[open] you know what your problem is?

[baltimores]

WHO: Amos, any Kenoma
WHAT: Amos rewards himself for being cured of Innocence by going on a depression bender.
WHERE: Throughout Achamoth
WHEN: Towards the end of/after the event
WARNINGS: Depression, self-loathing, a little suicidal ideation, lots of drinking, references to brothels, discussion of domestic violence/sexual assault/prostitution/child prostitution; will update as necessary



[ So, this sucks.

Getting out of Venera as soon as possible had been the only thing on Amos' mind once Misa had forced him out of Innocence's grip. That thing had exploited his vulnerabilities, manipulated him, turned him into a puppet to spread its nonsensical, fucked up somewhat understandable agenda, and he needed to leave immediately, before he fell victim to it again.

His legacy's shrine is one of the closest to Achamoth. Easy.

He had to swim across a lake and spend days walking across farmland in waterlogged boots before he actually made it back to the city. Less easy.

Though for all of the personal discomfort and frustration that brought with it, it was readily ignored by spending that time mentally reviewing everything he did while he was fucked in the head, now that he could with proper context. All of the harm he'd caused, all of the ways he'd refused to listen to reason, being reminded of the fact that all he's really good for is ruining other people's lives. Turns out that sucks.

Then there's the fact that ever since an initial mishap during one of his first days in Achamoth, he's been careful to not go out into the city with his shard exposed — but since anything he'd used to cover it up had ended up getting destroyed in Venera, he has no choice but to subject himself to. This. When he's the last person who should be revered or admired in any way, and now he has no way to avoid it.

The first stop on Amos' list is somewhere that can get him clothed again, courtesy of I don't have any money but I am an Aion can I please just have a shirt now. All subsequent stops are, well... ]


i. so just drinking and fucking

[ Going back to the Citadel isn't even remotely on his mind, certainly not when he's got plenty of self-pity to wallow in.

Amos sticks to the seedier parts of Achamoth, weaving his way through various bars and brothels as the mood strikes him. He still doesn't have any money on him, so it's a whole lot of showing off his shard to get either free booze, comped sex, or serve as a credible IOU (and one that, to the meagre credit he has left, he'll actually fulfil once he's had the chance to get his head back on straight and reacquire finances from the Citadel). It isn't hedonism he's fully sinking into so much as I'm a bad person, I feel like shit, I'm going to do things that physically make me feel less like shit. There are worse coping mechanisms, he figures; if there actually aren't, he doesn't care.

He ignores all communion messages he feels coming through; the best anyone can hope for if they try to reach out to him directly is a tacit acknowledgment that he's still alive, combined with maybe a somewhat hazy impression of his immediate surroundings, if that latter part ends up slipping through.

That, or maybe you just so happen to run into him in some shithole dive bar or upon leaving a brothel.

Either way, there really isn't a whole lot he can do if you end up in physically the same space as him, is there. ]


ii. till they run out of one or the other

[ At some point, he actually does have to go back to the Citadel.

He's clearly worse for the wear when he finally shows back up there, rough around the edges when he finally delivers his report to Xishen — several days late, but who's counting — and then has free reign of... well, not the entire place, but the usual.

Fuck, does he need a shower. And a nap. And maybe another drink, because why the hell not. Even though he may not necessarily look it, Amos is certainly feeling better; otherwise, he wouldn't have ended up back here.

Maybe he's dishevelled, maybe he's finally had the chance to clean up; maybe he's briefly roaming the hallways, maybe he's taking advantage of having his own spacious room again. Either way, he's certainly more receptive to company, having gotten most of... that... out of his system in the city.

Though Amos isn't forgetting how easily led astray he was, all in the name of hurting people, anytime soon. That part still bothers him, but when hasn't that been a regular part of his psyche, anyway. ]


iii. wildcard

[ I'm at arii#6412 or cadiai if we need to talk specifics. ]

Comments

i / wildcard

[epiprocta]

[ ... this asshole.

