almightythirst | Deerington Inbox

Mm, fair enough.

[ She took her time to eye the painting as he went to retrieve glasses. Usually a deep lover of art, she's got her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she tries to figure out why the hell he's got something like that hanging on his wall in the first place. She's pretty sure that there's nothing deep about this and she gives a sigh of disappointment; nothing emphasized the differences between Jesse and Moira much more than this.

Returning her attention to the whiskey, she went to take her seat on the couch, lifting the bottle so she could start to pour some of the liquid into each glass. ]

There weren't as many direct deaths from the flu as I had worried there would be. Finally receiving some of our nanobiotic technology from home couldn't have come at a better time. [ She had watched the way Lance and Azwel had suffered first hand, seen Angela die in her office - it had all been a bit too much for her to take, apparently.

Her eyes flickered to the maps, though, brow arching as she looked over to him, setting the bottle back down and being sure to avoid resting it on anything that looked important. ]

Keeping busy?

[ What happened to Angela hangs there in the air, an unspoken fact he knows neither of them will forget about anytime soon. He wonders if that has anything to do with why Moira is here. Surely this all related, in some small part at least, to Angela. Else the scientist would be drinking with her, wouldn’t she?

The papers are a much safer topic, and Jesse acknowledges her question with a nod as he picks up his own glass. ]

Somethin’ like that. F.E.A.R. probably keeps tabs on what goes on around town already, but… [ He shrugs. ] Old habits die hard I guess. Plus stayin’ busy keeps me out of trouble.

[ Jesse holds up his glass expectantly over the table towards Moira, the smallest hint of a challenge in his smile. ] We gonna toast or what? Might as well do this proper if we’re gonna do it at all.

[ Moira laughs - not the usual cruel and harsh tone that she had around him these past few years, but a genuine chuckle of real amusement as she gives him a mockingly disbelieving look. ] Do you even know how to stay out of trouble, Jesse?

[ When he's raising his glass for a toast, though, the look is replaced with one slightly more stunned, before swiftly changing to that of thought as she plays with her glass for a moment. It was easier to feel a decade younger for a moment, the nostalgia of Blackwatch and the times when maybe they hadn't all hated each other quite as much as they pretended to some days. ]

Mmm... To old habits, then. [ She raised her glass to meet his. ] Since we seem to be surrounding ourselves with them at the moment.

[ Deerington’s cruelest trick is how it makes the past nearly tangible like this. It doesn’t even seem to be a function of the town, unlike the other purposeful horrors it inflicts on the dreamers. It’s just a side-effect, and Jesse isn’t sure he resents it more or less for that reason.

But at least the nostalgia isn’t all bad all the time. ]

To old habits.

[ He taps his glass against hers before knocking back the first mouthful of liquor. ]

And for the record, it’s not like I go lookin’ for trouble. [ Said with the easy smile of a man who is lying, and who is totally unconcerned if it’s caught at it. ] It just likes to find me. You know I'm an angel, right?

[ There's a small smile as the glasses clink against one another, one that she quickly hides in her glass as she takes a sip that might have been larger than entirely necessary. She hadn't been lying about needing a drink, clearly. ]

Ironically, the only one of us who can honestly claim to have ever been an angel is me. [ She finds the humor in it all now that she's no longer glowing. ] I'd say you're a terrible liar, but I know better than that.

Hey now, was that a compliment? Color me surprised. Didn't know you had it in you.

[ Because being a good liar isn’t a bad thing in his book, clearly.

Watching her take that first drink, Jesse debates whether or not to get to the heart of the issue this early on in this night. Maybe it’ll do them both good to get a little more alcohol in their systems before he starts asking questions. It’s not like it appears either of them intends to go slow. ]

How’d that pan out for you, anyway? The whole angel thing? Wasn’t a bad look on you.

I'm full of surprises.

[ It didn't matter whether or not she'd meant it as one, clearly. Although being a decent liar would never be an insult in her eyes.

She pulls a face at the whole memory of it, shaking her head. ]

Dreadfully dull, as one might expect. Is that what it's like to adhere to standard ethical practices? How do people not go mad with boredom? [ It's hard to tell if she's actually joking. ]

Most of us aren’t that straight-laced y’know. There’s a happy medium.

[ And because he’s not thinking, Jesse continues on after knocking back most of the remainder of his drink— ]

Angela is the most angelic person I know, her whole work-persona aside. Wouldn’t call her boring, would you?

[ Oh, well. So about that ‘avoiding the potentially tough subjects’ thing. ]

[ Moira’s demeanor likely couldn’t have changed faster; from joking about and being perhaps even semi-relaxed to her shoulders stiffening as she downed the rest of her drink in another, much larger gulp.

She puts her glass down on the table and grabs the bottle to refill it. ]

No. I wouldn’t call her boring. Though I suppose I also wouldn’t call her angelic. I’ve never cared for that idealization of her.

