[ John has questions of his own but the ones Matt has seem far more pertinent in the moment. His are mainly curiosities as to the man he spends many evenings lately with. Maybe they'll have time to touch on things later. ]
Least I can do.
[ He isn't hurting for it but he comes by it by unscrupulous means. He works, he never lied about that. He never told him exactly what his job was and that he technically doesn't bet paid for it. At least not until last night. Outside of that he's still unsavory to most. Con artist at heart and good when he needs to be, which is always. ]
If you're not questioning then you're not paying attention.
[ He takes a step closer and reaches out to gently grasp Matt's wounded arm. ]
This is proof of what happened last night. Barmy as it is, you've just had a divine epiphany. It's not an easy thing to stomach. Most people can't manage it well. I---[ He sighs and looks his arm over a moment. They need to sort it for him. ]---I wanted to keep you away from this.
I'm sorry.
[ A rough, bitter sounding chuckle escapes him at mention of damnation. ]
Trust me, takes a bit more than a few lousy decisions to get your pass for the hot place.
[Working could have very well been freelance work for his parlor tricks. Matt never said that out loud but he thought it. If he can glean money from a lottery than it's some sort of trickery, something you can explain. Counting cards or getting algorithms isn't magic. All of that pales to opening up a door to the pit of fire.
He keeps his arm out for John's appraisal. The ash from whatever cinders or sparks flew make the dried blood look blacker. It doesn't help too that Matt is not the most tan person the planet. Pale and lightly freckled Irishman.]
Divine.
[A bitter laugh there, short and confused. Not weeping statues or healed cripples. Broken glass and deep tear marks across John's body and the floor.]
[ Could dress up in a funny costume at kid's parties, sure. Wouldn't put his skills to good use. He'll leave the theatrics for Z. Stage work is something he left behind in his punk rock days. Sure, he can explain the lottery. He gets his numbers from watching rising smoke. It's a bit dodgy, not really an exact science.
Frowning over the wound, he huffs softly and then lets go. ] I can help you sort that if you want.
Divine, yeah. Proof of the existence of heaven and hell. Doesn't get much more able to prove than claw marks in your hardwood.
[ He expects confusion. He expects anger. Denial even. ]
Because this is what I do. This is my life. I can't make up for things that I've already gone and cocked up but I will spend every breath I have making certain that every last demon I can find is sent straight back where it belongs.
[Proof of the divine is supposed to fee exultant, isn't it? Goodness and power. Well, what he felt was power standing in a room full of influence. Matt lets his arm drop gently to his side.]
Why? [Because he is hearing purpose but no reason. There has to be more to it than he rolled out of bed one day and decided to do this.]
Are you some holy agent of God and you've been enlisted in a war?
[Look, it's a laughable title and he is trying. This would not be the first time he has heard about people with a war that goes beyond society's sight.]
[ Maybe on the holier side of things, sure. On the other? This is about the size of that. Power is easy. He heads over to where he can lean against the kitchen island and take some weight off of one side of his body at least. ]
I'd make one sorry agent of God and I'm the last person he'd ask. Doesn't stop is feathery creations from coming around once in a while to try and twist my arm, though.
[ It's said with no shortage of bitterness. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth as it always does. ]
I do this cause no one else will. No one is willing to risk what goes wrong because when it goes wrong---[ John, it's following me! Make it go away! ]---I do this because I can never make up for what I did.
[Matt follows. There really aren't that many comfortable places in the apartment besides the chairs and bed. The kitchen island is a good choice though. His brow furrows as he listens.]
Why isn't there a counter? If demons can pass freely, what's going on?
[Where are the angels? Where is God and his works? The coffee machine blips and he remembers that the pot is done and warm. He uses the moment to step away and pour two cups. John's words wash over him and it's like icy cold then scalding water.]
You make it sound like you've killed someone.
[Before this circumstance and context it is the worst thing that anyone can do.]
[ It's more comfortable than the floor at least. This is mostly cause he's winded as it is. He chuckles ruefully and shakes his head. ]
People like me, few as there are, are the only counter I've ever known about. The rest is some kind of cosmic joke with only a handful of dedicated players on either side trying to keep this world from pitching itself headfirst into the void.
[ Oh, they exist. Good, bad, and somewhere in between. Some working against their creator for power. Some that are simply trying to escape an eternity in hell. John can relate to the idea. He zones out a little as the hot coffee is poured into mugs. The scent does nothing for him in the moment, caught up as he is in memory. ]
Worse. [ You can't have her! You can't save her. He reaches up to rub at the burn scar on his left shoulder and chest, still prominent after all this time. ] An old mate of mine---his daughter Astra was possessed.