Gen may or may not slam down his glass on the counter a little too hard, clicking his tongue loudly as he looks towards the entrance to the bar for the Nth time -- and sure enough, still no Amos walking in. Is he really going to make himself a pain in the ass and require a whole 'nother search session to hunt down? Ugh. ]

Gimme another one.

[ Ignoring the disapproving stare from the bartender no doubt unhappy about having his glassware mishandled, Gen slides over the money for a second beer. And though he looks up the moment he hears the door creak open, it's just some random stranger wandering in, earning another indignant huff. His barstool's juddering lightly from the way he jostles his leg, and Gen snatches up his beer the moment the bartender hands it over to take a long drink.

-- how badly did Amos get fucked up in Venera? Presumably he went through the same bullshit that most of them did, but ... Gen hadn't pinned him the type to react this badly to anything. What the hell did he have to deal with while under the influence of that shit?

The door creaks open once more, and though Gen snaps his gaze over to it in irate fashion, he sits up straighter the moment he realizes that, this time, it is who he was waiting for. ]

-- you're late.

[ Which means, of course, Amos walks through the door and is promptly greeted by that surly remark. Sorry bro. ]

iii.

[subsist]

[ kaeya is wandering down the halls of the citadel seemingly with no destination in mind. he's got a bottle of fine wine in one hand and two glasses stacked on top of each other in the other. while he wants to continue to avoid everyone, especially those he shares legacies with, he appears to have reached that limit tonight for reasons unknown.

he could have spent tonight drinking in his own room all by his lonesome, but there's a chance he won't finish the bottle on his own. there's no point letting a drink like this go to waste or so he says to himself, as if that's remotely convincing. the truth of the matter is that he'd rather not be alone tonight so he's heading towards the room of someone who wouldn't judge him too harshly. not that he can guarantee that, but it's just the general feeling he gets after the few interactions they've had so far.

he raps on amos' door quietly, not quite aware of how late it is. the worst thing that can happen is the guy refuses to be in each other's presence, which would be understandable, but at least he can give amos the wine so he isn't the one who would end up drinking the entire thing alone.

he's got a smile ready whenever the door opens, hands lifting up the spoils he's brought over tonight. ]

Are you busy?

[zauneyete]

[ Silco snorted, but sat. He was not so desperate for drink, but neither was he hurting for the funds to pay for drinks, after all, the only think Silco seemed to purchase with any voracity, was cigars. Speaking of, he pulled one out, put it in his mouth, and clipped it, before he paused. Amos may notice, his other hand never left his pocket. He'd carried the glasses with one hand, too. ]

You don't smoke, do you?

[ He asked, and would he have been kind enough to offer one if Amos said yes? It's possible. He seemed in a way, and people tended to... remember when a kindness was shown their way. Silco looked him over, curious. ]

I didn't see you, when we got back to Achamoth.

[ He said, before he lit his cigar. ] I didn't expect to find you opting to lurk down here in... squalor.

[lifespanned]

[ Gen might have pointed rudely at her and insinuated she's too dumb to find her way back (to be fair, this is true), but Misa glances over at him, watching him leave with a hard to read, thoughtful expression. She's... well, thankful, for his quick thinking, his attempt to find a way to force Amos into coming back. She certainly wouldn't have thought of that herself. So, her gratitude ends up outweighing the irritation she would've normally felt at such a comment.

With the perfect excuse now, she continues coming, getting to the bar just in time to put her hand over the rim of the glass that Amos had just ordered, interrupting the bartender from sliding it to him. She truly has half a mind to send the glass crashing into the ground to get both of them thrown out, but she decides she'll let Amos decide if he wants to leave with what remains of his dignity in check, or if she needs to resort to making a scene. ]


You heard him. You need to come back to the Citadel with me, so no more for you.