I guess it is a little too on-the-nose, huh?

[ Jesse sets his own glass down on the table, watching Moira without bothering to be very subtle about it. She already knows his habits, including how he picks up details about the people around him. Personal details. Situational ones. Never know what you can use in a pinch.

It’s surprisingly not a terrible feeling, being able to relax that bit of his guard for once. ]

… Look, I get that you’re here for a reason. You can talk about it now, get it out of your system- or keep it to yourself. But y’know how drinkin’ gets when you’re in that kind of mood and holdin’ things in. It’s not exactly a good time.

[ He shrugs as if it doesn’t matter to him either way, waiting for Moira to finish the bottle so he can fill back up. ]

Your call.

[ She expected that, at least. Moira put the bottle back down in front of him, taking her glass and shifting somewhat uncomfortably on the couch. Talking wasn’t her forte - not about anything that wasn’t science or art history or something based in analysis and fact. Emotions, relationships, and anything that fell into the general category of it all left her completely out of her element, floating about with nothing to grab onto for an anchor.

She wanted to reason, to find a way to make things make sense, and none of it really did. Or could. ]

Mmm. [ She kept her eyes on the liquid in her glass, like it would start speaking for her. It didn’t. She had to do this herself, clearly. ] I made an error in judgement. [ Oh that’s a fabulous start, using the same kind of phrase she’s said when experiments have gone horribly wrong and someone ended up with terrible complications. ] Angela had too much of that Devil’s cake. I think she ate nothing but for the last three weeks. If you consume enough, apparently it can wipe you clean of all your usual morals. I’m ... sure you saw her network post, how little she was herself. I thought she simply needed time to escape the trauma of her death, to feel in control of something - whatever it was this demon side of her gave her. I assumed it would run its course with little impact in the grand scheme of things. I was... incorrect. By the time I got rid of all the cake she’d hidden around the house, she had done a fair bit more than just playful mischief.

[ She goes to take another sip of the whiskey, closing her eyes as she lowers the glass. ]

She isn’t hurt, before you get any worrying ideas. And she didn’t bring harm to anyone that I know of. She... grew close. [ There was a moment of silence as she struggled to finish, her grip on her drink tightening some. ] To Reaper. I’m sure you can imagine how much he enjoyed seeing Angela act like a devil.

[ Jesse’s reaction to Reaper’s name isn’t unlike Moira’s own reaction to Angela’s. His fingers tighten on his glass, and he sits up a little straighter, as if readying himself for the man to appear right then and there. And despite her immediate reassurance, Jesse is already filled with all kinds of worry. After all, not being hurt isn’t the same as being alright. ]

What did he do?

[ He waits intently for an answer, the refill momentarily forgotten. Say what you want about how Jesse can carry on talking: when it comes to something serious, he's more than capable of getting right down to the essentials. ]

[ That certainly wasn’t making her want to open her eyes any. She closed them tighter, even, feeling her jaw tremble and going to bite down on her lip to try and stop it. Saying it out loud made it all seem so much more real, somehow, and she had done such a good job of pretending it was all in her head while she moped on her own in her farmhouse. She couldn’t ignore it forever, though, and she knew that talking about it with someone was the only way to really process it.

She put down her glass, rubbing her face with her hands, resting her forehead against her palms and her elbows on her knees. ]

He was trying to keep her from doing anything that would get her in trouble with the Authority, believe it or not. [ She at least manages to say that with something close to humor, even if it was weak. ] I suppose he got close. He stopped feeling so alone. He contacted me telling me to put a stop to it when he noticed how he was getting in over his head and I waved it off. She - They - [ Maybe she couldn’t say it after all. How had Reaper put it again? ] ... Betrayed my trust.

[ That’s the best she’s got, which is rather pathetic for someone who is usually so straight forward. ]

[ Moira isn’t looking, head still in her hands, so she doesn’t see the look on Jesse’s face when he works out what that means. It doesn’t matter anyway. This isn’t about him, which is why he keeps his initial response to himself:

I’ll kill him. Just for that, I’ll kill him.

Instead, Jesse lets the silence come, lets it be shaped by all the things said and unsaid. Lets it settle over them both, weighted with it all. There’s no reflexive platitude that will make it any better, so there’s no point in bothering, even if— for the first time in a long time, since even before Overwatch fell, when the experiments on Reyes started to show their results— Jesse feels something for Moira that isn’t tinted dark with his bias.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen her quite like this at any point in their acquaintance, going all the way back to the beginning. ]

… C’mon.

[ He sets his glass down on the table, still empty, and stands up. ]

We’re goin’ out back for a minute. Bring the bottle.

[ She wasn't sure what she had been expecting from it all, but in the end, she's relatively certain that that response wasn't it. Maybe she had just been expecting long bouts of silence, or some sort of conversation that would have involved her having to emphasize how she didn't blame them, how she mostly blamed the town and maybe a small bit of her blamed herself - none of which she was particularly keen on saying out loud, really.

