up."

Jesse flops into his given seat like a sack of potatoes, but his sorry disposition and already severe state of drunkenness doesn't keep him from giving a tip of the hat to the lady behind the bar. It's only polite! After doing so, he slumps forward onto the table, resting his chin on one folded arm. He fiddles with a salt shaker, resting one finger on the top of it and tilting it one way and then the other, perhaps welcoming this little dumb distraction from how poorly he's feeling and what's making him that way.

"Here y'go." Jim sets the drink down in front of Jesse. It's not bourbon, but it's a damn fine cocktail nonetheless. Gin and some other stuff. Tastes crisp with a bit of bite to it.

Jim slides into the seat across from Jesse and raises his glass.

"Can't beat a free drink, right?"

"Nope! Sure as shootin' can't." He sits up enough to properly drink without wasting or sloshing it on himself and then belts it all down in one go. Once the glass is drained, Jesse bangs it down onto the table and is already raising his finger for another.

The zed gives a mock-conspiratorial side eye to Jim and mutters, "This place don't cut ya off ferrr pre-gamin', do they? Or shhhould I be actin' a bit more sober than I am?" He follows up with a wink.

There's a chuckle from over at the bar but the proprietress seems more than happy to get another started in her cocktail shaker. More at Jesse's actions than his words. They're safe from most prying ears here.

"You know I'll share a drink with you any day Jesse, but.." Jim clears his throat and peers over the glass at the zed. "You said you wanted someplace quiet. So..." He gestures around. "This is quiet. Private.'

Jesse nods, before he really realizes what Jim is saying. Gradually, it sinks in, though, and the smile fades and the nodding ends. "Right. I was gonna-...Y'all don't really wanna know, do ya? I mean-...It's bad. It's real bad, Jimmy."

His chin comes back down onto his forearm, staring blankly at a placard that has the bar's specials. The cowboy flicks idly at it with one fingernail. "Guy here in the Nexus. Ain't sayin' names. Don't gotta-...No one's gotta come down on him fer this. He ain't to blame. He didn't enable it none. But he can fix up the dead, right? I mean, he's got some kinda power that lets him mend us up! Like we can proper heal kinda. An-An-And I done and-...I gotta-...He can fix people missin' parts. But he gotta-...He gotta get parts first."

"You know I'm here for you." Jim nurses his drink while he listens. He's quiet for several moments, though he relaxes slightly when Jesse starts to speak. He'd been beginning to think the other wouldn't confide in him after all.

"...Oh." Can't fix what isn't there. So... "You you're obtaining organs. That's no different form what the living do, right? Organ donors? I expect you're getting them from the departed. Again, like lots of living people do."

He wants to stress that he understands. Jim knows that Jesse is talking about desecrating graves. Or thinks that's where this is going.

"I think helping the living--ANY kind of living. Would be something most decent folks would be okay with, if they could voice an opinion."

"Hah, yeah but! But like-...Lissen." He sits up a bit, though still leaning heavily on the table. He holds out a hand, as if trying to make sure he's got Jim's attention, even if his own eyes keep losing their focus.

"Gangs, right. S'gangs. There'sssgangs. Back home. All'o them gotta-...They pick up certain types, right. I ever tell y'all about 'em? Last Judgement's a buncha cocksuckers, first o'all. Don't get me started on 'em. Ffffuckin' Father O'Grady. Fuckin'...motorcycles."

Wait, but that wasn't the point he was trying to make. He just started thinking about how much he dislikes this particular gang when gangs came up. Okay, focus. Where was Jesse going with this. He has to stare up at the ceiling fan for a bit before he finds his train of thought again, whipping his eyes back to Jim. RIGHT.

"So. Hah, so lissen. There's a gang. A whole damn gang, big 'nuff that we gotta respect 'em as a gang. S'crazy. But they're a thing. St. Michaels they're called. Wanna know why? Where they got the name?"

He waits, almost as if he's expecting Jim to ask for the reason, biting his lower lip to tame a silly smile on his face. He giggles before he just blurts it out.

"S'a kids school! S'the name of a-...S'a school, Jimmy! St. Michael's School Fer Wayward Boys! Y'get it? Y'get it yet?!"

"What about the gangs?" Jim is struggling to keep up with what Jesse is talking about. Is that where they're getting the parts from? Other zed? He's really not sure at all how the cowpoke's world works in the least.

Probably for the best, really. But right now he feels rather lost.

"So...the parts are coming from a gang of...kid zed?" He tilts his head to the side. "Sorry, you lost me for a minute there."

"Naw, naw. WE take in any zed. Kids too. I got-...I got a couple of 'em. I got one named Julie. Poor Julie. She ain't got-...She ain't got no face. No tongue. N-No nose. S'just all gone. All bone. She done scratched it off when her mommy 'n daddy left her behind. I-..." He trails off again, eyes getting distant once more.

"...I wanna-...Julie's the first I wanna fix up. She deserves it most. But I gotta get parts. I gotta get small parts. Kid-sized parts. I gotta-..." Jesse stops again, rubbing the heel of one hand against an eye. He hiccups, but it's not so much from the drinking as it is his breath catching from emotion.

"Set up a s-ssscout to watch St. Michael's base. Waited until they hadda bring out one of their own and put 'em in the ground. An' then last night, I snuck out, and I-...Just thought I'd take the face an' the tongue cuz that's what she needs most. But what if we need more down the line? What about the other kids I got? One needs fingers an' another one ain't got an eye. An' what about organs? What if we find a cure but we gotta replace inside bits what rotted or fell out? I-..."

Jesse's voice catches again and he covers his face with both hands, his fingers trembling.

Oh.