[ Is she saying that last bit embarrassingly and patronizingly loudly, solely so that the closest bartenders and patrons can hear? Yes, yes she is. Her words are watery despite trying so hard to sound stern, as she's still on the verge of crying. But after all this stressing and effort, her will is set in stone, edging on recklessness - she thinks if it comes to it, she'll really fight him to take him back, at this point. She caused this, and she means to end it, too. ]

i

[galdorleod]

[ Venera had been a complete shitshow. There's really no other way to look at it, not unless the Kenoma want to lie to themselves. They managed to find a solution to the infection, sure, but everything else about their week there — the investigation, their reunion with the Pleroma, the distribution of the cure, the Entity that capped it all — it was a complete shitshow, and Howl is in his own hurry to move on and forget about it.

And after his forced induction into the world of brothels by none other than Dionys, the most beautiful and desires woman in the city, his increasingly go-to method of forgetting himself is women. After his return to Achamoth, he spent only a few hours in his room before leaving again.

It's later that night, when Howl is lounging half-naked in a private room during a break, that one of the brothel's support staff peeks her head into the room and asks whether "the other Aion man, in the other room" is meant to be with Howl... and whether she ought to be putting everything on the same bill, because, (and with much denigrating and apologizing for having to bring this problem to him,) the other Aion does not seem to have any money on him at the moment.

This makes Howl blink. It's not so strange for another Aion to be here, it being one of the most highly regarded brothels in the city, but an Aion with no coin on hand...? If one pushed their weight around enough, flashed their Shard at enough managers, one could get whatever services one desired here for free... but Howl can't think of any Kenomas who would actually do that. Not when money is so easy for them to come by. One of the newer Aions he hasn't met yet, maybe...?

A few minutes later, there's a sharp and commanding rap at Amos' door. Having already confirmed with the staff member that the Aion within was not currently in the midst of services, he does not hesitate to simply open the door a few seconds after his knock, telling himself that he's given the man within sufficient time to pull a bedsheet over himself if he really needed to.

...

"Oh. Amos! Good evening!"

i.

[gravings]

[ Gray is maybe... a little lost.

Getting a taste of the freedom and (relative) anonymity of Venera has made her less than eager to return to the Citadel with its army of servants and watchful eyes. In greater Achamoth, she can at least attempt to conceal her Aion status. Cloaks and layered clothing are far from conspicuous to the gothic-flavored public, so she blends right in with the populace with her heavy hood and repressed aura. Wandering the streets and getting to know the city is a calming pastime, second only to shutting herself in with a good book.

But today she's probably wandered a little farther than she should have. She's spaced out so badly that she's ended up in a more... wordly part of the city.

This she realizes when a small flock of beautiful, enticingly dressed Achamites beckons for her to join them at the entrance of a plush-looking establishment. Gray stares for a long moment before realizing their likely profession, whereupon her face immediately bleeds into pink. She shakes her head apologetically at them and hastily backpedals for a retreat—

—only to suddenly stumble into someone behind her. ]

[baltimores]

[ The way his words hit him, Gen might as well have literally slapped him in the face. It's all Amos can do but turn back to look at him when he growls out his name, starts ordering him around. He watches with a dumbfounded expression, bordering on cowed, as it all comes out before Gen turns to leave, leaving no room for argument.

Not that Amos would have one anyway. He just stares at his back — up a little, the white streak still in his hair — as Gen leaves, a sinking feeling in his gut at the idea that he's in charge of making sure Misa gets back safe now. He shouldn't be in charge of anyone, entrusted to anyone's safety. Not after the way he'd acted in Venera. All of it.

Except he really can't object, either. He can't protest when Misa effectively cuts him off. He's not ready for the party to be over, but now it's been forced out of his hands.

He slowly turns to stare at Misa when she speaks up, consumed by self-loathing and sadness — the former a feeling that's blanketed him for most of his life, a companion so constant he can only recognize it now due to its current intensity; the sadness indecipherable to him but something painful all the same — and waits for a far too long moment before wordlessly sliding off of his seat and standing before her. The fact that she's upset stings; the fact that she's still so strong-willed makes it so much easier for him to give in to her, want to follow her back.