So me and mine, we went to Newcastle to help. Didn't know that her father had used her in darker things. Rituals and the like. Exorcisms are tricky, especially with children. Things---things go wrong and I thought I had it all sorted.
I was an arrogant little shite then. [ Still is, but now he knows some things a little better. He's learned the hard way. ] I called on a more powerful demon to drag the lesser one away.
I couldn't control it. It killed her and her soul was delivered to the pit. Along with everyone else involved in the ritual when we die.
[Both mugs plunk on the counter top. Black. The steam rolls and writhes in the air. The smell clears his nasal passages of the lingering scent of the night before. Scent and memory are so firmly braided together. Matt lets his hands frame the mug, enjoying the warmth. The touch and smell do not detract from the harrowing information coming at him. His brow furrows even deeper.
John is used to how Matt's eyes rest on him without seeing anything. The soft focus clouds over and he fights to keep composed.]
You--John, you--? It killed them?
[No doubting what he heard. Matt's voice is rough and low he swallows and blinks.]
[ Senses have a funny way with people's heads. He can still smell the slaughterhouse Nergal reeked of. He and Ritchie had fought the hardest out of all of them. Gary had hidden away. Annie had prayed (first time he'd ever known her to do anything like it) for all the good it did any of them. Judith he'd lost track of during it all but he thinks he remembers her screaming as well. He and Ritchie had been frozen in place, totally unable to do anything but watch in horror.
John had set his will against that bastard's power and managed to break through. For moments, precious seconds, he had Astra in his arms while hellfire licked at the both of them. Then that bastard Nergal had drug her away from him and they were helpless to do nothing but watch him tear her apart in front of them. ]
Nergal. Nergal killed her. [ He's used to Matt watching him but in the moment he can't do anything but look down. Away. It's too much. That guilt had him put himself in Ravenscar for all the good it did him. His eyes water and he doesn't try to stop it. ] Right in front of us and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
She was an innocent. So---when myself and the others die? We've only got one place we can go.
Doesn't matter that I was a stupid kid in over my head. Doesn't matter that she was just trying to stop what her father was doing to her. If I'd---if I'd known before she reached out to something she didn't understand I could've---
[ He nearly loses it but he drags in a sharp breath and coughs, despite the protest of his ribs. Get it together. You look like an idiot. ]
[Salt, saline and the way that his breathing gets off track. However long ago this must have been, it casts a long, cold shadow on John's life. It's emotion as well as motivation. Matt's circle of friends is tight and small. He has put them at risk. Was it for all eternity? No, the peril is real. And his heart starts to splinter between pity, anger and sympathy. The mug is what he grips to.]
Why? You should--you can be saved if you ask.
[God he can say more than that but thinking it through, trying to process this with what he has been taught and holds to be truth.]
Repent and do penance. Is that not--can you do that?
[Listen if one is an idiot they both are. Matt is fighting through emotion, almost choking on it.]
[ Going quiet doesn't make the pain any less. It's still arcing through him. Licking at him like that bloody fireball Nergal threw at him to keep him from reaching them again. He would've followed them straight to hell for the smallest chance of saving her. He tried so many things after.
He lost his sanity for a while on that road. He lost his friends. Most of them wish Nergal had taken him. They have that in common at least. He wishes Nergal would've taken him too.
He sniffs sharply and a weak laugh escapes as he shakes his head. ]
Not from this. No amount of repenting and penance will save my soul. When I die my soul will be delivered to hell. Then every bastard I've sent down will have a chance to get their own piece of me.
[ He reaches for the mug and draws it up to get a sip of the hot liquid. He doesn't blow on it. He's banking on the scald of it to bring his head back around and out of the muck of his tragic bloody past. ]
[The lack of speaking for a bit makes everything they have said bob and weave. Heavy shit. Not at all what would be ideal for how tired Matt is and how hurt John is. Life's sense of timing is pretty shitty at that. Matt lightly shakes his head in denial.]
No. That can't be it. Salvation is supposed to be for everyone, it's not conditional. How do you know that's not the--the shit they're feeding you to torment you?
[Tenderizing and torturing up until the end sounds particularly fiendish. Though right now the sheer irony that he parades around in red with horns is not at all the sort of conflicting flavor he wants to bring into the discussion.]
...even with--with doing what should be done? I don't understand.
That's the thing, Matt. That is it. I've been there already. I've got a room all cued up, been in it too. Caught a lucky break and got out.
