[Raylan had seemed to be perfectly fine, as an adult and not a carefree undergraduate, but there's still a part of Gonou that may be holding on to a few of the responsibilities of Zhu Bajie. Perhaps it's just that he misses teaching; he hardly has the right to go back to any position of that kind of responsibility, not with what he's done.
But he worries, for absolutely no reason; and so, just after the dinner shift a few days past their return from the other lives, he'll pick up his communicator for a quick message.]
Ah... this is Gonou. How are you doing? After the breach?
[Raylan was surprised to see his phone light up and even more surprised at the voice on the other end of the line.]
Gonou. [Bajie. A faint smile ghosts across his face for a half second before he clears his throat softly.]
Uh yeah, I'm. Fine. Not at all like the collage I actually went to, but- [His accent was thicker, vowels rounded out with whiskey and the fragile nearly transparent airs he was trying to hoist.] Weren't the breach that was hard.
Be glad you don't know what Florida State University is.
[But he let a long moment pass with a sigh and the sound of him sipping at his whiskey.]
A dream.. That's.. a good way to put it. Place where we were all different and, if not happy, then at least not as miserable as we all are here.
Wouldn't mind to slip into another, if I'm bein' honest.
[And he, in his drunken state, didn't know Why he was being honest but..
Yeah, Gonou was a murderer. He was also a decent guy, tales of that nasty temper aside. Maybe it was stupid, but Raylan's gut wasn't often wrong and he trusted the guy, to a point.]
[He couldn't argue with Gonou's points; they were all valid and rooted in a reality Raylan would really rather escape from right now. He's done this before, he knows he'll find a way to get out of the other side, but right now, he was in the shit.
But admitting he'd take any dream that wasn't this reality right now wasn't something he could do, regardless of how much whiskey he'd poured down his gullet.
Gonou's question made him laugh - a throaty deep sound that edges a little too close to a repressed sob and was promptly cut short.]
Yes darlin'. For many many many days, [he said with an air of theatrics over the 'many many.' Never mind that this was the first endearment, and one that Sober Raylan will be mortified by, to pass his lips to someone who wasn't Involved with him - he was well into that bottle right now.]
Which is why I'm tucked securely into my cabin where I can't fuck up anythin' else that I touch. It's like trial by fire but its whiskey and the burn doesn't make me go to the hospital.
["Yes, darlin'"? Yes, he's very drunk, isn't he. Gonou winces, a little bit in sympathy and a little bit in frustration at his own instant sense that he needs to do something about this. Truly, Zhu Bajie is more trouble than he is worth to have in Cho Gonou's head.
He sighs, quietly enough that he hopes the communicator won't be able to pick it up.]
That depends on how much of it you drink, I'm afraid. Raylan... what happened?
I will have you know, [he drawled - can you hear the wag of his finger? ] I've gone through a divorce. I've drank through it too. Arlo was an alcoholic, Frances was an alcoholic - pretty sure it's in my genetics at this point..
[Least Winona left him with a note. Never thought he'd ever be grateful for two sentences.
Genetics or no, anyone can drink more than is good for them.
[There's a faintly sardonic tone in his voice at that. It's not his genetics that do it; he'd tried alcohol once or twice before, when he was human. He hadn't had that high of a tolerance. But in this body, he hasn't yet found an amount of alcohol high enough to so much as let him feel a tipsy buzz.
It's probably true that there's some amount he'd feel, though.]
[If nothing else, he remains amiable; He's said similar things to himself, to Arlo.. Real shame it didn't work right now. This was better than his alternative.]
He was my partner at work back home. Saved my life a couple of times. He made it back from the breach but..
[The sound of him sucking his teeth softly came through, voice dropping down into something regretful and sorrowful.]
He made it back from the breach-- [but, which seems to indicate that he's no longer here?]
Is he gone now?
[Was he an inmate? Gonou had thought he might be a warden, but he can't say for certain. It hadn't come up, as he'd been much more distracted by the walls turning into frogs.]
Nah, don't do that. My fault anyway. Shoulda bet on it, really.
Took him two hours to get to his cabin and another 15, 20 minutes with me, half a conversation and.. poof. I left for a smoke and came back to an empty cabin. Empty empty.
Trust me G. Be glad you had young love. Somethin' to warm yourself with when you get older.
Gonou hadn't realized, but then, there was no reason he would have known. He hadn't asked, and he hadn't seen them together. It does explain the drinking.]
Do you think he left intentionally?
[People do, or so he's heard, disappear without warning or goodbye at times.]
I really do promise you can't say anything that will ruin my day, Raylan.
[He might be young, but the innocence has been beaten out of him over the last year; it's not only his humanity that has been stolen by all the blood he's bathed in. He shakes his head.]
