Quiet dog bite hard, my god.

[hostage]

WHO: Jesse Pinkman & Daryl Dixon
WHERE: Streets of De Chima
WHEN: August 21
WHAT: Daryl makes a new friend.
WARNINGS: Violence imminent.

[De Chima isn't Jesse's usual scene. He's only in town for a distribution meeting, but there's an hour to kill before he has to be anywhere in particular and it's a beautiful day, so he ends up taking a walk through the city park. Cigarette between his lips, eyes on the sky, he's mostly in his own world until the cheerful jingle-jangle of an approaching dog collar draws his attention back down to Earth. Greeting a dog is in unstoppable instinct for him, and he tosses his cigarette away as a courtesy before bending to scratch the pup behind the ears.]

Hey, buddy!

[No such greeting for the owner (or whoever's holding that leash), at least not yet. The dog's leaping with excitement, tail wagging so hard he can barely control his legs, demanding Jesse's full attention here.]

Comments

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl almost rolled his eyes as the dog stopped for yet another random person to pet him. Of all the (three) dogs he'd taken out, this one was the friendliest. He let out a huff, not really mad at the other person - or the dog - just annoyed in general.]

You like 'im that much, you can adopt 'im.

[Daryl wiggled the leash, trying to get the dog to disengage and come back to him. And failing miserably.

He was not really the kind of person one might picture walking a dog through a park. More the kind one might picture with a rifle hunting duck, dog crouched at his feet and off-leash, ready to retrieve the kill.]

[hostage]

[That voice is familiar enough that Jesse's attention is finally drawn up to the guy, but he can't immediately place it. Not out of all the imPorts on the network. Jesse gives a little laugh and shakes his head.]

Wish I could, but - Ain't a good idea for an imPort to go adopting pets. Disappear any second, dog ends up locked in your house and...

[Well, he doesn't need to spell it out explicitly. Jesse gives the dog another scritch behind the ears.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl hadn't thought about that, but he was pretty sure that if Carl ported out, the shelter would take the dog back.]

Think the shelter's got a policy about watchin' for dePorts and getting the animal back and safe. De Chima one, anyway. Ain't sure about the other ones.

[He shifted his weight and tried swishing the leash again. Still no dice. Dog was really trying to milk that attention.]

Could probably ask 'em to do that for you.

[hostage]

[Jesse is so happy to keep petting this dog for as long as this guy's willing to tolerate standing here.]

Yeah? I didn't know they did that. That's awesome, man. I'll think about it.

[Though Jesse's honestly less likely to be dePorted and more likely to be murdered.]

You're an imPort, too, right? Feel like I seen you around.

[dirtyredneck]

Sure.

[Daryl tugged a little harder on the dog's leash, finally getting his attention enough for him to turn and smile a big doggie smile up at Daryl. And then promptly turn back around and continue his slobbering kisses on the other guy.]

Yeah. Probably. Some assholes' been doing their best to make money offa me without askin'.

[At least he managed to shut the toy thing down fast.

With the dog not cooperating at all, Daryl huffed and crossed his arms, frowning down at the mutt.]

Name's Daryl. Dixon.

[hostage]

[Jesse laughs when the dog lands a slobbery kiss on him, momentarily distracted by whatever he was going to say next. The name Daryl Dixon only sounds vaguely familiar to him. Probably the aforementioned marketing problem.]

I'm - Sorry, ha.

[He straightens up and frees himself from the dog's affections just long enough to introduce himself:]

Jesse Pinkman.

[dirtyredneck]

[Any hints of a smile Daryl had started to have dropped away as he froze for a moment, staring. This was not the kind of face he'd pictured when Carl had talked about the man. Or when Rick had brought him up, however briefly.

It took barely a second for Daryl to drop his arms, square his shoulders, let the leash fall to the ground, and reach back to draw his pistol from the holster at the small of his back. It was up and the safety off, his finger on the trigger but not yet pulled.]

[hostage]

[And just like that, Jesse remembers why Daryl Dixon is so damn familiar.]

Okay -

[Hands up, no sudden moves. Poor dog's so damn startled by this change of atmosphere. A short, nervous laugh escapes Jesse. Maybe he's trying to reassure the puppy.]

You sure about this? There's people everywhere.

[dirtyredneck]

[The only reason Daryl hadn't pulled the trigger yet, really. He didn't want to go to jail again. He'd already had one more visit than he'd ever had back home, back before.

He huffed out another breath and slowly lowered his gun. Eyes staying on Jesse. Watching his every move. It took a few more moments, but Daryl got it holstered again.

Then he took two steps forward and swung. Beating Jesse's face in would be a lot more satisfying than just shooting him.]