[ Fairy godmother is more like. Long story. He scoffs softly. ]
I know exactly what happens at the end for me. It's not the same for everyone and I won't pretend to speak to what you believe. [ He respects him too much to let his own jaded ideas filter in there. Johnny sure can pick them, can't he? ]
It's not for us to understand or make the rules. But when they are broken? People pay for that. There is no price too high to save the innocent. A little girl died and was condemned to an eternity of suffering at only nine years old.
Someone has to pay for that. I have to pay for that.
[His face scrunches as if in pain. John is a flawed person. And that he knew from the very night he met him. Does he deserve take an eternity being dipped in the lake of fire and wrong through Hell over and again? No. He doesn't deserve that. No child deserves such a fate either which is also another shock. Can such sins, such damnation be absolved on this side? Can it even be reversed at all.
He reaches up to rub his forehead and eyes.]
I believe in justice. [Which might not have been what he was going to say at the start but it's what comes out.] I believe in hope.
[Can those alone do a goddamn thing? Matt thinks about the girl, crying in the night. About her father and how he hurt her. That stings and heats his blood to this day. This information is a cool, icy stinging. A crime all the same, awful and bleak.]
...I can't believe that.
[Which is about typical that he can't stop trying to fight back scalding tears. He hasn't even touched his cup yet.]
[ The other man is crying. Of course he is. Most people don't handle this sort of thing well and John? Well, he's best at hurting the people he cares about.
Case in point.
They both had little girls in their younger years crying in the night. The difference was that Matt saved his. John failed Astra in so many ways. I was important to you too once. ]
Believe what you have to.
[ For all the good it'll do. It won't change what happens for him. ]
[It isn't like he wanted to weep. Even last night in the pit of fear he told himself to keep it together. The emotion in not only himself but John too, it's too much to handle. So he tries to buck up and push the worst of it away from himself.
Believe what you have to is the nicest way someone has ever told him to shut the fuck up.]
It doesn't hurt.
[Matt sniffs and remembers he has a drink and takes it. The bitterness and warmth washing down his throat and into his empty stomach.]
Besides, you should go on back to laying down with or without codeine.
[ Pretending like it doesn't get to him is the only way he can keep going. Keep doing the things he's done. That isn't even touching on the shitty childhood that drove him into the arms of Annie and then the occult. This life, no matter where it has led, saved his.
He's said far less kind things to people he's known longer and might have once cared about more. Des, for instance. ]
You're rubbish at lying.
[ And sleep? Sleep is a terrible idea at the moment. ]
I need to call Chas. He'll whinge enough as it is that I didn't try to get in touch already.
[A joke they both can cringe to. Matt hasn't let on too much about all the twists and turns of the road to his life at this point either. And now he's not so sure if he should, that it would be more trivial or not matter when he can feel that the events of the night before have drilled a hole between them.]
You can have a look if it'll make you happy. I don't usually get burned so that's new.
[It feels like a burn. He stands and drags the back of his wrist against his eyes as he gets the first aid kit from the bedroom. It's seen a lot of action these past few days.]
...was all that why you came back to New York?
[Not a fun time. He feels like an even bigger fool.]
[ One that actually earns a laugh and that cringe. It's hell on his ribs but worth it. There's a cavern between them now. He doesn't need magic to feel it. That's what this life does. ]
I'd be over the moon, chief. Hopefully this'll be an isolated incident then.
[ He works on a little of the coffee in his mug as the other man retrieves the bag. He mentioned calling Chas, but that can come later. He also doesn't even know where his bloody phone is. ]
No. [ He says it quickly. He's a liar and a con man. Jackass of all trades. It doesn't mean he's without feeling. That old saying about loving and losing? Written by some idiot who never had to do either. ]
[No words come out, Matt nods and pushes his sleeve up further to his elbow and puts his arm to the counter. The surface is cool, and he's more aware now that it's stinging. The kit is open for John's use.
The beating of his heart doesn't change. So that much is true. Matt's own heart wavers a little.]
I like having you around.
[The confession is a lot less about tenderness and that honeymoon drunk feeling, a resigned fact. If John meant what he said about trying to protect Matt from what work he does, that means that this is not going to hit the way he intended.]
[ What words are there left between them after all they've said? Movements slower from the aftereffects of the codeine and general healing from a rough night, he starts to pick through the kit. Pulling out what he needs, he has to go around to get a towel with some soapy water on it first. ]
Even after all this?
