Too low to dig, I might just touch hell.

[hostage]

WHO: Jesse Pinkman & OPEN
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout September
WHAT: Average day-to-day encounters with Jesse.
WARNINGS: Language, drugs, gore, body horror...

HEROPA - THE PARK ( OPEN )

[Coming off a healing tour of the local hospital's ICU, Jesse heads straight for the park across the street and settles himself on the grass beneath the shade of a willow tree. He's a mess - as he always is after a long round of healing the sick and injured - and doubly so since he's dressed in his rattiest torn jeans and dirty t-shirt combo. He self-reports as homeless on his paperwork, and today he looks the part.

Hands wrapped in gauze from fingertips to shoulder, there's not much Jesse can do while he waits to regenerate. He sprawls out on the grass and stares skyward. Bleeding through his bandages, he probably makes an alarming sight. But he's not unconscious. Just resting.]

NONAH - BEER GARDEN ( OPEN )

[Fresh out of a business meeting with some of his more respectable contacts, Jesse's looking remarkably clean-cut tonight. He's not in a suit, but with his pressed denim jacket and neatly styled hair, he fits in with the young professionals around him. He's not a regular here. He just looks like he could be.

Since he's dining alone, he takes a seat at a communal table around a fire pit and orders one of the fancy overpriced pizzas off the menu, along with the special craft beer the waiter kept pushing on him. His mind isn't really on dinner. He pulls a notepad from his pocket and starts crunching numbers with abstract notes. A few things to jot down before he forgets.]

MAURTIA FALLS - THE STREETS ( OPEN )

[It's the kind of night he used to love. Bass thumping in the club, throngs of revelers bumping and grinding around him, beautiful girls snorting rails off the bar... Nowadays it's overstimulating, and if Jesse could get a headache, he'd have one. Instead the pressure's more discarnate, less tangible, like the air's too heavy. After a few hours, he's having trouble maintaining the necessary smile and the social lubricant of easy conversation. People look to him for charm and entertainment, and when he can't give that to them anymore, that's when it's time to excuse himself.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Jesse swipes a hand across his sweaty forehead before lighting up a cigarette. It's better out here, with the music and shouting muffled behind him. When he exhales, a sigh of relief escapes with the smoke.]

DE CHIMA - THE OFFICES OF PKE ( CLOSED TO MARK VORKOSIGAN )

[Jesse's about five minutes early for their scheduled appointment. The last time they sat down together was in a grimy dive bar, and Mark was going by a different name. This time around, the setting's more professional and so is Jesse. He may not be wearing a tie or carrying a briefcase, but he fits the part of an upstart entrepreneur. He's flying under the radar. That's the whole point of this.

When he's called in, Jesse walks into Mark's office with a notebook tucked under one arm. He smiles as he approaches Mark's desk, offering his free hand.]

Hey. Thanks for seeing me.

Comments

[hostage]

[When Erik returns, Jesse gives that gauze a helpless look before directing his eyes to Erik. He holds up his useless hands, just as bandaged as the rest of his arms.]

I can't do it.

[incogneto]

...Fine. Sit up.

[ And Erik will meet him halfway, crouching down towards the ground. Honestly.

They do have a hospital for these things. ]

[hostage]

[Jesse's perfectly content to just wait until his regeneration is complete, but if it bothers Erik so much...

Well. At least Jesse can add this to the Top 10 list of most surreal moments he's experienced in his life. He sits up and holds his arms out for Erik.]

You really don't have to...

[incogneto]

I know.

[ But he sets to quick work, discarding the old bandages and putting on some ointment he also bought, dressing him with new ones. Twenty years ago, he probably would've just walked past. But now... he's even got a gentle touch, and has a much-improved bedside manner. Virtues of fatherhood, probably. ]

[hostage]

[Yeah, it all does feel... uncomfortably fatherly. Jesse isn't often cared for by Good Samaritans. Or anyone else he doesn't pay to be there for him. He's quiet for the better part of a few minutes, watching Erik patch up his raw, half-healed skin.]

You do this a lot?

[incogneto]

[ He grins. ]

Mostly for myself.

[ But occasionally for actual children who get scrapes and call him dad... ]

Try not to bleed through those.

[hostage]

[Jesse's lips twitch into a lopsided smile. Magneto fixed his arms! And gave him a lecture! He's so charmed right now. Life is super weird.]

I'm probably done bleeding. Mostly. I'll do my best.

[incogneto]

[ As long as he stays this way-- patched up, out of too much trouble-- he can be charmed as he wishes. ]

You'll do better than your best.

[ And then, he stands up. ]

Keep the bandages. You'll probably need them.