[hostage]

[Jesse has about five seconds to enjoy some relief before Daryl's fist connects with his face. He flies backwards and falls flat on his ass, blinded by stars. It's fair, of course. He deserved that. But he's not exactly eager for more.]

Dude, come on...

[dirtyredneck]

I should kill you for what you done!

[Daryl yelled at him, moving around Jesse's side and pulling back a leg to kick him hard. The dog on the leash kept him from climbing on top of him and holding him down. Already it was whining and making worried noises, running around his legs and wrapping the leash enough that Daryl had to spin to keep from being tangled.]

Wouldn't matter, would it? You'd just come back, right? 'No harm done'. Same as with Rick, right? No. Harm. Fucking. Done.

[Daryl did his best to land a kick with each of the last four words, but only managed to land one because of the dog. And Daryl wasn't about to yell at the dog.]

[hostage]

Nn..!

[Not exactly, he means to say. There are a few key important differences between Jesse's power to resurrect the dead and the revival granted to them by the nanites. But seeing as Daryl's not going to let him get a word in edgewise, demonstration might be the only way to get that across.

As soon as the dog gives him an opening, Jesse rolls out of Daryl's reach and staggers to his feet. With the wind knocked out of him, he's still coughing too much to say a word. All he can do is throw his hands in the air, a vague signal that he doesn't want to do this. Honestly, he doesn't.

Of course, that doesn't stop him. He activates his power and begins to transfer each blow back onto Daryl: the residual stinging of that punch to the face, the burning in his lungs, the bruises forming along his ribs. He gives that pain back just to prove that this is futile. Jesse's effectively invincible. This isn't a fight Daryl wants to have - for his own sake.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl barely notices the sting of the punch. Not on a conscious level. His arm comes up to swipe across his face as if the'd just been hit, but there wasn't enough lingering pain to get his attention as Jesse gets up and is acting like he's surrendering.

He moves to start pacing, to keep the dog from tripping him up while he figures out where he wants to hit next. It was then than pain blossomed in his side. He stumbled and had to stop short. Breathing heavy. Just able to handle it better than Jesse had.

Not yet aware of what was going on, only that he was being hurt without the asshole touching him, Daryl lunged forward with another kick ready. This one literally going for Jesse's ass to knock him down again.]

[hostage]

[And Jesse goes down again, easily. He lands hard, too. Without his hands prepared to break his fall, his chin collides with the pavement, splitting open, and he ends up biting his tongue so his mouth instantly fills with blood. It hurts like hell for all of two seconds.

And then he gives that, too, back to Daryl.]

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl was satisfied with what looked like a bloody and split lip from where he was standing. For all of a second. He let out a pained grunt as pain exploded in his mouth and blood started spilling out.

It wasn't the first time he'd had his tongue split open in a fight. But it was the first time it'd happened without anyone landing a blow on him. By technicality, he knew how to keep it from being a problem. Both hands came up and he started coughing the blood into them, leaning forward and hunching over so his mouth could drain enough that he could stare at Jesse in muted horror and ask:]

'the hell you do to me?

[It was only a little garbled from the injury to his tongue and the blood that came with it.]

[hostage]

[Jesse spits out what blood remains in his now-healed mouth and rolls back onto his feet. An easy task, at this point, without all those sore muscles. He wipes at his lips as he turns back to Daryl, not even out of breath anymore.]

It's, uh, what you did to me. Actually. Look, we could keep doing this all day if it makes you feel better, but you're just hitting a voodoo doll over here. Like punching yourself in the face. So, like, seriously: You done?

[dirtyredneck]

[Daryl pulled his gun again, more to make sure Jesse kept his distance than anything else. For all he knew, the guy could break his arm before he'd get a shot fired off.]

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

[He was not quite understanding what Jesse was saying. Still in the process of processing it.]

[hostage]

[Jesse heaves a sigh and throws his hands in the air again, lacing them behind his head.]

See, now that's the worst idea. You shoot me in the face, you're just gonna blow your own head off. You get it? Anything you do to me, you're just doing to yourself.

[dirtyredneck]

I could hit you between the eyes and you wouldn't have time to do shit for your brains hit the sidewalk.

[He said it with confidence (and a bit of a slur) but he still hadn't pulled the trigger. He wasn't sure his assessment was true. But hell, you take out the brain and nothing can function. Worked for walkers and people alike.

...right?]

[hostage]

I don't have to do anything. It just happens.

[Jesse's bluffing, of course. But he's betting on that being a hell of a risk for Daryl to take. Jesse's the one with nothing to lose.]

