Rosita Espinosa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
handleyourshit) wrote2032-07-23 01:51 pm
handleyourshit) wrote2032-07-23 01:51 pm
She nods at his answer - she can see that. Hell, she hasn't said more than the bare bones to Jesus since they were reunited, and he hasn't brought it up at all with her; they each have their piece of it to deal with, and all the sharpest edges are aimed at each other or themselves, so they just keep moving forward instead.
It must be so much worse when there's a more formal partnership involved. More direct influence and expectation on each other's life, and that's before the contracts even enter into it.
"You remember enough you still love him?" she asks, because she's still a little fuzzy on how the whole memory thing works, and she'd rather ask than assume with this one.
It must be so much worse when there's a more formal partnership involved. More direct influence and expectation on each other's life, and that's before the contracts even enter into it.
"You remember enough you still love him?" she asks, because she's still a little fuzzy on how the whole memory thing works, and she'd rather ask than assume with this one.
Moving forward, dragging their deadweight behind him. Jacob doesn't want to drag this, he doesn't want any more pressing down on his shoulders. He wants to find a way to forgive himself for all his sins, for his mistakes, and let go of it. But he's not sure how he can. Not when there's so much blood on his hands. The people he killed directly. The people Jack killed. The people who died in the Pit because he didn't know the right way of saving them.
But the talk is of Vrenille, as they reach a little shallow stream, large stones just peaking out from the surface as steps across. The sound of the water is... peaceful. It helps him banish those negative thoughts.
"I don't know if love is a memory, or if it's something else somewhere in you. But I never stopped or lost it. The fact was just... in some part of me I didn't know about."
But the talk is of Vrenille, as they reach a little shallow stream, large stones just peaking out from the surface as steps across. The sound of the water is... peaceful. It helps him banish those negative thoughts.
"I don't know if love is a memory, or if it's something else somewhere in you. But I never stopped or lost it. The fact was just... in some part of me I didn't know about."
Stay put. I'm five minutes away.
[A little more than five, but he shows up and knocks]
[A little more than five, but he shows up and knocks]
Before the pit she would have left it unlocked for him. Now she's still a little cagey, still a little too wary, to do anything like that and actually comes and answers the door for him.
"Come on in," she bids him, stepping back; she still has her splint for a few more days but she's gotten rid of the sling, and she's barefoot and still in the clothes she sleeps in, though there are signs around she's been up for a while: dishes in the sink, laundry in a pile.
"Everything okay?"
"Come on in," she bids him, stepping back; she still has her splint for a few more days but she's gotten rid of the sling, and she's barefoot and still in the clothes she sleeps in, though there are signs around she's been up for a while: dishes in the sink, laundry in a pile.
"Everything okay?"
"I'm good. I thought I'd bring you a present," the very last bottle of scotch he (and Carver) had swiped off the truck those months ago.
He looks her over in that quick, assessing way they both have: check for injuries, check for readiness. Jesus, though, has more warmth in his expression than anyone else in their groups ever had. "And see how you are. I worried I'd missed your contract deadline."
He looks her over in that quick, assessing way they both have: check for injuries, check for readiness. Jesus, though, has more warmth in his expression than anyone else in their groups ever had. "And see how you are. I worried I'd missed your contract deadline."
She grins when she sees the bottle. Normally she'd crack it right now because fine liquor was such a luxury there's never a sense in waiting, and even now that she's holding off from it she's still happy to see it. She'll still keep it for the future when she knows it's safe one way or the other.
"Niiiiice. You want some?" she offers, padding back inside. And then he has to go and mention the C word.
The grin disappears but she still brings down snacks out of the cabinets. "I'm good. Still got time."
"Niiiiice. You want some?" she offers, padding back inside. And then he has to go and mention the C word.
The grin disappears but she still brings down snacks out of the cabinets. "I'm good. Still got time."
"But not a lot," he confirms, and gets two glasses out of the cupboard. He does want some, and he knows she does too, and this is a talk that can be had over nice liquor.
"I've been thinking about it. I think I know someone who can help. Someone who needs your help, too."
"I've been thinking about it. I think I know someone who can help. Someone who needs your help, too."
She pours him a fingerful, taking a moment to smell it before she slides it across to him. The second one she fills with water, and levels a look on him over top of it.
"So you're playing matchmaker now?" she asks, like they don't both know he kind of always has been.
"So you're playing matchmaker now?" she asks, like they don't both know he kind of always has been.
"Small scale these days," but very much yes. He lifts his glass, Cheers. "He probably likes liquor too."
So even this is Jesus arranging things, trying to make things as smooth as possible. "His name is Jacob. He was taken captive when you were. But...he died there."
So even this is Jesus arranging things, trying to make things as smooth as possible. "His name is Jacob. He was taken captive when you were. But...he died there."
"Oh does he now," she asks, because yeah, she catches it.
But she's willing to hear him out. She's willing to consider whoever this is that he says needs help.
Her lips twist into a dry smile: "We met. One of the strapping young men that didn't need to listen to anyone at the time."
