[ Alan stares at her through the cell bars, watching her. Taking in all of her features all over again. The red hair. The greenish eyes. The way her jaw slides to one side when she talks or is thinking. He sees the Director standing there, but he also sees Jesse. The way her eyes have lit up makes Alan feel warmer, as if he's being bathed in the light from them, even though the cell is dark.
The cell is dark. It makes Alan's skin crawl, and his gaze shifts to one side as if looking behind him to ensure that there's nothing lurking in the dark with him. When he sees nothing there, he shifts again, returning his gaze to look at Jesse through the bars. ]
Deerfest... Deerfest festivities. [ The words slide off Alan's tongue normally, but the meaning behind them is lost on him. ] There won't be a Deerfest this year, not if- if things keep going the way they are. It's my fault. His fault. [ The cult's fault. But I wrote the cult in, didn't I? Or did he do that? Does it matter? The cult is here.
Alan is about to say something more when Ilmo slams his hand against the bars, causing him to jump almost out of his skin. Jesse might not have moved away from the bars, but Alan's taken a step back. And then the floodgates from the two brothers open, and with each word, it becomes clear that it's having an effect on the writer. One hand slides up to the side of his head, and the other blindly takes hold of the cell bars in front of him.
If you don't put a bullet in him then we will. Alan's hand curls tighter around the bars, turning the skin of his fingers white from the pressure. Put a bullet in me, I'm done. But I can't be done. I have to keep writing. I know what happens if I stop. He gets in. He creates the horror.
His gaze shifts again as some semblance of awareness returns, and he sees the pointed look in Jesse's eyes, and the unspoken question there. When she finds out, what will she think? ]
You're... moving me? It's- It isn't safe. He could come back. Could come to find me, and you'll all be in danger. [ Never mind that the danger never stops, not really. ] Don't you think I should stay here?
[ The sound Ilmo makes as he slams against the cell door causes Alan to jump again. The darkness of the holding cells and his rattled nerves are really starting to get to him. He sees the way that Jesse is looking at him, how she pins him with a direct stare. She's doing something. Planning something. And he needs to go along with it. Luckily for them both, he trusts her. She's shown him he can trust her, and then some.
He ducks his head briefly as another diatribe spills out from Ilmo. And then he hears Jesse's response, another flood of words, and certain words from both of them cause Alan to flinch and recoil. "Shadowed individuals." "He's gonna kill us all." "Humanity carved out." "It's all Mr. Wake's fault." "Now, shut up."
It isn't until he spots the cuffs in Jesse's hand that Alan understands the reason for the look of apology she's giving him. Inwardly, he's shrinking back. Outwardly, he tries to appear unaffected. It doesn't quite work, but he knows what she's doing. It's necessary. He's a danger. The people here don't trust him, and why should they?
With that thought in his head, he raises his hands so she can put the cuffs on him. And at her gesture, he follows her, only occasionally stumbling here and there when uncertainty tugs at his mind. His gaze travels down to where her hand is curled into the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve. How can she touch me? Can't she see the blood? How could she miss it? It's everywhere.
The blood is on his hands and on his face, flecks of it clinging to his beard. Even the briefest glimpses that Alan gets of it is enough to cause a recoil. And just when he thought he couldn't be more traumatized. The stakes are always raising, and the effects on him seem to grow all the time. But he clings to one simple thought: Jesse is here. She'll have a plan. Guidance. She'll know what to do, even if Alan doesn't.
He stays silent throughout the brief exchange with Estevez and Steve. Steve's safe too. Good. As safe as anyone can be, I mean. But then they're moving again, and Alan quietly follows Jesse down the hall. He knows where they're going. He's gone this way before too.
She guides him a few steps more to the couch in the room, and he sinks into it, even though a warning goes off in his mind that he'll get blood on the couch. It's too late for that, most likely. Maybe most of the blood has dried. He sits still as she removes the cuffs, aware of her perusal as she examines his wrists and then looks to meet his gaze.
