d33tached | maskormenace

[ He's trying to help a bro out here!! But okay, okay, it's not like Jesse can't understand D33's severe mistrust of everyone. Makes a lot of sense to him now, given what he saw of the guy's memories. He texts the address of a greasy pizza joint in downtown Heropa. ]

Meet you in 30?

Very well.

[It takes him a bit longer than that - about forty-five minutes or so, half of which is spent considering not showing up. But, eventually, he arrives at the greasy little joint, ducks inside and begins glancing around for Pinkman.]

[ Jesse is slouched at a table, seated sideways on the chair with his arm hooked over the back of it. His other hand resting on the table fidgets restlessly with a packet of sugar, tapping it, spinning it around, twirling it between his fingers. He's itching for a smoke. He's been waiting here for almost half an hour, unable to stop thinking about the shit he saw and felt from D33's life, and he wonders after a while if D33 is actually going to show up.

He's taken to gazing aimlessly around the pizza parlour, wondering if he should contact the guy again, and the moment he hears someone enter, he snaps his attention over to them - and abruptly sits straighter, alert, at seeing D33. ]

Hey. Yo. [ Dropping the sugar packet to the table to wave him over to the table.

Does Jesse look glad to see him? He just might, actually. ]

[Somehow, Jesse's expression only serves to make D33 all the more suspicious, but at least he isn't bolting for the door the second he sees him. Instead, he offers the man a short, stiff nod in greeting and then crosses the room to take a seat across from him in the booth.]

Mr. Pinkman.

[Another stiff greeting-- but he's not really supposed to be calling him that, is he?]

Jesse. Good afternoon.

[ Jesse opens his mouth to correct him as he swings his legs around to sit properly on the booth - Jesse, yo - but D33 beats him to it. Jesse can see how stiff and untrusting D33 is being, and he tries to appear as non-threatening as possible with a small, lopsided quirk of his mouth. ]

Hey, yeah. 'Sup. And yeah, no more of this Mr. Pinkman crap. Mr. Pinkman is my dad, not me.

[ Sooooo not Jesse. So not, at all, ever. ]

[D33 quirks a brow.]

Do you two not share a surname?

[Someone is unfamiliar with this common turn of phrase.]

Uh. Yeah. 'Course. I mean, people call my dad Mr. Pinkman, y'know, on the regular. Only times I ever got called Mr. Pinkman is when I being a shithead in school, or getting in trouble.

Yes, I see.

[He doesn't, really. Calling someone by their last name is just as foreign to D33 as calling someone by any name at all, but it does, at least, seem the more formal way of doing so.

[Then again, he isn't exactly one to argue when a preference is given - not when it comes to names, anyway.]

Jesse, then.

[And now he's stiffening in his seat, glancing awkwardly around the small restaurant. Not exactly the best at "chilling", this guy.]

[ Yeah, Jesse can see how uncomfortable D33 looks. He purses his lips while watching him, contemplative, then leans forward a little with his elbows resting on the table. ]

So, hey. What kinda pizza you like?

[What is the most dignified way to say, "The kind with enough melted cheese to kill a man"?]

It makes little difference to me. [Seriously - pizza is pizza.] I suppose I am rather partial to those with meat included in their toppings.

[If he looked awkward before, he probably looks about ten times more so now - perhaps even a little embarrassed? Something about discussing food just gets him there for some reason. Probably because people's reactions to his ignorance surrounding it is often borderline humiliating.]

'Rather partial'? [ A small grin. He can't help it - the way D33 talks is so... weird. But more than that, he just wants to help D33 ease up a little somehow. So, he leans in a little closer, like he's conspiring with the guy. ] So, like, just meat? And crap loads of cheese?

[D33 wrinkles his nose a bit.]

That's disgusting.

[D33 doesn't want to think of things - especially things he's going to be eating - in terms of "crap loads".

[But, after a quick glance around (what is he even looking for?), he adds:]

I am rather fond of cheese, yes.

[ Rather fond. Oh, D33. Jesse, too, wrinkles his nose, but with a small grin. ]

Cheese is the bomb, yo. Like, seriously, anyone who doesn't like cheese? Is a total weirdo.