Amos gestures towards the door with one arm, heavy and exhausted and without much in the way of choice. Just, you know. Okay, you're in charge. Lead the way. ]

[baltimores]

Sorry.

[ It's said flatly, not because Amos doesn't mean the apology — well, he kinda doesn't; he's wronged Gen in much more grievous ways than being late for a meeting the kid himself set — but because he has only so much ability to express platitudes on a good day, and this isn't exactly a good day.

At least he's looking more like a person, though. Can't do a whole lot about the cuts and bruises on his neck — nor on his wrists and forearms as he has his sleeves rolled up, not caring enough to hide them, but that's more completely normal for him rather than being in the throes of a self-pitying bender — but his hair is finally brushed. The bags under his eyes are a little less prominent. He's mostly alert, and that's about as good as anyone could hope for.

Can't stop the way his eyes linger on the white in Gen's hair, though. For as good as he is at keeping his expression mostly blank, he can't stop that pang of self-loathing, and it'd probably be difficult to hide that from a fellow member of his legacy anyway. Instead Amos brushes past Gen to pay the bartender way more than he'd have to just to get a single drink. Though he's still getting one all the same, and he turns back to Gen as he waits for it, claims the seat next to him. ]

I'm here now. You wanted to talk.

[ There's a degree of emptiness to his words, like he's bracing himself to get scolded. Even though it's the least of what he deserves, it's not like he's been raring to receive it. ]

[baltimores]

[ Really, he'd just been lying on his bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling, thinking he should probably go to sleep and then proceeding not to at all. While the knock does initially surprise him, after a moment Amos sits back up, staring at the door as if that'll yield a result, before sighing and getting up to open it himself.

Truthfully, he wouldn't mind the company, especially if all he's going to be doing is lying there aimlessly. All Amos can tell from the murky feelings he's picking up from the other side of the door is that it's another Lover who's sought him out; when he opens it and sees Kaeya there — Kaeya with enough wine for two, specifically — he offers him... not quite a smile, but close enough. The feeling of kinship on his end should be unmistakeable, anyway. ]

Nah. Come on in.

[ He's accumulated enough furniture to create some kind of a small lounge area, nested comfortably in one of the corners of his room: soft oversized chairs, a small table, and he's already headed over there, expecting Kaeya will just follow him. He'd been preparing to sleep, which means he's got nothing more than silk pants on for the occasion, and it's not like he sees any reason to get dressed now, leaving his shard, some scars from past exploits, and the still-healing bruises and cuts along his arms and torso from certain exploits after his return from Venera on full display. They're all a part of him in some way, they all happened to him; he's got no shame about any of them. ]

[baltimores]

[ He honestly hadn't known this was one of the more highly regarded brothels in Achamoth; as Amos had meandered his way through the streets before this particular urge struck him, all he'd known was it had been the closest. Sure, it's probably been the most comfortable place he's been since before he left for Venera, but that fact hadn't exactly registered in his mind, more concerned with the need to get some kind of release — and more later, if his body cooperates — before passing out for the night and getting back up the next day to resume doing this all over again.

He's still spaced out when there's a knock at his door; Amos doesn't register it until it's already open, but at least he'd already had the bedsheet covering his lower half. At first, Amos figured he'd just be going at it again sooner rather than later, but why the hell not; it isn't until Howl says his name that he recognizes it's a fellow Aion. ]

Hey. [ His words come out a little slurred and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, blink forcefully a few times to try to bring Howl into focus. Right. Right, he knows him. ] 's only evening? Thought it was later...

[ He trails off aimlessly, at first lifting a hand to provide a meaningless gesture about the passage of time before letting it just fall back to his side as though it's actually too heavy for that. He's just left staring up at Howl, not entirely sure what he's doing here but not opposed to his presence, either. They're both just kinda there, as far as he's concerned. ]

[baltimores]

[ Not like he'd been watching where he was going, either, but at least to the little credit Amos has left he'd been standing still.