[dirtyredneck]

[It just happens. But it didn't happen right away. There was a delay at first. Until the damage started ramping up. Which meant the more damage, the faster it happened.

Daryl sucked in a shuddered breath, still bleeding from the mouth, though the flood had started to get sluggish. Like the cut was short and shallow, not deep. As if he'd bit into his own tongue.

Another breath before he lowered his gun again, still staring at the man. Shoulders a lot tighter.]

That what happened with Rick? He shoot you and it just go back to him?

[hostage]

[Jesse keeps his hands in the air, though he retreats a step.]

You never saw the report?

[So Daryl's going by Carl's account, most likely. Carl, who wasn't even there.]

It was different with Rick. He was using his shield, protecting LACKEY. We warned him to move. He wouldn't. So I used a Russian for my transfer. Shot that guy and killed Rick.

About eight minutes later, I flipped it back. Once we were done with our mission.

[dirtyredneck]

You did do it on purpose, then. It didn't 'just happen'.

[And the gun was back up. He didn't care about the details. It was their group against the world and any internal strife they could deal with on their own, in private. In public, it was a united front. End of story.]

[hostage]

That machine had the power to kill every single one of us - including Carl, by the way - and Rick was the one keeping us from shutting it down. We had Russians closing in on us and about five minutes to stop it before they stopped us. So yeah, I did it on purpose.

[And without so much as a gesture, he lifts all the wounds he'd just transferred to Daryl and takes them back upon himself.]

Then I un-did it. Your boy Rick didn't feel nothing.

[dirtyredneck]

HE DIED!

[Daryl crossed the space between them, grabbed the front of Jesse's shirt and put the gun to his temple for emphasis as he yelled those words.

Let it sink in. It didn't matter if he he 'felt nothing'. Rick had died.

Daryl sucked in a deep shuttering breath, entire body shaking with the anger and pain. He stared into Jesse's eyes, gaze locked, wanting to force the man to look away first. To admit his fault in a death that should never have happened.

In a more controlled and quiet tone laced with rage and promising a lot more hurt, Daryl repeated himself.]

He died.

[The fact that he'd just had all physical pains taken from him was noted, but not paid enough mind. He would have done the same with or without them. Probably with a lot more shaking that he already was, though]

[hostage]

[Jesse holds Daryl's gaze. He's had a gun to his head hundreds of times, and if this is the one time it finally goes off, that doesn't mean much to him. A horror for any passersby and a whole lot of trouble for Daryl, but Jesse's living a nightmare either way. That shot could send him straight home and it would still all be the same damn thing to him.]

Yeah. I killed him.

[dirtyredneck]

You dying? You deserve that. And if you'd stay dead, I'd do it.

[Daryl's shaking became more apparent and he had to drop the gun or risk it going off before he made that choice. But he kept them pressed up against each other, his forehead now pressing into Jesse's. Eyes keeping that contact. Still trying to force Jesse to break first.]

You stay away from my people, understand? If you don't, I will kill you. And when you come back, I'll find you, and kill you again. And I'll keep doing it until one of us gets sent back to the shitholes we came from and can't do it no more.

[hostage]

[He won't. He won't break first. Jesse isn't shaking. He's still and calm and ready for whatever Daryl wants to do to him. If there's one thing he can sympathize with, it's that vengeful bloodthirst being directed at him right now.]

Yeah. I got it.

[dirtyredneck]

[He still hadn't looked away. Had more backbone that Daryl had given him credit for. Maybe because he knew the rules in this world were fucked up and he'd come back. Maybe he just didn't care. It left Daryl unsatisfied, but Jesse had acknowledged his ultimatum. He'd agreed to it. He understood the way it was.

Daryl pushed him back none-too-kindly, releasing his shirt to make sure there'd be some distance between them. He continued his stare while he pulled the red kerchief that haunted his back pocket out to wipe the blood from his face, off his hands.

He only finally broke contact as he backed away, whistled at the dog to get it's attention and make it listen while he tugged on the leash. He turned around at fifteen paces and yelled behind him.]

And stay away from the shelters, too! Those are mine!

[He was feeling petty.]

[hostage]

[Jesse stumbles back when he's shoved and it takes him a moment to find his footing, but then he holds steady. Blood trickling down his chin again, he keeps on watching Daryl, looking like a half-feral animal himself. It doesn't take Jesse long to regenerate from such minor wounds, and by the time Daryl calls back to him, Jesse could easily chase him down and continue the fight. If he was someone who could be easily goaded - which he isn't.

Instead, Jesse takes a step back and wipes his chin with his sleeve. He's going to have to hurry if he wants to buy some new clothes before this meeting. Can't show up looking like some bitch just kicked his ass.]