-- In my experience, it's worse thinking about what you've lost when you're alone.
[It's several decks down from Gonou's cabin, and it'll take him a few minutes to get there; he knocks politely on the door frame as he arrives, before pushing the door open.
He's his usual buttoned-up self, fall of hair almost obscuring his eyepatch, beige slacks and a collared shirt with long sleeves. Still, there's concern in his eye.]
[The door was already halfway open but the single room was dark, faint light coming from the windows that didn't look out into the hall despite being on that wall casting along the 70's wood paneling and bloodstained, muddy red looking carpets, barely touching the expanded kitchen area that sat directly across from the door. The only other two doors were easy to guess - a closet with a sliding door and the bathroom door which was also left open.
But it was clean, bed made and Raylan grunts from Gonou's left to draw his attention before lifting his US Deputy Marshal starred coffee mug.]
You found the right door, congratulations. Come on in. [Raylan pushes to his feet - he was fully dressed, if a little messy with his hair, flannel shirt with it's arms rolled to the elbow open to show the ribbed undershirt underneath and as always, those wingtipped boots.]
You drink? [Either way, Raylan was gonna go grab him a cup. He only had 3 but they were still all serviceable.]
I drink. [He's getting a rapid education in his own alcohol tolerance, in fact, and has not yet discovered its limits. He clears his throat with a quirk of a smile.]
... Unless you're from a world where the drinking age is twenty-one, I suppose?
[He does remember that much from the university. Although the idea's a little ridiculous, in his opinion.
He glances around Raylan's room with a hint of curiosity as he steps in. It's a nice room: not fancy, the furnishings are worn and the carpet is badly stained with something he thinks might be blood, but it has a large kitchen and several windows.]
[Raylan spun the mug around on his finger as he ambled back to the small round table and the two chairs that were on either side, setting it down on the table with a crooked and still somehow empty grin, it didn't reach his eyes, more like a face following muscle memory.]
I am but I'm also from the hills. We make our own rules. I was drinkin' moonshine at 17. Not well and I threw most of it into a plant nearby, but no one found that out, so I still got all the credit.
[As he spoke, he spun the cap off the bottle and pours a good few fingers into the new mug. Sitting himself down, he topped off his own and sat back, one leg crossing over the other.]
'Sides, we're all goin' through some shit and there's no one here to chastise me. You're old enough.
A "drinking age" was a new idea for me in that breach in any case.
[He accepts the mug, taking a small polite sip. The harsh burn of liquor is, he has to admit, more to his taste than the fancy mix of fruit flavors Trevor had made him.
After a moment, he takes the seat across the table and looks over at Raylan.]
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But he worries, for absolutely no reason; and so, just after the dinner shift a few days past their return from the other lives, he'll pick up his communicator for a quick message.]
Ah... this is Gonou. How are you doing? After the breach?
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Gonou. [Bajie. A faint smile ghosts across his face for a half second before he clears his throat softly.]
Uh yeah, I'm. Fine. Not at all like the collage I actually went to, but- [His accent was thicker, vowels rounded out with whiskey and the fragile nearly transparent airs he was trying to hoist.] Weren't the breach that was hard.
How're you doin'?
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[He's not sure Raylan actually sounds all right. He sounds, if anything, a little... fragile.]
Ah. I'm all right. It was ... a nice dream.
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[But he let a long moment pass with a sigh and the sound of him sipping at his whiskey.]
A dream.. That's.. a good way to put it. Place where we were all different and, if not happy, then at least not as miserable as we all are here.
Wouldn't mind to slip into another, if I'm bein' honest.
[And he, in his drunken state, didn't know Why he was being honest but..
Yeah, Gonou was a murderer. He was also a decent guy, tales of that nasty temper aside. Maybe it was stupid, but Raylan's gut wasn't often wrong and he trusted the guy, to a point.]
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Perhaps bad dreams are easier that way.
Raylan...
[His voice does sound a little slurred, doesn't it?]
... have you been drinking?
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[He couldn't argue with Gonou's points; they were all valid and rooted in a reality Raylan would really rather escape from right now. He's done this before, he knows he'll find a way to get out of the other side, but right now, he was in the shit.
But admitting he'd take any dream that wasn't this reality right now wasn't something he could do, regardless of how much whiskey he'd poured down his gullet.
Gonou's question made him laugh - a throaty deep sound that edges a little too close to a repressed sob and was promptly cut short.]
Yes darlin'. For many many many days, [he said with an air of theatrics over the 'many many.' Never mind that this was the first endearment, and one that Sober Raylan will be mortified by, to pass his lips to someone who wasn't Involved with him - he was well into that bottle right now.]