It had been a moment of indecision for him — booze or sex, booze or sex — when he'd been left looking at the outside of the same establishment those Achamites had been trying to draw Gray into. Maybe they were going to be the scales that tipped his decision, at least until he'd felt her bump into him, and even with his delayed reaction time he had enough of an idea as to what had just happened to rest a gentle but firm hand down on her shoulder.

And then he'd looked down, trying to see just what, exactly, had happened, and... oh, fuck. She's small. She's young. She really shouldn't be here, and Amos is hardly in a position to try to help someone else out when he can't even keep track of himself, but it just so happens this is a very specific scenario he'd rather she avoid...

He's too drunk for this. ]

Hey. [ His voice is rough around the edges after some days of abuse, but it's as soft as he can make it all the same. Amos keeps his hand down on Gray's shoulder, but the touch is so light she could easily slip away from it if she wanted to. ] You okay?

[ He really doesn't know what he's going to do if she says that she isn't. Also, he has the sense that he should probably recognize her, but wherever he could have possibly seen her before just isn't coming to him at all. Only so much one can do when you've never really spoken to someone before and you've spent some time dulling your mind on purpose. ]

[baltimores]

[ It's really all Amos can do but to treat Barnaby's invitation at face value, brain moving too slowly to see it as anything but. That, and there's a part of him that still recognizes what his relationship with Barnaby actually means, so him wanting to spend time with him...

Amos shrugs. ]

Sure. I could eat.

[ In better circumstances, he'd be simultaneously bewildered and touched that this is happening at all; in his current state, however, he's just content to go with the flow. Barnaby's a friend, right? They're both Kenoma of the same legacy. It just makes sense.

He turns to look around at the bars lining this street; the ones from the street behind him, where he'd just come from. He's not really registering any of what he's seeing though, just kinda making himself dizzy instead. ]

Some of the places here make food quick, 'm pretty sure... could get a drink while waiting for them.

[baltimores]

[ He'd been a bit too far gone to pay that much attention to any of Silco's movements — or lack thereof, in the case of keeping a hand in his pocket, he assumed — but the cigar was a little hard to miss. Amos kept a hand loosely around his glass as he turned his body to face Silco proper before answering. ]

Nope.

[ Normally he might've followed up with something about air quality, how smoking on ships wasn't something one saw too often, but all of that was a little beyond his grasp at the moment. Instead, he just watched with a degree of fascination as Silco lit the cigar before what he'd said next actually sunk in.

He offered up an aborted half-shrug, abandoning the movement when he recognized it threatened to throw him off balance. ]

It's easier being here. [ He was born in squalor, forged by squalor; it's where he belonged, wasn't it? Especially after Venera had reminded him of how there was no hope for him. Not really. He could try to do the right thing and he'd still fuck it up regardless. ] I just... had to get back here as soon as possible. That other place — [ Venera, and how he didn't want to talk about it specifically at all, so why mention it by name — ] fucked with me. I couldn't be there.

[ ... Why was Silco here, actually? If he'd been able to hold onto the thought for longer than a fleeting moment, Amos might have actually asked, considering the other man's attitude; instead, just thinking about Venera had him throwing back maybe half of his glass. Fuck that place. Miserable as his existence was, being here was so much better. ]

[baltimores]

[ Just trying to get a read on people, is all. Emet-Selch's been an odd one, ever since that dinner with the Regent, although Amos is more and more getting the impression that that was just a blip on the radar rather than anything particularly serious.

That, or the Regent had settled things right very effectively, which is fine by him.

The question has Amos frowning in thought as he opts to lean back against the wall beside Emet-Selch. It's more comfortable. ]

Doubt I'm the type who'd have the aptitude for it. I've always been better at breaking stuff than fixing anything. [ That's part of why the Kenoma had come so naturally to him, wasn't it? Either way, he's not exactly bothered by the idea. ] Maybe some basics. Y'know, like whatever'd be useful in the field. I can stitch people up the regular way, but that doesn't exactly work in the middle of a fight.