[It's a little strange, but Jesse's apparent excitement over the (admittedly, exciting) food does actually help to bring D33 just the teeniest bit out of his shell. That is to say, he responds a little more quickly, a little more easily.]

It is quite something, I must admit. Believe it or not, I hadn't had many an opportunity to sample it before arriving in this world, [Talk about torture, huh?] but it does appear to be quite abundant here.

[Not that he's complaining.]

[ Jesse knows. He knows D33 never got things like cheese, or pizza, or any of the stuff Jesse took for granted. Has always taken for granted. He saw enough of D33's horrifying life to know this for a fact.

He doesn't let that thought show itself on his face, though. Noticing D33 seems a little disarmed by the subject of cheese, Jesse decides to stick with that. ]

Okay, so pizza with extra cheese, then. And bacon. You like bacon?

[D33 nods.]

Yes, of course.

[Bacon. They had had bacon. Even R01 had known some sort of mercy.]

Most any meat would be fine, really.

[D33 is a carnivore if nothing else.]

[ Stretching his hands out so he can tick a list off with his fingers. ]

Okay, so. Bacon. Cheese. Crap loads of cheese. Hot sausage. More cheese. [ Jesse pauses and glances over at the menu board, while fidgeting with the finger he's yet to tick off. ] What about pulled pork?

[More nose wrinkling.]

Jesse, can you please stop referring to the amount of cheese as...

That.

[Seriously. Disgusting.]

As for that pulled pork you've mentioned, I'm afraid I'm not familiar.

With pork, of course, just not the, ah...pulled variety. [???]

[ Jesse rolls his eyes, though in a good-natured way. ]

Okay. Butt loads of cheese. Better?

No.

[Stop talking about poop and butts, Jesse, oh my God.]

Goodness, just say "a lot".

Yeah, but - "a lotta cheese". [ He intones this in a mock flat tone. ] As opposed to a butt load of cheese. [ Spreading his hands out for emphasis, his voice way more animated. ] I mean, it's not a literal butt load of cheese; it's not like you're pulling cheese out of someone's butt. It's a figure of speech.

Like, okay, for instance: You tell someone you just want "a lotta cheese", they ain't gonna pile the cheese on, yo, they're just gonna put, like, maybe a bit more on. 'Cause you haven't emphasised that a lot means a lot. You tell 'em you want a butt load of cheese, on the other hand, you've told 'em you mean a lot, meaning they know without you having to explain that you mean serious business with the cheese.

Following me so far?

[D33 only makes it about halfway through Jesse's speech before he's cringing, actually starting to feel nauseous at the mental image he's being given - pulling cheese out of someone's butt. Also, what kind of word is "butt" anyway.]

Jesse, please.

The amount of cheese that we are given means little to me, but I cannot stand to listen to any more of this.

It's disgusting.

[ Jesse slouches back in his seat. A tiny smile of amusement is playing on his lips, though it's not taunting or cruel or like he's enjoying making D33 feel grossed out. The amusement is... bittersweet. The fact that this guy had so much misery in his life - so much that he finds it hard to even chat about dumb stuff that Jesse doesn't think twice about joking and chatting about.

He rolls his eyes - more to try to appear lighthearted for D33's sake, conceding, rather than derisive towards how uncomfortable D33 is. ]

Okay. A lot of cheese. Better?

That's what I asked you to call it from the very beginning.

[He's grumbling, but yeah. That's better.]

Okay, Grinch. A meatlovers pizza with a lotta cheese comin' right up.

[ No heat behind Jesse's words, though. He slides out of the booth, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket, and heads across to the counter. He orders that exact pizza, emphasis on ASS LOADS OF CHEESE, along with two root beer floats. Those are made up while Jesse waits, thumped down in front of him in two large glass beer mugs with straws poking out of them, loaded with ice cream and dolloped with a heap of whipped cream on top.

Jesse returns to the booth, setting his float down and sliding the other one across to D33. ]

Bottoms up, yo.

Edited 2017-11-30 05:53 (UTC)

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