[ John isn't sure he likes being around when it brings this kind of danger into his man's life. He knew better and he still got caught up in all this. Idiot. He gently cleans the area of the burn, inspecting it for anything untoward but nothing stands out. Good. ]
[No words will remedy what has happened. Not like it's so straightforward to call it a wound or a trauma. It's more of an intense reveal. Matt smiles a little in spite of himself.]
How I feel with what happened last night.
[And he knows that he cares for John too deeply to pretend it doesn't bother him. It would be a blatant lie anyway. Can they stop hiding from one another? Maybe a little?
The sting of the antiseptic makes him hiss a little. Nothing he couldn't handle.]
...my ex was resurrected by a cult of ninjas.
[Which isn't to say that this is a better or worse moment. Just facts.]
[ No words can ever fix that. Not even six months in Ravenscar could ease his guilt or pain. He uses it now as motivation to make damn sure it doesn't happen again. He nearly died saving a child with his own life force because he couldn't take the weight of another innocent life on his soul.
He eases up as he dabs on the antiseptic with a soft apology as Matt continues explaining. ]
Resurrection does a number on a person. You lose something.
[ Idle talk. He imagines that Matt noticed that then. With the Lazarus Pit it's a bloodlust that takes hold because one loses their very soul. They have to be reunited with it. Hence the talk of retrieval before. ]
[Drugged, beaten and clearly all in his own head, John's hands stay gentle working. Matt wants to ask questions but he isn't sure if he would like to hear any of the answers. No, there are no words are there?
Under the alcohol, the scabbing blood gets more red, and it clearly separates from ash. Normal feeling, though Matt's not the one with eyes so he cannot say one way or the other.]
Yes. She didn't remember me or...much of anything for some time. And she came to, already we had our differences in morality.
[ Time for questions rarely comes at a good one. If he has them, he should ask them. The answers won't change or be any easier to stomach later.
The wound is clearing away easily enough. The antiseptic will help stave off infection. John digs through and gets some antibiotic ointment to lay down next before he bandages it. ]
You trying to hint that complicated is your normal and shouldn't get in the way of us?
[ Terrible, John. Honestly. He quiets almost immediately after he says it and regrets it with the heaviness in the air. ]
Sorry, mate. I---I shouldn't have said that.
[ Clearing his throat he focuses on the bandage next, wrapping it with a practiced sort of ease. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Least I can do.
[ He isn't hurting for it but he comes by it by unscrupulous means. He works, he never lied about that. He never told him exactly what his job was and that he technically doesn't bet paid for it. At least not until last night. Outside of that he's still unsavory to most. Con artist at heart and good when he needs to be, which is always. ]
If you're not questioning then you're not paying attention.
[ He takes a step closer and reaches out to gently grasp Matt's wounded arm. ]
This is proof of what happened last night. Barmy as it is, you've just had a divine epiphany. It's not an easy thing to stomach. Most people can't manage it well. I---[ He sighs and looks his arm over a moment. They need to sort it for him. ]---I wanted to keep you away from this.
I'm sorry.
[ A rough, bitter sounding chuckle escapes him at mention of damnation. ]
Trust me, takes a bit more than a few lousy decisions to get your pass for the hot place.
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He keeps his arm out for John's appraisal. The ash from whatever cinders or sparks flew make the dried blood look blacker. It doesn't help too that Matt is not the most tan person the planet. Pale and lightly freckled Irishman.]
Divine.
[A bitter laugh there, short and confused. Not weeping statues or healed cripples. Broken glass and deep tear marks across John's body and the floor.]
Why is this happening? Why you? Why that?
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Frowning over the wound, he huffs softly and then lets go. ] I can help you sort that if you want.
Divine, yeah. Proof of the existence of heaven and hell. Doesn't get much more able to prove than claw marks in your hardwood.
[ He expects confusion. He expects anger. Denial even. ]
Because this is what I do. This is my life. I can't make up for things that I've already gone and cocked up but I will spend every breath I have making certain that every last demon I can find is sent straight back where it belongs.
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Why? [Because he is hearing purpose but no reason. There has to be more to it than he rolled out of bed one day and decided to do this.]
Are you some holy agent of God and you've been enlisted in a war?
[Look, it's a laughable title and he is trying. This would not be the first time he has heard about people with a war that goes beyond society's sight.]
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I'd make one sorry agent of God and I'm the last person he'd ask. Doesn't stop is feathery creations from coming around once in a while to try and twist my arm, though.
