"I don't know how to run it and neither does M. We're both sort of waiting for someone to tell us what to do with it only I don't know if he'll accept anyone else taking charge. Maybe me, but..." He doesn't want to be in charge.
"It'll be okay. I know mostly what Scott intended with it."
"Well that's not running it. That's expanding it," she points out, but she's not surprised. That's what Jesus always does.
But she sighs: "You know your friend told me I should consider thinking of us more like a guild than a community?" Not in so many words, but it was the point he was trying to get through to her.
"He's here talking to you without me, I think he qualifies as our friend now," Jesus smirks. He's pleased they get along, relieved they've bonded even if the reason that happened was the cruel joke the Creator pulled.
"What's the difference between a community and a guild?"
"Apparently a guild can have a guild house, but mostly everyone is off doing their own thing towards a common goal," is what she took away from it, mostly.
"That might be what we have here," he admits. He's not sure how he feels about it, though. He likes having his own space; it's one reason he doesn't live with Drake. But he also misses the Hilltop sometimes.
"He told me he feels more comfortable here than he does at the Manor in some ways. Says it feels more like home to him, even like this. Especially like this."
"That doesn't surprise me." But it does make him smile, make him feel a little relieved. "I don't think I could get attached to anyone who doesn't understand all...this, on some level."
"I think you're doing just fine," she says, firmly, even a little proudly. She told Vrenille once that Jesus is nothing short of a miracle where they're from.
"Yeah. I'm good." He smiles slightly. "Better than. Things have been really good lately. Having Broken Hollow and Creekside to go to has helped a lot."
The city gets to be too much for him sometimes. He hasn't had a panicked moment like he did on that rooftop, but he has smaller moments where he has to just go.
"I'm good," she says too, almost automatically, and in the context of how they used to mean it regularly, she is. She's functional. She's here. She's physically in one piece.
But then she catches herself, shading in the long rail of a fence taking shape on her page.
"Mostly I'm good. Sometimes I'm not. I don't know what to expect here, you know?"
"Yeah," he agrees with a soft exhale, like letting go of something heavy. "Mostly I'm good, too. Sometimes it's hard to take the train. Sometimes... Sometimes I can't make myself get on it."
It makes her wonder, then, if Carver said something - but she's sure she would have heard by now if he had. Jesus's strength is not being circumspect, not about that. About her.
It's not really a surprise they have similar hangups. "Crowds. I hated the looting. I kept waiting for it to turn bloody, to get messier than it was."
"I kept wanting to find you during that. But I couldn't stop myself from looting." He grimaces slightly. "I have new caches set up through the city now."
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She picks up her pencil again, and starts sketching on the paper she's supposed to be painting on.
"What's the problem?"
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"It'll be okay. I know mostly what Scott intended with it."
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"It's just like a community. Bring resources in, inventory them, distribute them back out."
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He's seen Rosita run training groups.
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Whatever her mission was, whatever she was assigned to, Michonne left her alone to run it and that's how she liked it.
"We'll go by sometime if you want, and I can see if anything jumps out at me."
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But she sighs: "You know your friend told me I should consider thinking of us more like a guild than a community?" Not in so many words, but it was the point he was trying to get through to her.
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"What's the difference between a community and a guild?"
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She ignores the our friend part.
"He also suggested I was the de facto leader."
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And he knows how badly Rosita misses Alexandria.
"Why don't you call Vrenille a friend?"
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"He is. We are." She's not trying to deny that part and she wouldn't. They went through something together.
He did his best to help Jesus. She won't ever forget that. "I'm just still working out what to even do with that."
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"What's that supposed to mean?"
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"And don't look at me like that. I know, alright? I'm just... still working shit out here."
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She tips her head, looking around them.
"He told me he feels more comfortable here than he does at the Manor in some ways. Says it feels more like home to him, even like this. Especially like this."
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She meant it. "Are you?"
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The city gets to be too much for him sometimes. He hasn't had a panicked moment like he did on that rooftop, but he has smaller moments where he has to just go.
"Are you?"
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But then she catches herself, shading in the long rail of a fence taking shape on her page.
"Mostly I'm good. Sometimes I'm not. I don't know what to expect here, you know?"
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It makes her wonder, then, if Carver said something - but she's sure she would have heard by now if he had. Jesus's strength is not being circumspect, not about that. About her.
It's not really a surprise they have similar hangups. "Crowds. I hated the looting. I kept waiting for it to turn bloody, to get messier than it was."
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whoops pretend she said Magpie earlier
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cw: suicidal ideation, grief
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