Whoever's in the Brew when she walks in might not realize it, but her heart is still pounding hard. She's been in enough bad situations to keep her cool, and when she picks an empty table and sits down at it, she hopes she just looks distracted, not completely freaked out.
She scrolls through the communicator rapidly. Edward had mentioned the network, and when she goes back, she finds his post. She's a little too disturbed by the mere sight of him to listen to much of what he's saying. She knows she's fucked this one up badly, and for once, she doesn't feel like she's being disingenuous when she makes excuses for it... but she still made a mistake.
Anyone from her world could have made that mistake. Ellie might just do it too, a couple days, even a week from now. Who wouldn't shoot? She was generous enough to just go for the knee.
More disturbing to her: he's a warden. There's no way on earth he's not going to tell someone, and Larry's enough of a bootlicker that he'll say something when he figures it out. That's what that blue thing was, right? Larry's thing?
She swears she's going to lose enamel off her teeth, clenching her jaw like this.
The whole situation is fucked. She feels mangled, inside and out. Fucking Infected. She navigates away from Edward's post before she starts to feel nauseous. She goes right to Arthur's inbox, away again to Tiffany's, away once more to Larry's. She contemplates Misty and Jake and Butcher, and then goes right back to Arthur's. There's no avoiding this. No one else is going to get it and it's coming out no matter what.
He's never turned her down, not even when she'd gotten into it with Yunlan in his cabin - he'd helped her, told her he was angry, and then left. He's always tried to be empathetic.
He's doubly so more now. The moment he hears her voice he goes still, puts his cigarette down, and replies:
"Lemme come to you. Where are you?" His voice is soft, gentle, but firm. Let her rest herself in his hands for a moment.
She lets out a long breath, raking her hand through her hair.
"Inmate bathrooms," she replies. It's close enough. She can step out before he gets close. She drops her voice a little: "There's some guy on the barge who looks like an Infected. I shot him."
"No, I put it in his knee," she replies, hefting her backpack over her shoulder and heading out of the Brew, emerging from the mirror on the other side. She glances outside of the bathroom but stays inside, leaning against the wall. "Larry showed up and I booked it."
"So he ain't dead, and Larry saw you, but neither have come after you.
Larry's gonna take him to the infirmary, and I'm gonna come pick you up.
Alright?"
“Yeah, I found that after,” she replies. “He looks so close. In the early stages, Infected look so much like that, the fucked up eyes, the skin... they don’t start getting big fronds until a year or two.”
It occurs to her that she’s never shown one to Arthur, but it’s fine. She knows what she’s talking about.
"No kidding." She figures if she ever meets the Admiral, it's on sight. "He looks disgusting, even if didn't get worse, I'd rather get shot than look like that."
"Well, now he's both shot and ugly as hell," Arthur says,
pragmatically. It's likely not very nice of them to say all of this; he
doesn't give a shit. She's upset, so it's warranted.
"Listen closely and you'll hear me," he says, speaking a little louder for a moment before he hangs up and walks up the stairs. He walks right to her and puts a big, warm hand on the back of her head.
"Spa sounds good," she replies. She's barely in there herself, and it's probably one of the last places anyone would check, other than the Brew. "You can get a haircut."
She means it to be teasing, but it comes out a little flat anyway.
He puts his arm around her shoulders as they walk. She could use the
support, but he also wants to discourage people from talking to them, and
two friends who look like they've got something going on are less likely to
be bothered.
"Couple minutes more, then you can let go, alright? Just hold on."
"I did Joel's hair just fine, thanks," she replies, but she's perfectly fine with settling against his arm, eyes low. She wants to believe it'd take more than a gunshot wound to get the barge mobilized on anything, but who knows?
"I seen that guy, and I seen what I look like after I visit a real barber,"
he points out, easily bantering with her to keep her at least somewhat
occupied. "I'm gonna leave it to the professionals."
"That's fine by me, as long as someone keeps you from looking like you live in a cave," she replies, but she appreciates it. Keeps her from wanting to just run, even if there's really nowhere to run.