[ It's said with no shortage of bitterness. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth as it always does. ]
I do this cause no one else will. No one is willing to risk what goes wrong because when it goes wrong---[ John, it's following me! Make it go away! ]---I do this because I can never make up for what I did.
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Why isn't there a counter? If demons can pass freely, what's going on?
[Where are the angels? Where is God and his works? The coffee machine blips and he remembers that the pot is done and warm. He uses the moment to step away and pour two cups. John's words wash over him and it's like icy cold then scalding water.]
You make it sound like you've killed someone.
[Before this circumstance and context it is the worst thing that anyone can do.]
no subject
People like me, few as there are, are the only counter I've ever known about. The rest is some kind of cosmic joke with only a handful of dedicated players on either side trying to keep this world from pitching itself headfirst into the void.
[ Oh, they exist. Good, bad, and somewhere in between. Some working against their creator for power. Some that are simply trying to escape an eternity in hell. John can relate to the idea. He zones out a little as the hot coffee is poured into mugs. The scent does nothing for him in the moment, caught up as he is in memory. ]
Worse. [ You can't have her! You can't save her. He reaches up to rub at the burn scar on his left shoulder and chest, still prominent after all this time. ] An old mate of mine---his daughter Astra was possessed.
So me and mine, we went to Newcastle to help. Didn't know that her father had used her in darker things. Rituals and the like. Exorcisms are tricky, especially with children. Things---things go wrong and I thought I had it all sorted.
I was an arrogant little shite then. [ Still is, but now he knows some things a little better. He's learned the hard way. ] I called on a more powerful demon to drag the lesser one away.
I couldn't control it. It killed her and her soul was delivered to the pit. Along with everyone else involved in the ritual when we die.
no subject
John is used to how Matt's eyes rest on him without seeing anything. The soft focus clouds over and he fights to keep composed.]
You--John, you--? It killed them?
[No doubting what he heard. Matt's voice is rough and low he swallows and blinks.]
no subject
John had set his will against that bastard's power and managed to break through. For moments, precious seconds, he had Astra in his arms while hellfire licked at the both of them. Then that bastard Nergal had drug her away from him and they were helpless to do nothing but watch him tear her apart in front of them. ]
Nergal. Nergal killed her. [ He's used to Matt watching him but in the moment he can't do anything but look down. Away. It's too much. That guilt had him put himself in Ravenscar for all the good it did him. His eyes water and he doesn't try to stop it. ] Right in front of us and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
She was an innocent. So---when myself and the others die? We've only got one place we can go.
Doesn't matter that I was a stupid kid in over my head. Doesn't matter that she was just trying to stop what her father was doing to her. If I'd---if I'd known before she reached out to something she didn't understand I could've---
[ He nearly loses it but he drags in a sharp breath and coughs, despite the protest of his ribs. Get it together. You look like an idiot. ]
no subject
Why? You should--you can be saved if you ask.
[God he can say more than that but thinking it through, trying to process this with what he has been taught and holds to be truth.]
Repent and do penance. Is that not--can you do that?
[Listen if one is an idiot they both are. Matt is fighting through emotion, almost choking on it.]
no subject
He lost his sanity for a while on that road. He lost his friends. Most of them wish Nergal had taken him. They have that in common at least. He wishes Nergal would've taken him too.
He sniffs sharply and a weak laugh escapes as he shakes his head. ]
Not from this. No amount of repenting and penance will save my soul. When I die my soul will be delivered to hell. Then every bastard I've sent down will have a chance to get their own piece of me.
[ He reaches for the mug and draws it up to get a sip of the hot liquid. He doesn't blow on it. He's banking on the scald of it to bring his head back around and out of the muck of his tragic bloody past. ]
no subject
No. That can't be it. Salvation is supposed to be for everyone, it's not conditional. How do you know that's not the--the shit they're feeding you to torment you?
[Tenderizing and torturing up until the end sounds particularly fiendish. Though right now the sheer irony that he parades around in red with horns is not at all the sort of conflicting flavor he wants to bring into the discussion.]
...even with--with doing what should be done? I don't understand.
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[ Fairy godmother is more like. Long story. He scoffs softly. ]
I know exactly what happens at the end for me. It's not the same for everyone and I won't pretend to speak to what you believe. [ He respects him too much to let his own jaded ideas filter in there. Johnny sure can pick them, can't he? ]
It's not for us to understand or make the rules. But when they are broken? People pay for that. There is no price too high to save the innocent. A little girl died and was condemned to an eternity of suffering at only nine years old.
Someone has to pay for that. I have to pay for that.
no subject
He reaches up to rub his forehead and eyes.]