Jim feels the other shoe drop. Has to set his glass down. Blink a few times rapidly as the truth of the matter settles over him.

"That's where you got the corpses from." Fresh ones, without bits that were rotted away. So that they can store them maybe? For when they're needed. It makes sense, but god how gruesome a necessity it is.

"You didn't kill those kids, Jesse." Jim tries again. Pressing because now he understands. "They're gone already. It's...I still think it's the right thing to do." As much of a right thing there is in such a horrible situation to be put in. "You're helping kids that are still alive. Even if they don't wanna be. Make their lives better."

"Robbin' graves ain't right! You put people in the ground and they're supposed to stay there! S'why the zed are as bad as they are! It's goin' against the whole-...The fuggin' natural order of things! And here I am, ffffuckin'sneakin' around in the night, diggin' up dead lil' boys, not even a whole 24 hours dead, and I'm hackin' 'em up and puttin' the parts into tubs an'-...Fuck. Y'ever-...Y'ever just really get a clear sign one day that you know, when it's all done 'n over, yer goin' to hell? I mean it. Ain't stuff y'can fergive, Jim. Ain't nothin' can fergive this."

"Jesse."

Jim would agree. He really would. What the zed is describing is something Jim would be beside himself with, if it had been Pike. Any one of his crew. Jim knows how bad it is. He really does. But he's also met Daisy. He's seen the struggles these folks are going through. And they have a child. A child.

"I can tell you right now. If I died today? I'd want you to take every bit of me and help out your folks. You've got a kid that never asked to be that way. I know none of you did but. A Kid, Jesse. I can't...you gotta do whatever you can for them, right? I can't...I'd be a goddamn hypocrite to get mad about that."

He pushes his glass away and leans over the table.

"It's a shit situation to be in. It's the worst. And I get that. But if anyone would send you to hell for helping out an innocent kid, I'd be happy to go."

Who knows if it's the outrageous amounts he's already been drinking. Or the lack of sleep (not that he REALLY needs it, but it helps your brain run a little smoother, he's found) for the past week or so. Or the general strain and hardship of this situation, his acts, his choices. Or the supreme kindness, the literal selflessness, of Jim's offer.

Which one of these being the factor for Jesse just slumping onto the table and tearlessly sobbing behind one hand, it's hard to say. One or all. But here he is, leader of the Rotten, crying as hard as someone who can't even shed tears anymore can.

Jim's moving around the table almost immediately. Throwing an arm around Jesse's shoulder and pulling him close to Jim's chest. Fuck whatever disease, curse, or whatever made Jesse this way. Sometimes you just need someone to touch you. Tell you it's okay. Be supportive. And Jim can do that.

"I got ya, Jesse." The captain's voice is quiet and calm, even if his eyes are wet, too. He knows how to keep under control and be strong for others. He knows Jesse has that burden too. All the more reason he's going to do everything he can to be there for the cowboy when he allows Jim to see him in this moment of weakness.

"Better to die saving lives than to live taking them, right? I can't say if you're doing the right thing or not. No one can. But you're doing right by that little girl. By your gang. I know....I'd do the same for my crew."

Jesse is momentarily surprised at the contact, at being gathered against someone else, living or not. And then he slumps his weight against that instead, trying hard to get his breathing even and failing a lot. Instead, it just ends up held for unnaturally long and then finally breaking out into a fresh sob.

This repeats several times before Jesse can finally start feeling like he's calming down. The dam broke and what was behind it rushed out, but it's down to just a trickle now.

"Fuck...Yer swell, y'know that? Damn fine-...Damn good leader. An' friend. Shit, Jimmy."

The captain doesn't say anything for several long moments, fingers digging into the worn leather of the zed's coat. He does reach up to keep Jesse's hat from tumbling right off his head though. It's the only motion he makes that isn't holding his friend close until Jesse's got himself under control.

"Don't tell anyone, I've got a reputation as an ego driven asshole to keep." His voice shakes just slightly with the effort of containing everything that threatens to spill out. His lips twitch into a weak smile, one that understands the breakdown Jesse had just now better than most could. Being a leader himself, he knows all too well the walls that need to be kept up for the good of your peers' moral.

"I"m not gonna ask if you're okay because I'm not an idiot, but." Jim lets out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding slowly, the sure confident lines of his shoulders sagging with the exhale. "Better? I hope. Even a little?"

"Y-Yeah." Jesse wipes at his eyes, an ingrained habit from his human days, despite there having been no tears during the whole breakdown. "Yeah, I feel...I dunno. I feel drunk as a SKUNK. Hah. I gotta-....I gotta learn to deal with this stuff without the sauce. Prolly. I guess. Maybe."

"First you gotta deal, then we'll work on easing the sauce out of the equation."

Jim gives a knowing smile there. Jesse isn't the only one who drowns his sorrows in booze. Plenty of the living to that too. Jim included. As if he could fault the zed that in the slightest. He'd be throwing rocks form his glass house.

"I'm glad you told me." Even if it was awful. Because it means Jesse trusts him. "Tell you what. We both sober up and then we'll get that little girl a nice dress or something, put you in a happier place."

"Shoooot. She'd love that. That an' stuffed animals. Soft dolls. Whatever. Got all sortsa names for the things. An' she's gonna be able to talk again! I gotta-...Jus' gotta focus on the good, right? Jus' gotta keep my eye on the good comin' outta all this bad. Cuz it is good. I'll do everything short o' spittin' in Jesus' eye to make my people happy."

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The Greater (Drunken) Good

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Sorry I made you wait work has swallowed me up!

YOU'RE FINE we're all busy bees

Getting to use new movie quotes woot wooooo!

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