What now? Another interview? I know she has questions. He tries to smile in return, but it's a ghost of the smiles he's given her before. He's with her, not spiraling too much yet, but it really feels like he's holding on by barely a thread. Maybe talking to her will restore some of those lost threads. She has that effect on him, somehow. ]
Hey. [ At least he can respond, right? Right. ] It's been... it's been a little while. [ His left hand shifts to grasp the sleeve with two fingers, pinching the flannel between them. ]
...You're going to interview me again, aren't you? [ He knows the routine by now. Somehow. ] How many times have we done this? I've- I've kind of lost track.
no subject
The cell is dark. It makes Alan's skin crawl, and his gaze shifts to one side as if looking behind him to ensure that there's nothing lurking in the dark with him. When he sees nothing there, he shifts again, returning his gaze to look at Jesse through the bars. ]
Deerfest... Deerfest festivities. [ The words slide off Alan's tongue normally, but the meaning behind them is lost on him. ] There won't be a Deerfest this year, not if- if things keep going the way they are. It's my fault. His fault. [ The cult's fault. But I wrote the cult in, didn't I? Or did he do that? Does it matter? The cult is here.
Alan is about to say something more when Ilmo slams his hand against the bars, causing him to jump almost out of his skin. Jesse might not have moved away from the bars, but Alan's taken a step back. And then the floodgates from the two brothers open, and with each word, it becomes clear that it's having an effect on the writer. One hand slides up to the side of his head, and the other blindly takes hold of the cell bars in front of him.
If you don't put a bullet in him then we will. Alan's hand curls tighter around the bars, turning the skin of his fingers white from the pressure. Put a bullet in me, I'm done. But I can't be done. I have to keep writing. I know what happens if I stop. He gets in. He creates the horror.
His gaze shifts again as some semblance of awareness returns, and he sees the pointed look in Jesse's eyes, and the unspoken question there. When she finds out, what will she think? ]
You're... moving me? It's- It isn't safe. He could come back. Could come to find me, and you'll all be in danger. [ Never mind that the danger never stops, not really. ] Don't you think I should stay here?
[ The sound Ilmo makes as he slams against the cell door causes Alan to jump again. The darkness of the holding cells and his rattled nerves are really starting to get to him. He sees the way that Jesse is looking at him, how she pins him with a direct stare. She's doing something. Planning something. And he needs to go along with it. Luckily for them both, he trusts her. She's shown him he can trust her, and then some.
He ducks his head briefly as another diatribe spills out from Ilmo. And then he hears Jesse's response, another flood of words, and certain words from both of them cause Alan to flinch and recoil. "Shadowed individuals." "He's gonna kill us all." "Humanity carved out." "It's all Mr. Wake's fault." "Now, shut up."
It isn't until he spots the cuffs in Jesse's hand that Alan understands the reason for the look of apology she's giving him. Inwardly, he's shrinking back. Outwardly, he tries to appear unaffected. It doesn't quite work, but he knows what she's doing. It's necessary. He's a danger. The people here don't trust him, and why should they?
With that thought in his head, he raises his hands so she can put the cuffs on him. And at her gesture, he follows her, only occasionally stumbling here and there when uncertainty tugs at his mind. His gaze travels down to where her hand is curled into the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve. How can she touch me? Can't she see the blood? How could she miss it? It's everywhere.
The blood is on his hands and on his face, flecks of it clinging to his beard. Even the briefest glimpses that Alan gets of it is enough to cause a recoil. And just when he thought he couldn't be more traumatized. The stakes are always raising, and the effects on him seem to grow all the time. But he clings to one simple thought: Jesse is here. She'll have a plan. Guidance. She'll know what to do, even if Alan doesn't.
He stays silent throughout the brief exchange with Estevez and Steve. Steve's safe too. Good. As safe as anyone can be, I mean. But then they're moving again, and Alan quietly follows Jesse down the hall. He knows where they're going. He's gone this way before too.
She guides him a few steps more to the couch in the room, and he sinks into it, even though a warning goes off in his mind that he'll get blood on the couch. It's too late for that, most likely. Maybe most of the blood has dried. He sits still as she removes the cuffs, aware of her perusal as she examines his wrists and then looks to meet his gaze.
What now? Another interview? I know she has questions. He tries to smile in return, but it's a ghost of the smiles he's given her before. He's with her, not spiraling too much yet, but it really feels like he's holding on by barely a thread. Maybe talking to her will restore some of those lost threads. She has that effect on him, somehow. ]
Hey. [ At least he can respond, right? Right. ] It's been... it's been a little while. [ His left hand shifts to grasp the sleeve with two fingers, pinching the flannel between them. ]
...You're going to interview me again, aren't you? [ He knows the routine by now. Somehow. ] How many times have we done this? I've- I've kind of lost track.