But she's willing to hear him out. She's willing to consider whoever this is that he says needs help.
Her lips twist into a dry smile: "We met. One of the strapping young men that didn't need to listen to anyone at the time."
He takes a sip, eyebrows raised slightly. "Tell me more about that?" If he's really going to suggest this, to push and nudge and negotiate for it, he wants to know how things worked out between them. Or didn't.
"He was one of the ones that thought he was protecting people by stepping between every little thing. They threw him back in next to me once and I tried to talk to him, but." She shrugs with her good shoulder.
"He thinks people can be better than they are. Hell, you'd probably like him fine." But she isn't as annoyed with him as she could be: "He did apologize later, though."
"He thinks people can be better than they are. Hell, you'd probably like him fine." But she isn't as annoyed with him as she could be: "He did apologize later, though."
Apologies are good. Someone who she thinks Jesus will like bodes well and he looks down, half-hiding a smile.
"I think you should do it. I think you two should contract. Vrenille does, too--he was Jacob's Dom the last three months."
"I think you should do it. I think you two should contract. Vrenille does, too--he was Jacob's Dom the last three months."
She starts to say something then stops when she actually processes that statement, closes her mouth again to press her lips together. Jesus hides a smile. Rosita's eyes narrow on him.
"Why would Vrenille think we should contract, J?"
"Why would Vrenille think we should contract, J?"
He looks up at her, meets her eyes. "Because he loves Jacob, and he trusts you with him."
"He doesn't know me. We met once, in a fight, while I was half out of my mind on sleep deprivation."
She's comfortable meeting his gaze right back.
She's comfortable meeting his gaze right back.
"You made an impression." He'll maintain that fact no matter how much she looks at him. "But he trusts my judgment, too. And he knows I trust you with everything."
"I stabbed two men in the neck with a piece of fiberglass." She imagines that would leave an impression, yes.
"So basically, you already planned this. With him."
"So basically, you already planned this. With him."
She's seen Jesus do this before, multiple times. He orchestrated the partnership between Alexandria and Hilltop; he was the one who brought Alexandria and the Kingdom together. This is, as he said, just that on a small scale.
"Are you angry?"
"Are you angry?"
She isn't the least bit surprised, certainly. And she's not actually angry at him, she knows that right away too. It's Jesus, being Jesus: people, causes, opportunities. He collects them and weaves them together. She can hardly blame him for being who he is and in a way, it's even encouraging.
Her instinct still is to balk. She is, generally speaking, upset although she doesn't know immediately why. Maybe just because that's her leading defense mechanism, always.
She sets her water glass down, and folds her good arm across her torso.
"Did you think I would be?" she asks, nodding at the scotch.
Her instinct still is to balk. She is, generally speaking, upset although she doesn't know immediately why. Maybe just because that's her leading defense mechanism, always.
She sets her water glass down, and folds her good arm across her torso.
"Did you think I would be?" she asks, nodding at the scotch.
Rosita doesn't find any joy in the blood on her hands, human or walker, but she refuses to feel bad about it either. Maybe that's the tradeoff: the weight she carries with her doesn't include any of the people she's killed, only what comes with still being alive.
"That doesn't make any sense to me," she tells him, not unkindly, but not particularly carefully either. It's true, for her: "You can't love someone you don't know exists."
She hesitates at the water's edge, checking up and down it to be sure it really is as shallow as it looks, that the water is clear, and then checking the way across.
"That doesn't make any sense to me," she tells him, not unkindly, but not particularly carefully either. It's true, for her: "You can't love someone you don't know exists."
She hesitates at the water's edge, checking up and down it to be sure it really is as shallow as it looks, that the water is clear, and then checking the way across.
Jacob knows he did what he had to do, to try and save lives, some people had to die. There's no doubt about that. But like Rosita, he never asked for the life that he's got, never wanted it, it just happened to him. And once you're an assassin, you can't ever stop. You know too much about the world, you know too much about how other people want to hurt others, control them, enslave them. If you leave, you turn your back on all of those people who need you. He just can't do that. But it doesn't mean he doesn't dream he could have had a different life. Duplicity offers him some respite.
"Oh, you're right. But when he walked into that cave, and I saw him again? It came back like a flood. Like it was never gone- like I hadn't been gone." He explains, "That's why it feels like it was always there."
"Oh, you're right. But when he walked into that cave, and I saw him again? It came back like a flood. Like it was never gone- like I hadn't been gone." He explains, "That's why it feels like it was always there."
And of course, if he doesn't remember something, he won't know until Vrenille says it - and Vrenille isn't talking to him right now.
She shakes her head, and steps out onto the first rock, moving quickly and competently across, good arm out to balance.
"Space is probably best," she has to agree, "Even just for a little while. Let things settle, let things pass. But I am sorry."
She shakes her head, and steps out onto the first rock, moving quickly and competently across, good arm out to balance.
"Space is probably best," she has to agree, "Even just for a little while. Let things settle, let things pass. But I am sorry."
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