acatalepsy_rpg | video | dated at the very end of week one

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video | dated at the very end of week one

[The video opens on a patch of dirt, a leg stretched out along one edge of the screen. Next to the leg a number of very small muddy spots map out a connect-the-dots picture that more creative minds - or just anyone who's ever been a bored teenager - might recognize as a sort-of accurate depiction of one particular x-rated body part. A voice, cracking and hoarse like it has to drag itself over gravel to get its words out, starts speaking immediately.]

Hey, you know what makes me-

[His coughing is harsh and wet but it's only a few seconds before it stops. Hank mutters a curse under his breath, just audible, and hacks up a loogie, spitting it so it lands just so off the end of the art in the dirt next to him. The dirt there goes wet and dark, and with this artistic rendering of a drop of splooge, his masterpiece is complete. When he leans back the camera's in a different position; in the opposite corner from the dirt the screen shows the massive head of a Saint Bernard, taking up a good part of the screen and the majority of Hank's lap.]

You know what makes me feel better when I'm feeling like shit? Bitching about it. Let's bitch, guys. Tell me how shitty you've got it right now. It's not like anyone's got anything else to do here, right? I mean, not unless someone can get this big furry boulder to unglue itself from my lap. I'd have something to do if he'd just play. Look, watch this, it's pathetic.

Hey, Sumo. Fetch.

[Anyone with motion sickness might want to look away; the screen jerks around wildly as the arm with the camera on it moves to grab a rock and hold it in the air like Hank's going to throw it. Then the screen goes still again as Hank has to lean forward to cough, his dog's big, placid face now taking up the whole view. Sumo gives a single low whuff, lifts his head, and apparently settles himself right over the camera because the screen goes dark. There's the muffled sound of Hank cursing, trying to say Sumo's name between coughs, and then nothing as Hank manages to work his other hand under Sumo's jaw and shut the recording off.]

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Eh, enough to keep me busy. It's what people do, they wanna vent. I mean, not you, I guess, but people.

[Firo can't argue with that--and, really, he can be quite the complainer himself, as long as it's a completely inconsequential issue. Potential plague? That's a bit too important.]

And not you either, if you're just here to be the listener.

[He doesn't bother hiding his curiosity; the statement is just as much a question.

Jurisdiction or not, he's a bit concerned about a cop wanting to hear people spill their guts while spilling nothing himself. And then more than that, he's just plain curious.]

Hey, I wouldn't say no to getting a good round of bitching in myself, but like I said, I've had enough of my own problems. Why, you wanna be my shoulder to cry on?

[Not that he's going to actually cry, or spill anything that really matters. He and Firo are thinking the same, in that way. It's just that the whole large-scale flu thing doesn't feel that important to him. It's just a shitty thing that's happening.]

Yeah, no thanks. One of your new friends can help with that--even things up between you, you know.

I know you can't really do anything here, but do they know they're spilling their guts to a cop?

[Hank snorts, which slides into a laugh, which kills the next half-a-minute or so with a coughing fit that ends in a groan. Despite that Hank still manages to sound amused, even though the rasp in his voice has kicked up a couple notches.]

Jesus, kid, don't make me laugh like that. What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do? Like, really?

[Really and genuinely. That wasn't sarcasm. He wants to know.]

That somethin I gotta disclose now before I say a word to anyone?

[That cough sounds nasty enough that even Firo, who has no love lost for Hank, is raising both eyebrows in... not concern, exactly, but some distant cousin of it.]

You're gonna kill yourself laughing like that. Anyway, I just meant... being what you are, it seems weird that you're doing this stuff, especially when it's one-sided. Of all the distractions you could pick.

[Honestly, it's less about Hank being a cop and more why he chooses this for his distraction and opens it to people he might not even know.]

[Well, killing himself laughing is no reason to turn off his sense of humor. But Firo's next sentence distracts Hank pretty completely from saying that.]

'What I am'? Fuck, what does that mean? I turn into something when I got here and didn't notice?

Are you too sick to think straight? I just said it, you're a cop.

And cops don't talk to people unless they're about to arrest them, I gotcha.

[Hank nods, doing his best to sound enlightened - as enlightened as possible, like a guy who just learned something big and is promising to pay attention to it.]

Just like you don't talk to guys unless you're about to bust their kneecaps, right?

[Not that the kid gave any real details about what he did back home, Hank's mostly taking a shot in the dark there, but that part of the whole gangster thing's well known enough that he thinks it probably makes his point.]

Edited (forgot an icon) 2018-09-10 21:04 (UTC)

That's not what I meant.

[He sighs and lets his head lean back against the tree he's been sitting against.]

I just mean that if you take a guy who's used to dragging information outta people and then he goes offering to listen to people getting nothing in return... anybody'd be suspicious.

[At least in Firo's totally normal opinion.]

So far?

