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[handleyourshit]

  


This is Rosita.  I'll hit you back when I can.

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un: betterintexass

[handleyourshit]

For a little bit. What's up?

[hippie_ninja]

Stay put. I'm five minutes away.

[A little more than five, but he shows up and knocks]

[handleyourshit]

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?"

[hippie_ninja]

"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."

[handleyourshit]

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."

[hippie_ninja]

"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."

[handleyourshit]

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.

[hippie_ninja]

"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."

[handleyourshit]

"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."

[hippie_ninja]

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.

[handleyourshit]

"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."

[hippie_ninja]

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."

[handleyourshit]

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?"

[hippie_ninja]

He looks up at her, meets her eyes. "Because he loves Jacob, and he trusts you with him."

[handleyourshit]

"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.

[hippie_ninja]

"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."

[handleyourshit]

"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."

[hippie_ninja]

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?"

[handleyourshit]

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.

[hippie_ninja]

"No. This is because I think you're better at knowing when to use it as a social aid than I am." That and his apartment is so small he rarely has guests.

"I feel like I'm doing the right thing here, Ro. I believe you and Jacob could be a good fit and I want you to have that option before they take you to prison. If I'm wrong, tell me?"

[handleyourshit]

Prison. She normally might not have cared as much - not that she's remotely willing to just go along quietly, not after the shit she's seen - but just now the thought makes her bristle involuntarily.

Which is what the rest of it is too, really: a more evolved version of when she'd snapped at him before that she didn't want anyone to touch her. She's gotten over the literal aversion well enough, but thinking about a contract makes her want to punch someone every time she does.

"I just don't know him that well. I'm not like you, I don't want people around me all the time, and I don't know how I feel about you and someone I don't know deciding someone else I don't know is a good fit for something like these bullshit contracts."

[hippie_ninja]

"I'm not trying to force you to do anything." He is afraid of losing her to the prison. He is afraid of what happens to her if she just won't contract; he just went through that with another friend, one he has less history and less connection with and that was hard enough.

"I'm just trying to give you options. I believe Jacob is a good person; but I'm not here to tell you what to do."

[handleyourshit]

"I know you're not," she says, since she didn't actually say she's not angry with him. She's not. And he can't force her to do anything anyway, just like she can't force him; they're both too good at getting out of corners.

Which just leaves - what?

"And it's not like I have a lot of options. I banged five people in the last two days but they're either not people I'd take home, already contracted, or both."

[hippie_ninja]

He nods, but he's still watching her for signs she's upset with him.

"I'm just trying to help." Like he always has, like he knows how to do: by bringing good people home.

[handleyourshit]

"I know." She does know that - there isn't a malicious bone in Jesus's body, even at his most mischievous, even in the middle of a war. That's why it's usually up to her to draw that line.

This is harder. "Fine. Tell me what's going on. I know a little bit from Jacob - they're taking a break?"