Work Friends Are Like Prison Friends [October | Closed to the Ocularum]

[restingslasherface]

Who: Agent Jean & Members of the Ocularum They Don't Know Well Yet

What: Post-Gala Follow-ups & Allaying Concerns

When: Early October

Where: YOU pick

Warning(s): Honestly hard to list but, y'know, Jean Things. Violence, corporate exploitation, discussions of brutality, depression & self-loathing, absolutely bonkers capitalist bullshit


Those members of the Ocularum who have recently joined, or whom Jean does not yet know well, find handwritten letters delivered to them. The writing itself is neat and professional, though at some difficulty; the thick paper bears the marks of scouring sand for the ink, indentations where spelling mistakes or sloppy handwriting from picking up speed has been destroyed and replaced with something the author deems more suitable. Still.

Esteemed Peer,

You may recognize me from the recent meeting. I must apologize for not being at my best during that time; I offer no excuses. However, given the state of recent events, and especially rising tensions in Pumpkin Hollow, I am moved to correct my previous state of negligence. It would be my privilege, if you are amenable, to meet and discuss at a time or place of your choosing and explain whatever happenings at the Gala you deem in need of explanation, and answer questions you may have as to my intentions, qualifications, and background. Food and drink can be provided; time of day or inconvenience of locale are no object. Please send your reply via letter, telephone, or sending stone to:

Agent Jean of Hyrule (pending), Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force

Comments

[ss_buttcrack]

You know, the way his mouth keeps flapping open and closed, he's starting to look like a fish out of water here.

"Okay, you know what? That's on me. That's on me..."

Another pause while he pulls his derailed train of thought back onto the rails.

"I think the bigger question I should be asking is why are you seeing so many people getting killed by anyone??"

[restingslasherface]

"Ah. Right, civilian science...your home has peace, at least sometimes..."

Vaguely, almost as if dazed, Jean wanders towards that window, with the sketches of Parade Day. Their eyes close softly.

"...When you are born poor, you kill your neighbor to get rent money, or the monsters eat you at night. If you get a respectable career, you can kill strangers instead, maybe have a family, maybe have a marriage. If you move into a Nest, work for a corporation, people like me do your killing for you, and you pretend your hands are clean. The law does care, Commander. It cares to ensure that each death is up close, personal, and in agony. Firearms regulations mean one bullet costs more than a home, but not one line of one law would have ever punished my death."

"That's why."

[ss_buttcrack]

Any last traces of mirth evaporate from Crichton's expression. He looks at Jean with a hollow haunted knowing that says better than words ever could how much he understands what he's being told. It chills him to the core of his being, and at the same time, it fills him with boiling rage that makes him want to scream. How many lives have to go through a blender before such horrors stop?

"You never knew a day of peace in your life, did you?"

[restingslasherface]

Slowly, Jean shakes their head; they wipe at one eye with the back of their hand, a careful gesture; have your wide travels in the universe suggested to you, Crichton, that the way they bend their fingers towards their palm might be to keep claws away from their face.

A shaky breath.

Two.

"...In any event, those were the circumstances that made me...useful, in terminating the hostile Manager. I am given to understand that my intended new home in Hyrule will require similar, for a short while. The situation there is much more friendly to hard power. I am, hahaha, I am...I feel a bit lost with these investigations."

[ss_buttcrack]

He almost doesn't want to keep watching. It feels awful to see Jean wiping at their eyes and not have anything to say, or any way to make it better. Especially when he can extrapolate so much from such a small gesture. But, if Jean is much like Aeryn used to be, Crichton worries that drawing more attention to it would only sting more.

"We don't always get a choice about what makes us who we are. But here, at least, we can choose how we want to use what we've got. No sense letting it go to waste, right? I can help you. Can't promise I'll be any better with investigations than you are, but the saying goes that two heads are better than one."