Deerington Inbox

[almightythirst]

Hey there, stranger. Don't think I gotta explain the situation: you called, I didn't pick up. Leave me a message and maybe I'll get back to you.

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[no_reload]

It's not as if I can leave here much.

[He gestured at his face, at the burn scars that marked him and made him easily identifiable. He had enough good sense that way, so he sequestered until it was dark. Then he could wander with a hood on. Some memory had surfaced about precaution and little else.

He remained near the stove, leaning on the counter edge as he watched McCree settle in. He imagined their conversation was important, since it had drawn the younger man back here quickly. The gravity of it wouldn't be known to him for a few months yet.]

Your alcohol is in the fridge cooling. Figured you'd need it for this, as the conversation appears to be heavy.

[almightythirst]

Never thought you'd be such a good host.

[ The joke falls flat despite his best efforts, as Jesse busies himself with fetching the alcohol from the fridge. Lord knows he'll need it for this. He settles down at the table with two glasses, in case Reaper might want to partake himself. Maybe he'll want to after he hears this. ]

And yeah... you aren't wrong about that. This isn't somethin' we even really talked much about, before.

[ He pours himself a drink, hesitating a moment before filling the other glass as well. If Reaper doesn't drink it, he will. ]

Truth is, we didn't have to. You blamed me, and I knew I deserved it.

[ He's stalling. He realizes it, but he just stares solemnly down at the liquid in his glass instead. ]

[no_reload]

You clearly don't know much about me if you're claiming that.

[And that statement seemed to be opposite from what he could tell and the little bits that he was starting to remember. Also the whole gigantic birthday spread he had put on for Moira; he was an excellent host, and he'd murder anyone who would continually claim otherwise.

He remained at the counter, but his eyes followed Jesse as he moved to the fridge and back, keeping his arms loosely crossed over his chest. He ignored the glass poured for him right now, too close for brownies being done to feel the need to move from his spot.]

You do recall that I don't have many memories, yes? What you're saying makes little sense to me other than an impression here and there.

[He was smart enough to put aspects of his deaths together, since he remembered all of those very clearly.]