Which is why I'm tucked securely into my cabin where I can't fuck up anythin' else that I touch. It's like trial by fire but its whiskey and the burn doesn't make me go to the hospital.
Violent hugs. [ he added thoughtfully ]
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He sighs, quietly enough that he hopes the communicator won't be able to pick it up.]
That depends on how much of it you drink, I'm afraid. Raylan... what happened?
['Violent hugs'?]
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[Least Winona left him with a note. Never thought he'd ever be grateful for two sentences.
He took a moment and a deep breath.]
Gutterson left. You know him? Tim Gutterson?
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[There's a faintly sardonic tone in his voice at that. It's not his genetics that do it; he'd tried alcohol once or twice before, when he was human. He hadn't had that high of a tolerance. But in this body, he hasn't yet found an amount of alcohol high enough to so much as let him feel a tipsy buzz.
It's probably true that there's some amount he'd feel, though.]
I think I spoke to Mr Gutterson once....
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[If nothing else, he remains amiable; He's said similar things to himself, to Arlo.. Real shame it didn't work right now. This was better than his alternative.]
He was my partner at work back home. Saved my life a couple of times. He made it back from the breach but..
[The sound of him sucking his teeth softly came through, voice dropping down into something regretful and sorrowful.]
Damned if I do, Damned if I don't.
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Is he gone now?
[Was he an inmate? Gonou had thought he might be a warden, but he can't say for certain. It hadn't come up, as he'd been much more distracted by the walls turning into frogs.]
I'm sorry for your loss.
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Took him two hours to get to his cabin and another 15, 20 minutes with me, half a conversation and.. poof. I left for a smoke and came back to an empty cabin. Empty empty.
Trust me G. Be glad you had young love. Somethin' to warm yourself with when you get older.
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[Ah. So he and Tim had been...?
Gonou hadn't realized, but then, there was no reason he would have known. He hadn't asked, and he hadn't seen them together. It does explain the drinking.]
Do you think he left intentionally?
[People do, or so he's heard, disappear without warning or goodbye at times.]
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I'm certain he did. Only way to get away from me and the bees I put in his head.
Par for my course, really.
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I'm sorry.
Would you... appreciate company? Or would you prefer to be alone right now?
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[Gonou was barely full grown. It felt.. wrong to taint him with the Kentuckian cynisim that tended to turn into rants.]
You're kind to offer. I'll be alright. Well practiced at this kinda self abuse. Been doin' it long 'fore Tim went anywhere, don't you worry.
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[He might be young, but the innocence has been beaten out of him over the last year; it's not only his humanity that has been stolen by all the blood he's bathed in. He shakes his head.]
-- In my experience, it's worse thinking about what you've lost when you're alone.
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I ain't tellin' you no to company, just.. [There was a deep breath.]
Warnin' you I'm shit company right now.
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Deck 8, cabin 7. Shitty Red door. It'll be open.
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He's his usual buttoned-up self, fall of hair almost obscuring his eyepatch, beige slacks and a collared shirt with long sleeves. Still, there's concern in his eye.]
Raylan?
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But it was clean, bed made and Raylan grunts from Gonou's left to draw his attention before lifting his US Deputy Marshal starred coffee mug.]
You found the right door, congratulations. Come on in. [Raylan pushes to his feet - he was fully dressed, if a little messy with his hair, flannel shirt with it's arms rolled to the elbow open to show the ribbed undershirt underneath and as always, those wingtipped boots.]
You drink? [Either way, Raylan was gonna go grab him a cup. He only had 3 but they were still all serviceable.]
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... Unless you're from a world where the drinking age is twenty-one, I suppose?
[He does remember that much from the university. Although the idea's a little ridiculous, in his opinion.
He glances around Raylan's room with a hint of curiosity as he steps in. It's a nice room: not fancy, the furnishings are worn and the carpet is badly stained with something he thinks might be blood, but it has a large kitchen and several windows.]
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I am but I'm also from the hills. We make our own rules. I was drinkin' moonshine at 17. Not well and I threw most of it into a plant nearby, but no one found that out, so I still got all the credit.
[As he spoke, he spun the cap off the bottle and pours a good few fingers into the new mug. Sitting himself down, he topped off his own and sat back, one leg crossing over the other.]
'Sides, we're all goin' through some shit and there's no one here to chastise me. You're old enough.
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[He accepts the mug, taking a small polite sip. The harsh burn of liquor is, he has to admit, more to his taste than the fancy mix of fruit flavors Trevor had made him.
After a moment, he takes the seat across the table and looks over at Raylan.]
So. Would you like to talk about it?
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cw discussion of self-inflicted eye injury
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holy hell, im so sorry this got lost
No worries! <3
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