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

[jacksonian]

[ It's valid. Mark rubs at his (second) chin, considering that. A more moral, conscientious man - the likes of Miles - would protest that the importance of saving lives over a deluxe experience. Mark is...very much not Miles. ]

We'll need lawyers on retainer. Rafts of lawyers. Good ones.

[hostage]

I got Jeff Winger on retainer already, but I'm up for hiring a team.

[Jesse is admittedly not all that familiar with the laws surrounding this kind of thing. (He misses Saul so much. So much.)]

[jacksonian]

[ A grunt. ]

You've met Americans, right? [ Right - he is one. ] They like to sue. And we're going to be dealing with one a week, easy. People who're suing because their whoever died after being turned away from the resort. That sort of thing.

[hostage]

[Jesse smiles and nods. In reality, he has no intention of turning anyone away. Sure, the rich ones will be the ones who get a room at the resort. But he'll find a way to get his blood to those who can't pay. He'll be layering in more than enough of his illegal funds to make up for it.]

Whatever you think's best.

[jacksonian]

[ He likes that answer. So he rubs his chin, asks - ]

How much of a stake are you proposing in return for my funds?

[hostage]

Fifteen percent.

[And that's extremely generous, in his opinion. It'll amount to more than his current launderers make. Significantly more.]

[jacksonian]

[ He thinks about that, even as his lips quirk up in an incredulous (calculated) smile. ]

For how much of an initial investment?

[hostage]

Ten million, which is a tiny fraction of what this business is gonna be worth in a year. Of course, if you'd rather make it a loan and work out interest instead of shares... You know. Whatever feels safe to you.

[jacksonian]

[ A loan? Instead of shares? Yeah, right. Nearly as much risk, much less potential reward. Still... ]

You'll understand, though, just how huge that investment is. My company's available funds aren't much more than that. If this were to fail, I'd be destitute.

[ Left with eight million, actually. But, still, it certainly wouldn't be great. ]

[hostage]

It won't fail.

[All the confidence of a man with ten million dollars in dirty cash sitting in a duffel bag at home right now.]

Fifteen's my offer for the full ten million. You're my first stop and I'm happy to keep shopping. I prefer working with imPorts, but... You know, I don't have to.

[jacksonian]

[ He leans back in his chair. ]

It's hard out there for imPorts looking for loans, you know. ImPorts have a habit of disappearing. Banks tend to be skittish.

[hostage]

Yeah, but my blood doesn't disappear with me. I got a product that still guarantees their money back and then some. I'm sure I'll find somebody.

[jacksonian]

[ He makes a noise of acknowledgment, then steeples his fingers. ]

How widely is it known that your blood is the crucial ingredient in this healing?

[hostage]

[With a vague wave at the air:]

A couple imPorts know, but it ain't something I share with the natives, on account of how I don't like the idea of somebody chasing me down and draining my blood to cure their sick grandma or whatever.

[jacksonian]

[ A nod. ]

But people know. And how does that saying go - two can keep a secret if one is dead...?

I have something that I can offer you that most investors can't.

[hostage]

Yeah? What's that?

[jacksonian]

An understanding of exactly what's needed to keep you safe.

[ He keeps his voice largely - largely - irony-free as he says: ]

You're probably not quite as savvy to the criminal underbelly of things as I am. But I know how criminals operate. I come from an entire planet of criminals. And so I know how to counteract them. The average investor stumbles around, blinded by their lack of experience; when crime happens, they're blindsided. But I can make sure that doesn't happen to you.

[ And then a lift of his eyebrows translates: I'll provide the cover for the illegal shit you're obviously going to be doing to help yourself. ]

[hostage]

[Jesse snorts with faint amusement, though the tone is appreciated. Yes, he knows what Mark's getting at, answering an unspoken question with an unspoken answer. That bodes well for their business.]

Twenty.

[jacksonian]

[ He drums his fingers on the table a moment. He could drive for twenty-five, probably. Probably. Get at least twenty-two out of him...Though frankly, twenty is good. Twenty is more than he was expected.

But, well - it feels positively unJacksonian not to Deal for a little bit more.

Though his little bit more is...rather unJacksonian. ]

Twenty, and - the fulfillment of a request that I have.

[hostage]

Which is..?

[jacksonian]

[ He goes a little quieter. He looks - shy. Embarrassed, a bit. ]

You, uh...know my clone-progenitor, right? Miles Vorkosigan.

[hostage]

Yeah, I know him.

[Not well, but that probably doesn't matter.]

What about him?

[jacksonian]

He, uh - He has a condition. Brittle bones. From a birth defect. I want you to figure out a way to make him better.

[hostage]

He was born that way?

[Jesse gnaws on his lower lip for a moment, considering it.]

I mean, I can't always guarantee it with stuff like that. Sometimes I can fix it, sometimes I can't. If there's pain, I can fix the pain. If he breaks a bone, I can fix the bone. But sometimes a body's just the way a body is.

My blood, though... Even if I can't fix him completely, he'll stay strong as long as he's taking it.

[jacksonian]

[ Mark shakes his head firmly. ]

It's not a genetic defect, though. It's teratogenic. Pre-birth damage from chemical exposure. His genes are fine - he's programmed genetically to be full-strength, full height.

[ Don't I know that far too well. ]

You can fix that, can't you?