[hundredpower]

[Whatever Barnaby's feelings about Amos, he's not heartless. He can set them aside to help him, and if he gets something in his stomach it should help. Looking around at the closest bars doesn't offer any appealing options, but Barnaby chooses what he guesses is the least worst option and gently tugs Amos's arm to guide him along.]

We'll try here. [Once they're seated, he orders them both a glass of water before Amos can either protest or realise just what the bartender is sliding across the bar to him. Who knows, maybe he'll mistake it for vodka or gin at this point, considering he barely seems to register where they are.] What would you like to eat? I'll buy.

[lachtara]

Magic and its use are intrinsically unique for each individual. 'Learning the basics' would be of no use to you.

[ It would be teaching him principles that may not even apply to how he would use that sort of magic. Not that he can give them the skills to know magic that they do not have anyway. ]

Although, if I may make the observation that one does not require healing magic if they are quick enough to 'break' their target.

[ In other words, do what you're best at, Amos. ]

[epiprocta]

[ Yeah, he can tell Amos doesn't really mean that 'sorry' but -- whatever. Amos being a little late to this meeting is hardly the biggest problem at the moment.

Amos might feel a sharp gaze prickling at him as he takes his seat with the way Gen's looking him over critically. It doens't go amiss that he's looking a little more cleaned up now compared to the day before, even if he's still looking a far cry from his usual self. Gen wonders how much of that is thanks to Misa, and makes a mental note to himself to ask her later how that whole mess went.

But for the moment, Gen only gives a low huff before shifting in his seat to face the bar once more. Takes a big swig of his drink before saying, ]

Why d'you keep looking at me like that. [ It had been hard to miss the odd, sympathetic shiver that rippled down his spine, after all. An oddly tight feeling in his gut that had lingered for a moment before being squelched. Something that feels terribly familiar, but he can't quite place in this context. (Or maybe doesn't want to place.) ] You were like that yesterday, too. Looked at me like you'd seen a ghost or something. You that surprised I'd come looking for you?

[ Gen only gives Amos a sideways glance before returning his gaze to his drink; it's the absolutely minimum level of consideration one can give in this situation, permitting Amos that room to breathe without being stared at, but at least it's something. ]

[zauneyete]

Right.

[ Venera had been... rather frustrating as a location for Silco as well, although not for the same reasons as Amos. Certainly, the lingering effects of being so close to the Innocent entity still lingered -- his hand missing even now, the crystals slowly growing, but it's still not fast -- but more than that, the sting of being taken by such a thing was what infuriated Silco.

He could imagine something similar happened to many of them, although most weren't drinking themselves into oblivion like Amos was. Whether he was because of the memories that were dredged back up, or because of a close-encounter with the Innocence-entity, he couldn't tell. He also wasn't going to play therapist, either. (As if someone like Silco, who probably desperately needed therapy, would even consider doing so.) ]

It "fucked" with many of us, you know. I'm afraid that doesn't make you very special. [ He took a drink of his own drink, before he set it down, and puffed at his cigar. ] I'm certain they thought you may have defected, since nobody has seen or heard from you.

[baltimores]

[ He looks away from Gen, not so much out of shame but an excuse — here's his drink, and he can take a long, slow sip of it while staring out across the other side of the bar instead. He knows he's being stared at, being judged. Probably by more people than Gen, really, but that really doesn't make a difference; Gen's opinion of him is the only one here he cares about.

He sets his glass back down at Gen's huff, though. Looks him in the eye when he speaks, willing his gaze from travelling up a little further, to that scar of Innocence in his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's not going to shy away from this, though. He doesn't deserve to. He's just going to end up being an open book before Gen anyway, no matter what he does.

That knowledge makes it easier to answer him. ]

I hurt you. Deliberately. [ His voice is flat when he speaks, almost clinical. At least laying it out for him now makes it easier for Amos to tamper down his emotions. These are facts, nothing more. ] Didn't think you'd want to be around me again.

[ ... No, tampering down his emotions was a lie. Turns out it still hurts to think about this after all, like that wasn't a main catalyst for him feeling the need to try to drink and fuck it all away, and he can't exactly suppress that sharp pang of emotion.