[Hank smiles real wide, his tone faux-bright.]

You're the only one. But hey, let no one say I don't listen to the will of the people. You get a, a petition or something telling me what I can and can't say to the good people of whereverthefuck, you just bring it to me and I'll see what I can do. Okay? That sound good?

[It's been a long time since Hank's addressed any official department complaints, but he thinks that's how it works.]

What? A petition?

[God damn it, Hank, he just wanted to point out that he thinks you're weird!]

I didn't mean you have to stop.

Then why did you say anything in the first-

[He stops, then leans back and nods to himself, his voice getting that enlightened tone again.]

Oh, I get it. You're just bitching. You decided to spill your guts to a cop after all, it's just, what you wanted to spill em about was me. Took me a minute but, you know, let it all out.

[He twirls his hand in front of the camera, encouragingly.]

It's not good to let all that stuff build up, you know. Twists you up on the inside. Makes you constipated.

Hell no--!

[And now it's Firo's turn to throw himself into a coughing fit, though this instead from the force of his outburst than laughter.

When he recovers with one final wheeze, he glares at the screen. Where was he?]

I'm not spilling my guts to you. I'm just talking about what you're doing!

Oh yeah, I see that. I mean it kinda looks like your body wants you to spill your guts a little bit but hey, don't let me tell you what to do. Us detectives, we heard it all, we're real good at listening to whatever, so if you wanna just talk to me in a real angry way, feel free.

If you're inviting me to do it, then that's the last thing I wanna do.

[Which may have been Hank's plan all along. God damn it.]

And you look just as sick as me. Haven't you ever heard of not throwing stones if you live in a glass house?

[Maybe the comment about spilling his guts wasn't making fun of him for coughing, but Firo's not usually a "give the benefit of the doubt" kind of guy.]

[Firo's maybe smart to reserve his doubt. Its benefit would absolutely have been wasted.]

Well if you want to listen to my problems all you gotta do is say the word. Maybe I don't know what we're throwing stones about, but that sounded like an invitation.

[He sighs, which results in a rasp, which then leads to him clearing his throat. ...Moving right along.]

All right, if you wanna give somebody dirt on you-- [Said wryly. He's joking! Probably!]--be my guest. Hit me with it.

[He's really more like Hank than he'd care to admit, at least in this respect. The problems of a stranger are an excellent distraction from his own--he can always tell himself someone has it worse.]

Welp.

[Hank folds his arms, staring up at the sky and gathering up his woes.]

Let's see. There's not a single thing to do in this stupid goddamn place except sit here and cough my lungs up while everyone tells me what great, wonderful shit we're supposed to be out there doing, I can't fuckin sleep, the no-lunch thing is fucking me up, who the hell doesn't eat lunch? I can't ever remember to get to the stupid kitchen at the right time. And wine? What the fuck is that shit, a glass of wine with every meal, I feel like I should be holding my fuckin pinky out every time I drink it. And like, look, have you ever had a big dog lay on you for a long time? Do you know the places I'm sweating? Sumo has no idea how warm he is, and he doesn't have a couch so he's been trying to sleep with me, and it is not warm enough for that. Or maybe that's the fuckin fever, but like, kid, I need so many showers.

[He can go on. He might go on, if somebody doesn't stop him.]

[A small smile flickers onto his face at the wine complaint; he hears you, pal.]

Setting aside that some of that was way more information than you should ever tell anybody--

[He doesn't need to know about your shower habits.]

--I'm working on a way to fix the wine thing, as long as you're not too picky about how it looks or tastes.

Me? Nah. I can learn not to be. I mean, we do what we must, right?

[Hank leans toward the camera, looking distinctly interested.]

So you're making some kinda still?

[He has no idea what goes into that, how hard or easy it might be with what they have around here. Honestly, he's never given a shit about how all that's done. Suddenly, for some mysterious reason, he finds himself really invested.]

...I've still gotta figure that out. That's phase 2. I might have to wait until we go to another place that's got the equipment to make something like that.

[It's the delicate glassware and tubing he's worried about--he'd have to dig into Barnes's memories to make sure he's doing it right, and he's not so sure he could find that stuff lying around at the temple.]

What I've got now's more of the pruno kind. You know, stick it all in a jar and let it ferment. My first batch's already done.

Huh. Well, what're you taking for payment? I mean, I'm assuming money's not worth shit here.

What've you got? Did you come here with anything?

[Hank raises his eyebrows.]

You met me when I got here, man. You saw what I came here with. I came here with my boxers, my dog, and my hangover. The first two aren't for sale, and it kinda feels like we're all feeling the last one. And you said you're not an animal guy, so I can't even bribe you with Sumo's company.

[He gives a 'what can you do' sort of grimace, shrugging.]

I don't know, is there anything you want done? Within reason?

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"I know what you are" "Say it"

XD

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