( he lets it be. hands ephemera a bandaid that'll about cover it, an' some salve of some sort or other. it don't have that old carbolic smell to it, which he finds he oddly misses, but it should do in a pinch. )
Then I'll let you manage this part.
( he thinks he's pushed the man just about as much as he can handle, an' gene's always had a keen intuition for how much a fella can take before they need to get back from the front. hot meal and a night's sleep. lord, but ephemera needs both. an' a friend to help him through.
to the gratitude, he just shakes his head, pats the man's knee as he stands up. there's some stiffness to his ankle, he shifts his weight off it briefly. really, he ought to see about the shrapnel. there's bound to be a surgeon here deft enough to manage it. )
Don't you get it in your head you owe me on account'a doin' my job, fella, huh? This is who we are.
( the good, the bad. helpin' each other. holdin' back a blow. all that. some of what lives in them in ugliness, an' there are surely folks who don't get that, but he does. ain't no judgment in him for it. he does reach out a last time, a hand against ephemera's shoulder, a slight flex of his hand. )
[ Somehow that clicks. Shakes something loose in his head. This is who we are.
Ephemera nods slowly. Doesn't stand up yet. He thinks about the baton and the knife, and how he'll probably sleep holding both of them. He's going to crash, he can feel it coming over him already. The exhaustion pressing down. Nothing for it. If he went out into the ring for another fight, for the adrenaline push, he'd turn it, make it real in a way that this sort of thing isn't meant to be. People fight for money, for spectacle, but not to kill one another and he'd probably kill someone if he went down again.
He breathes. In and out. Keeps it as steady as he can and doesn't slap Gene's hand away. Maybe they're beyond that, now. Or at least for tonight. ]
This is who we are.
[ He breathes. Focuses on that. On remembering what it's like to be in a body and not just his head. ]
I'll draw him for you.
[ He shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have offered, except that Gene did him a kindness, a real one, and that ought to be repaid. Ephemera's got nothing else to offer, nothing anyone else would want except a hand in violence or this. He closes his eyes again. Breathes out. ]
Your friend. If you describe him. I'll draw it. Not tonight. But —
( he ain't got many pictures of reggie. a strip of photos from a booth at the '39 world fair, the two of them goofin' off together, makin' silly faces for the camera flash. it's about all he has. gene still don't know why reg picked him, of all the folks in all the world, but. he did, an' they had four good years. best ones of his life, really, those days in new york sneakin' in places like the café society in greenwich an' watchin' the city from the observation deck of the empire state. lordy, they got in so many fights in back alleys, too, whenever someone took exception to reggie's presence in a white neighborhood, but most of their time was spent laughin', arm-in-arm.
in the years after '43, he had a ghost. now, here, he ain't got nothin' but his memories. the offer, such as it's meant, is almost its own manner'a blow. gene sucks a breath in through his teeth.
there's a moment when you step outta a plane when the world falls away an' gravity grabs you by the guts an' yanks your body down. it's a little like that. the drop. puttin' your faith in open air. )
I.
( he'd hate that. somethin' still an' empty. reg' was so damn full of life, it's the main thing gene's memory holds to him. he was always doin' somethin'. movin', dancin', whistlin' in perfect key. he could play the piano and loved the sax an' used to come up with ditties on the fly for no other reason beyond an honest joy in music. he could learn languages like he was born to 'em, an' gene still thinks he would'a become a doctor like his pa if he hadn't died on a clear, cloudless day in france.
he wants to politely defer. or at the very least brush the man off an' hope he forgets about it later, but. he can guess some at what this costs, too, an' he don't have it in him to refuse an honest kindness. his brow furrows, an' he has to breathe out easy because he can already feel the pinpricks of tears hot behind his eyes. he rubs his hand across the bridge of his nose. an' then nods, once.
there are always things bigger than your own pain. )
[ It would have been easy to land a blow now. Gene's open for it, exposed. Counting ghosts. It would've been easy to stand up and snap his neck, just like that. Ephemera had wanted to do that once. Not with Gene, no, but Carolina, he'd wanted her to know it was coming. To die hurting just like he was. It was why he'd refused to modify his gear to a suit a sniper rifle. There had been too much of him that needed her to know it was him, to see it coming. And he'd hated her enough to try it, to dig into whatever opening she gave.
He breathes out. ]
Okay.
[ He's never known what to do when other people cried except embrace them, and that —
Part of him wants to ease the hurt. But that's not his place. Not when he caused it in the first place. There's nothing to do but wait it out and hope it won't scar.
He stands up slowly. Better to leave now, and keep to his own company. His head isn't good around other people tonight. ]
[ Ephemera stiffs at the touch, but only a little. They're probably beyond that now, he thinks. With what they know about each other. The pain that was shared, and what Ephemera promised him. It's rare that he draws for other people, but this is important.
Just grab the other half'a the bench. Easier with two people.
( he'd done it alone to start, an' he could this time around too, but. there's somethin' of a catharsis in helpin'. in bein' asked to help. it's as important to the psyche as any other human thing. )
Right, [ he murmurs, feeling foolish. It was obvious, wasn't it? But his mind feels distant and tangled still, caught up on distant things. This is physical, though. Easy.
All right, then. You go on. look after yourself, pal.