He doesn't look away from Gen, though. He doesn't deserve to run and hide anymore. ]

[lifespanned]

[ Having been prepared to have to stand her ground and claw her way into getting Amos to come home— she's left at a slight loss when he gives in so easily. Now she's feeling like perhaps she came on a bit too firm... but what were her and Gen supposed to do? Seeing that dead look in his eyes in Venera, knowing for a fact that he was willing to do whatever it takes to ward her off - it had only made her think of having to go to the extremes whenever she eventually retrieved him.

And it was a question of "when," not "if." Amos is different from the other Kenoma— too similar to herself for her to really abandon, even in the face of how he'd acted, and what she'd seen. It horrified her, of course, having to watch and feel it all so vividly. But it's not as though she feels disgusted by him or afraid of that capability for violence— it's... well, it's nothing, really. There's not a lick of remorse or judgment that she has for his actions in his memories. Only what had happened directly after.

Not that she can really make herself be angry at him... just at the situation. The tears welling up in her eyes spill over, but she wipes them away quickly, digging into one of her pockets to lay a few jools on the bar counter so that they can go. There's a heavy, dense silence as the pair make it out into the evening air, with Misa taking her time so that they don't cross paths with Gen again. Once they're finally out in the open again, with the door safely shut, she clenches both her hands, only holding herself back from giving him a good whack in the chest with one of her fists because he genuinely looks like shit. ]

—We don't have to talk about anything. [ She declares, still scrubbing at her face, frustrated. There's no point in beating around the bush. She'll just let her stance be known right away. ] I just... you have to go back. I don't care if you're mad at me, but you're going back home. Don't try any funny business...

[ And she really means that, too. Because that's who Misa is— she just does what she thinks is best for the people she cares about, doesn't really weigh in the other person's opinion of her very much into the equation. And she has to assume he has some level of 'not wanting to see her' in his heart.. it's natural, after what happened. She could accept it. ]

[gravings]

[ Despite his careful handling, Gray is skittish like a rabbit, startling automatically under his touch. But she doesn't immediately bolt, instead whipping around to look at his face — and a passing familiarity strikes her too, mostly because she recognizes his fluffy beard among the clean-shaven ranks of the Kenoma Aions. It's more of a wild bush now, though.

She backpedals sharply to put a single step between them, worry writ all the way across her face... for herself, but also for him, as unkempt as he is. Even though she hardly knows him, the rough fog of drink is heavy all around him. She's amazed he has the wherewithal to be concerned for her. It probably speaks more for his character than if he were in good shape.

She stares at him for longer than strictly appropriate, taking in his appearance and demeanor with a soft intensity. When she finally speaks up, her voice is quiet, tentative. ]

... I'm lost. [ She admits it readily. ] Would... you be able to help me?

[baltimores]

[ Shit, but it hurts him to see how much he's hurt her. He doesn't know what to do with this level of emotional pain; it's so rare that he experiences it, and normally when he does, he solves it by doing... this. Disappearing on a bender for days at a time, however long it takes or until someone comes to collect him. He wants to just pull right back up to the bar, take that drink she'd denied him, get another; he can't.

He has no idea what he's supposed to do but follow her, feeling her pain with his own coming up to meet it, exacerbate it, helpless.

Her voice startles him at first, and then his heart sinks further. She thinks he's mad at her...

Fuck.

Amos is silent for a long moment, standing behind her, and he's pretty sure he's never felt this shitty in his life. When he speaks, his voice is rough but quiet. ]

I'm not mad at you.

[ How could he be... shit. It's grief he's feeling, not that he knows it; either way, none of it's for him. All of it's for her. Everything he's put her through, from forcing her to experience the worst moments of his life alongside him to threatening her to this. To having inadvertently made her think this is all her fault. Maybe he really does need to go back, get some real food, get some real sleep. Maybe it really is time.

But first, he needs to apologize, doesn't he. ]

I'm sorry. Everything I put you through... I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.