I believe in justice. [Which might not have been what he was going to say at the start but it's what comes out.] I believe in hope.
[Can those alone do a goddamn thing? Matt thinks about the girl, crying in the night. About her father and how he hurt her. That stings and heats his blood to this day. This information is a cool, icy stinging. A crime all the same, awful and bleak.]
...I can't believe that.
[Which is about typical that he can't stop trying to fight back scalding tears. He hasn't even touched his cup yet.]
no subject
Case in point.
They both had little girls in their younger years crying in the night. The difference was that Matt saved his. John failed Astra in so many ways. I was important to you too once. ]
Believe what you have to.
[ For all the good it'll do. It won't change what happens for him. ]
We should fix up your arm.
no subject
Believe what you have to is the nicest way someone has ever told him to shut the fuck up.]
It doesn't hurt.
[Matt sniffs and remembers he has a drink and takes it. The bitterness and warmth washing down his throat and into his empty stomach.]
Besides, you should go on back to laying down with or without codeine.
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He's said far less kind things to people he's known longer and might have once cared about more. Des, for instance. ]
You're rubbish at lying.
[ And sleep? Sleep is a terrible idea at the moment. ]
I need to call Chas. He'll whinge enough as it is that I didn't try to get in touch already.
no subject
[A joke they both can cringe to. Matt hasn't let on too much about all the twists and turns of the road to his life at this point either. And now he's not so sure if he should, that it would be more trivial or not matter when he can feel that the events of the night before have drilled a hole between them.]
You can have a look if it'll make you happy. I don't usually get burned so that's new.
[It feels like a burn. He stands and drags the back of his wrist against his eyes as he gets the first aid kit from the bedroom. It's seen a lot of action these past few days.]
...was all that why you came back to New York?
[Not a fun time. He feels like an even bigger fool.]
no subject
I'd be over the moon, chief. Hopefully this'll be an isolated incident then.
[ He works on a little of the coffee in his mug as the other man retrieves the bag. He mentioned calling Chas, but that can come later. He also doesn't even know where his bloody phone is. ]
No. [ He says it quickly. He's a liar and a con man. Jackass of all trades. It doesn't mean he's without feeling. That old saying about loving and losing? Written by some idiot who never had to do either. ]
I came back because I wanted to see you.
[ He should've stayed away. Maybe then--- ]
no subject
The beating of his heart doesn't change. So that much is true. Matt's own heart wavers a little.]
I like having you around.
[The confession is a lot less about tenderness and that honeymoon drunk feeling, a resigned fact. If John meant what he said about trying to protect Matt from what work he does, that means that this is not going to hit the way he intended.]
no subject
Even after all this?
[ John isn't sure he likes being around when it brings this kind of danger into his man's life. He knew better and he still got caught up in all this. Idiot. He gently cleans the area of the burn, inspecting it for anything untoward but nothing stands out. Good. ]
no subject
How I feel with what happened last night.
[And he knows that he cares for John too deeply to pretend it doesn't bother him. It would be a blatant lie anyway. Can they stop hiding from one another? Maybe a little?
The sting of the antiseptic makes him hiss a little. Nothing he couldn't handle.]
...my ex was resurrected by a cult of ninjas.
[Which isn't to say that this is a better or worse moment. Just facts.]
no subject
He eases up as he dabs on the antiseptic with a soft apology as Matt continues explaining. ]
Resurrection does a number on a person. You lose something.
[ Idle talk. He imagines that Matt noticed that then. With the Lazarus Pit it's a bloodlust that takes hold because one loses their very soul. They have to be reunited with it. Hence the talk of retrieval before. ]
no subject
Under the alcohol, the scabbing blood gets more red, and it clearly separates from ash. Normal feeling, though Matt's not the one with eyes so he cannot say one way or the other.]
Yes. She didn't remember me or...much of anything for some time. And she came to, already we had our differences in morality.
[His lips curl warily at that.]
What I'm saying is, it was complicated.
[And yet not as hard feeling as this moment.]
no subject
The wound is clearing away easily enough. The antiseptic will help stave off infection. John digs through and gets some antibiotic ointment to lay down next before he bandages it. ]
You trying to hint that complicated is your normal and shouldn't get in the way of us?
[ Terrible, John. Honestly. He quiets almost immediately after he says it and regrets it with the heaviness in the air. ]
Sorry, mate. I---I shouldn't have said that.
[ Clearing his throat he focuses on the bandage next, wrapping it with a practiced sort of ease. ]
Should do.
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