She lifts her head to look up at him as he puts his glass down, brow creased, but surprisingly, she doesn't ask questions. She puts down her own glass as she gets up, picks up the whiskey like he told her to and motions for him to lead the way.

It's not often Moira isn't prying for more information, so maybe he should take this for the small miracle it is. ]

[ Jesse makes a pit stop in the kitchen, grabbing both his gun and a bottle of his own liquor from a shelf there, before leading them through the back door and out into the yard. It’s almost a full moon, leaving them a little light to go by. It’s enough to see that he’s headed towards his makeshift gun range. ]

It’s not like the old days, [ He admits, gesturing to the scarecrows and hand-painted bullseyes. ] but it’s somethin’.

[ He sets his bottle down on one of the nearby bales of hay, then checks to make sure Peacekeeper is loaded. ]

Remember those stupid contests Genji and I would get into? Knew he was competitive as all hell, even if he barely said anythin’ back then. I’d get him on speed, but he had me on accuracy.

[ She followed him outside, hardly surprised to see the shooting range that he'd set up for himself. Of course this is how he would utilize yard space. Why wouldn't he?

Not that she's one to talk. Her yard is home to a giant spider now, after all. Everyone has their quirks.

Moira rolls her eyes slightly at the memory, but there's the smallest smile that tugs at her lips regardless. ] I recall the headaches from the racket you'd make about it. [ Him. Particularly. Could Genji even make a racket???

Regardless, she doesn't seem to be following entirely, looking down at her scarred hand, the only real weapon she has. ]

You know I don't have anything that does damage to things that aren't alive, yes?

[ Jesse looks up from the gun in his hands without moving his head. With his hat on, it would have left half his face in shadow, all mysterious-like. Now, Moira can probably make out the full extent of his lopsided smile through the dark. ]

Yeah. I’m not so senile that I forgot already.

[ Which is why he holds the Peacekeeper out by the barrel, handle-first, for her to take.

It would appear to be a rather simple gesture, from the outside looking in. He and Moira know differently.

Still, his hand doesn't waver. ]

That’s why you’ll use this.

[ Surprise would have put the reaction she had mildly. It might not have shown to an extreme on her face, but it was enough in the hesitation she showed and the way her eyes flicked from the gun to McCree’s face.

This could end up even more embarrassing than the time that Reyes tried to teach her how to use a firearm. She’s great with the physics side of it all, but there’s just something missing whenever she tries her hand at it. Mmmmmmph.

She reached out to take the Peacekeeper somewhat cautiously, scrunching her mouth up a bit as she looked at it. ]

... I’m rubbish. You can’t make fun of me. [ She will kill u. ]

Like you wouldn’t laugh at me if I was tryin’ to use one of your gadgets?

[ Jesse waves her off, standing off to the side close enough to help if she needs it, but far enough not to be in her way. If having his weapon in the hands of an occasional enemy bothers him, he’s doing a good job not showing it. His expression is carefully neutral as he watches her. ]

It might do you some good, lettin’ off steam. Anything out there was made to be shot at, so it’s not like you can mess up much if you miss.

Of course I would, but we both already know I’m unkind.

[ To put it lightly. She’s still staring down at the gun, scrunching her mouth with some uncertainty, before she glances back at the targets. Does she even remember how to do this? She’s not completely sure. ]

It’s different than his shotguns. [ She knows she doesn’t have to clarify which “his” here. She still shifts so that she can face the homemade targets more effectively, lifting the gun and at least going to flip off the safety - look! She remembers! She can totally do this! Next is just cocking and pulling the trigger, right? Right. It’s not so—

She cringes visibly when the gun goes off though and only hits grass. This is bullshit. Who uses guns anymore, they’re useless. ]

[ The reminder of Reyes is sobering. Jesse is quiet after that, watching her line up the shot. He doesn’t laugh at the miss, though he does smile, unable to keep a completely straight face. ]

Yeah. Peacekeeper has less kickback- but she’s more finnicky too. Doesn't have the same spray effect.

[ He leans forward, arms propped on his knees. He doesn’t seem apt to take the burden from her hands anytime soon. ]

Try widenin’ your stance a little, and put your left leg out. Lean forward and try it again.

[ She gives him a look when she noted the smile. She should have expected it.

There's another huff as she goes to aim again, adjusting her stance like he told her to, glancing down at her feel as she puts her left leg out to make sure it's not too far and won't mess up her balance.

Physics. It's supposed to be basic physics. Just like when she throws her long-range biotics. She should be better at this.

She takes another breath, before going to pull the trigger.

At least she actually... kind of hit a target this time. The edge of one. Barely. She lets her shoulders slump. ]

This is ridiculous.

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