[ That's what's killing him. Not a whole lot else. Whatever it is she wants from him now, he'll do it, as if that'll help make things up to her. As if that's possible. ]

[epiprocta]

[ ... aah, so that's what it was. That's why the gross feeling sitting heavy in his chest had felt so familiar. It's the same feeling he'd been trying to ignore the whole time he was speaking to Eustace and trying to ignore the mess that had been made of his ears, trying not to think about the fact that he'd been the one to get Eustace started down the path of infection.

It's guilt -- even if he doesn't really want to think about it that way.

Gen takes another slow sip of his drink, mulling his words over for a moment before putting his glass down. ]

Yeah, well. I'm fine, so.

[ Is he fine? -- he is. He tells himself he is. He has to be.

And while he can't mask the slightly forced quality to his words as he says that, Gen forges on quickly to distract from any tension in his voice; he raises a hand to pick at one of the pale strands of his hair, frowning at it like it's really the crux of the matter here when they both know it's not. ]

Dunno why it made my hair like this, but it'll probably go away in a bit ... if not, I can dye it, or whatever. It's not a big deal.

[lifespanned]

[ She slows, turning to face him again, lip quivering. Oh. Oh. Did he really think she would blame him for all of that, after she was the one who had cruelly excavated it from his mind? The tears keep running down her face, unbidden, her expression crumpling up the more he goes on. His grief and self-loathing are so heavy, she wants to be rid of it as soon as possible. For the both of them.

So, she just smacks him once in the chest with her purse, making an indignant, woeful sound, a choked sob. The hit is way too light to truly be malicious - it's almost comical. ]

You're so stupid!!

[ It's all she can think to say at first, now actually crying in earnest, fingers wound tight around her handbag. ]

I don't care about that... and you didn't make me do anything...

[ Because... she really didn't care. Maybe it's the almost dying four or five times, the seeing her parents killed in front of her, the blood already on her hands that allows herself to at least believe that she could look past everything she saw in his head. Perhaps the memory was more graphic than anything she'd personally experienced herself (the violence part, at least), but she could trick herself into believing she was desensitized to it all. It was horrible, yes. And traumatic. But Amos hadn't put her through that— the Innocence had, and she'd willingly gone in there to pull him out. She'd known what she could potentially be getting into. He had it worst of all, from her point of view, since at least she'd only experienced it second hand. ]

Why do you think I tried to stop you?! I didn't want you to be alone after...

[ She trails off. Look at what failing to stop him did. As before, it's not a guilt over what she'd done that plagues her— it's guilt towards how everything played out in the end. If she'd just come up with some way to stop him, maybe things wouldn't be this way. ]

[baltimores]

[ He's pliable enough, recognizing that Barnaby's just here to hang out, so sure, Amos will move along according to his whims easily. Not like Barnaby's capable of hurting him, not like he's someone Amos has hurt, like back in Venera.

... The thought of that place, of everything he'd done there, rises up, twisting in his gut; Amos frowns, looking around for a second before Barnaby's words bring him back to earth. That's the whole point of— He's running from his problems, Barnaby's helping him do that, it's fine, he's okay. Any looks of queasiness are gone pretty quick as Amos eyes the water before him, takes a drink of it.

... Eh. It's fine. He can afford to take a break now, get something else later.

He furrows his brow at the suggestion of food like it's one of the most difficult questions he's ever faced in his life, and he really, really needs to concentrate on it — so much, that Barnaby's offer of paying for it goes right over Amos' head. He's been getting plenty of shit for free the past few days, not like it really matters... ]

Meat. [ Yeah, yeah, okay, that's a good answer. That sounds good to him. ] Anything meaty as fuck. None of the soy crap I had to eat back up in space... something, you know, fucking real. That grew natural, not in a fucking vat.

[ God, that sounds good. And it's actually possible here. Amos settles further back into his chair, looking up and around them again. Where'd they end up? Eh... doesn't really matter, he'll find the next place after this one easily enough. ]