( it's soft an' heartfelt. he won't offer to walk the man back to the safehouse or any such thing, he's obviously a fella what eschews weaknesses an' has had near about his fill. but gene'll probably check in on him after a few hours just to make sure he's sleepin' well as he can an' that he's doin' all right, an' he'll be content with that. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2020-01-01 04:57 pm (UTC)Then I'll let you manage this part.
( he thinks he's pushed the man just about as much as he can handle, an' gene's always had a keen intuition for how much a fella can take before they need to get back from the front. hot meal and a night's sleep. lord, but ephemera needs both. an' a friend to help him through.
to the gratitude, he just shakes his head, pats the man's knee as he stands up. there's some stiffness to his ankle, he shifts his weight off it briefly. really, he ought to see about the shrapnel. there's bound to be a surgeon here deft enough to manage it. )
Don't you get it in your head you owe me on account'a doin' my job, fella, huh? This is who we are.
( the good, the bad. helpin' each other. holdin' back a blow. all that. some of what lives in them in ugliness, an' there are surely folks who don't get that, but he does. ain't no judgment in him for it. he does reach out a last time, a hand against ephemera's shoulder, a slight flex of his hand. )
Only way forward is through, brother.
no subject
Date: 2020-01-01 05:13 pm (UTC)Ephemera nods slowly. Doesn't stand up yet. He thinks about the baton and the knife, and how he'll probably sleep holding both of them. He's going to crash, he can feel it coming over him already. The exhaustion pressing down. Nothing for it. If he went out into the ring for another fight, for the adrenaline push, he'd turn it, make it real in a way that this sort of thing isn't meant to be. People fight for money, for spectacle, but not to kill one another and he'd probably kill someone if he went down again.
He breathes. In and out. Keeps it as steady as he can and doesn't slap Gene's hand away. Maybe they're beyond that, now. Or at least for tonight. ]
This is who we are.
[ He breathes. Focuses on that. On remembering what it's like to be in a body and not just his head. ]
I'll draw him for you.
[ He shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have offered, except that Gene did him a kindness, a real one, and that ought to be repaid. Ephemera's got nothing else to offer, nothing anyone else would want except a hand in violence or this. He closes his eyes again. Breathes out. ]
Your friend. If you describe him. I'll draw it. Not tonight. But —
[ He opens his eyes, both of them. ]
I'm good a that.
cw for brief mention of period racism;
Date: 2020-01-01 05:58 pm (UTC)in the years after '43, he had a ghost. now, here, he ain't got nothin' but his memories. the offer, such as it's meant, is almost its own manner'a blow. gene sucks a breath in through his teeth.
there's a moment when you step outta a plane when the world falls away an' gravity grabs you by the guts an' yanks your body down. it's a little like that. the drop. puttin' your faith in open air. )
I.
( he'd hate that. somethin' still an' empty. reg' was so damn full of life, it's the main thing gene's memory holds to him. he was always doin' somethin'. movin', dancin', whistlin' in perfect key. he could play the piano and loved the sax an' used to come up with ditties on the fly for no other reason beyond an honest joy in music. he could learn languages like he was born to 'em, an' gene still thinks he would'a become a doctor like his pa if he hadn't died on a clear, cloudless day in france.
he wants to politely defer. or at the very least brush the man off an' hope he forgets about it later, but. he can guess some at what this costs, too, an' he don't have it in him to refuse an honest kindness. his brow furrows, an' he has to breathe out easy because he can already feel the pinpricks of tears hot behind his eyes. he rubs his hand across the bridge of his nose. an' then nods, once.
there are always things bigger than your own pain. )
I'd like that very much.
no subject
Date: 2020-01-01 06:28 pm (UTC)He breathes out. ]
Okay.
[ He's never known what to do when other people cried except embrace them, and that —
Part of him wants to ease the hurt. But that's not his place. Not when he caused it in the first place. There's nothing to do but wait it out and hope it won't scar.
He stands up slowly. Better to leave now, and keep to his own company. His head isn't good around other people tonight. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-01-02 02:30 am (UTC)gene just slings his bag across his back an' goes to unblock the door, bumpin' ephemera's shoulder as he goes. )
C'mon, gimme a hand.
no subject
Date: 2020-01-02 02:59 am (UTC)He'll get it right, when the time comes. ]
What do you need?
no subject
Date: 2020-01-02 03:00 am (UTC)( he'd done it alone to start, an' he could this time around too, but. there's somethin' of a catharsis in helpin'. in bein' asked to help. it's as important to the psyche as any other human thing. )
no subject
Date: 2020-01-02 03:14 am (UTC)He lifts his end. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-01-03 01:38 am (UTC)C'mon. You want a drink, or you reckon you're gonna head back to the safehouse an' get some rest after all that?
no subject
Date: 2020-01-03 02:01 am (UTC)[ He's too tired to play it off. Just the fact of it. ]
I'm gonna head back. Sleep it off.
no subject
Date: 2020-01-04 12:21 am (UTC)( it's soft an' heartfelt. he won't offer to walk the man back to the safehouse or any such thing, he's obviously a fella what eschews weaknesses an' has had near about his fill. but gene'll probably check in on him after a few hours just to make sure he's sleepin' well as he can an' that he's doin' all right, an' he'll be content with that. )