"That is so colossally fucked up," Tess replies. Cannibals. Exactly what she imagines to be living out there, anyway. "You could not pay me enough to live in a cave."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
momijizukamori
slowly turns his inbox into HR Dept
She scrolls through the communicator rapidly. Edward had mentioned the network, and when she goes back, she finds his post. She's a little too disturbed by the mere sight of him to listen to much of what he's saying. She knows she's fucked this one up badly, and for once, she doesn't feel like she's being disingenuous when she makes excuses for it... but she still made a mistake.
Anyone from her world could have made that mistake. Ellie might just do it too, a couple days, even a week from now. Who wouldn't shoot? She was generous enough to just go for the knee.
More disturbing to her: he's a warden. There's no way on earth he's not going to tell someone, and Larry's enough of a bootlicker that he'll say something when he figures it out. That's what that blue thing was, right? Larry's thing?
She swears she's going to lose enamel off her teeth, clenching her jaw like this.
The whole situation is fucked. She feels mangled, inside and out. Fucking Infected. She navigates away from Edward's post before she starts to feel nauseous. She goes right to Arthur's inbox, away again to Tiffany's, away once more to Larry's. She contemplates Misty and Jake and Butcher, and then goes right back to Arthur's. There's no avoiding this. No one else is going to get it and it's coming out no matter what.
She opens up an audio line:
"Arthur. I screwed up."
She sounds like she swallowed a frog.
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He's never turned her down, not even when she'd gotten into it with Yunlan in his cabin - he'd helped her, told her he was angry, and then left. He's always tried to be empathetic.
He's doubly so more now. The moment he hears her voice he goes still, puts his cigarette down, and replies:
"Lemme come to you. Where are you?" His voice is soft, gentle, but firm. Let her rest herself in his hands for a moment.
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"Inmate bathrooms," she replies. It's close enough. She can step out before he gets close. She drops her voice a little: "There's some guy on the barge who looks like an Infected. I shot him."
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He's putting on his boots as she speaks, the thunks audible in the background.
"He die?"
First things first.
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"So he ain't dead, and Larry saw you, but neither have come after you. Larry's gonna take him to the infirmary, and I'm gonna come pick you up. Alright?"
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"Alright," she replies. And then, with the barest, most uncomfortable chuckle: "I think he's a warden too."
Like it'd be any better of a situation if it was an inmate? She's not sure.
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"If I got the right guy," he does, who else looks like a corpse here? "You're likely right. He made a whole video about it."
A little too much for Arthur's taste, but he can understand the reasoning.
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It occurs to her that she’s never shown one to Arthur, but it’s fine. She knows what she’s talking about.
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"Jesus, the Admiral sure as hell knows who to bring here, huh?"
He's closing his door, and walking to the right level.
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"Well, now he's both shot and ugly as hell," Arthur says, pragmatically. It's likely not very nice of them to say all of this; he doesn't give a shit. She's upset, so it's warranted.
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"Alright, tiger, calm down," he grunts at her, shaking his head. "He's not gonna leave just 'cause you think he'd be better off without a leg."
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"Well, I'm not going to be in the same space as him," she informs him. "Are you close?"
The more time passes, the more reason to think someone's raised some sort of alarm.
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"Listen closely and you'll hear me," he says, speaking a little louder for a moment before he hangs up and walks up the stairs. He walks right to her and puts a big, warm hand on the back of her head.
"Come on. Time to go."
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"Where are we headed?"
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"Not your cabin or mine - spa?"
He never goes there and as such, in his head, it's more or less deserted all the time. Perfect to hide out in a little.
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She means it to be teasing, but it comes out a little flat anyway.
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"By you? Thanks, I'll pass."
He puts his arm around her shoulders as they walk. She could use the support, but he also wants to discourage people from talking to them, and two friends who look like they've got something going on are less likely to be bothered.
"Couple minutes more, then you can let go, alright? Just hold on."
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"I seen that guy, and I seen what I look like after I visit a real barber," he points out, easily bantering with her to keep her at least somewhat occupied. "I'm gonna leave it to the professionals."
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"I did live in a cave before I got here," he points out. "After we chased out the people-eaters."
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