Jesse Pinkman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hostage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2016-09-01 01:52 pm
hostage) wrote in maskormenacelogs2016-09-01 01:52 pm
Entry tags:
- harleen quinzel | harley quinn,
- † darlene | n/a,
- † daryl dixon | the angel,
- † haen hithiel | chatterbug,
- † jack | n/a,
- † jesse pinkman | diesel,
- † joel | n/a,
- † kotetsu t. kaburagi | wild tiger,
- † laurel lance | the black canary,
- † mark vorkosigan | peter michael kane,
- † sarah manning | n/a,
- † shinya kogami | n/a,
- † the corinthian | n/a
Too low to dig, I might just touch hell.
WHO: Jesse Pinkman & OPEN
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout September
WHAT: Average day-to-day encounters with Jesse.
WARNINGS: Language, drugs, gore, body horror...
WHERE: Various
WHEN: Throughout September
WHAT: Average day-to-day encounters with Jesse.
WARNINGS: Language, drugs, gore, body horror...
HEROPA - THE PARK ( OPEN )
[Coming off a healing tour of the local hospital's ICU, Jesse heads straight for the park across the street and settles himself on the grass beneath the shade of a willow tree. He's a mess - as he always is after a long round of healing the sick and injured - and doubly so since he's dressed in his rattiest torn jeans and dirty t-shirt combo. He self-reports as homeless on his paperwork, and today he looks the part.
Hands wrapped in gauze from fingertips to shoulder, there's not much Jesse can do while he waits to regenerate. He sprawls out on the grass and stares skyward. Bleeding through his bandages, he probably makes an alarming sight. But he's not unconscious. Just resting.]
NONAH - BEER GARDEN ( OPEN )
[Fresh out of a business meeting with some of his more respectable contacts, Jesse's looking remarkably clean-cut tonight. He's not in a suit, but with his pressed denim jacket and neatly styled hair, he fits in with the young professionals around him. He's not a regular here. He just looks like he could be.
Since he's dining alone, he takes a seat at a communal table around a fire pit and orders one of the fancy overpriced pizzas off the menu, along with the special craft beer the waiter kept pushing on him. His mind isn't really on dinner. He pulls a notepad from his pocket and starts crunching numbers with abstract notes. A few things to jot down before he forgets.]
MAURTIA FALLS - THE STREETS ( OPEN )
[It's the kind of night he used to love. Bass thumping in the club, throngs of revelers bumping and grinding around him, beautiful girls snorting rails off the bar... Nowadays it's overstimulating, and if Jesse could get a headache, he'd have one. Instead the pressure's more discarnate, less tangible, like the air's too heavy. After a few hours, he's having trouble maintaining the necessary smile and the social lubricant of easy conversation. People look to him for charm and entertainment, and when he can't give that to them anymore, that's when it's time to excuse himself.
Stepping out into the cool night air, Jesse swipes a hand across his sweaty forehead before lighting up a cigarette. It's better out here, with the music and shouting muffled behind him. When he exhales, a sigh of relief escapes with the smoke.]
DE CHIMA - THE OFFICES OF PKE ( CLOSED TO MARK VORKOSIGAN )
[Jesse's about five minutes early for their scheduled appointment. The last time they sat down together was in a grimy dive bar, and Mark was going by a different name. This time around, the setting's more professional and so is Jesse. He may not be wearing a tie or carrying a briefcase, but he fits the part of an upstart entrepreneur. He's flying under the radar. That's the whole point of this.
When he's called in, Jesse walks into Mark's office with a notebook tucked under one arm. He smiles as he approaches Mark's desk, offering his free hand.]
Hey. Thanks for seeing me.
Heropa, early September sometime
Did someone finally beat the hell outta you and get it to stick? Or this whole wounded thing a part of some attempt to pretend you ain't a piece of shit?
no subject
I'm a volunteer medic.
[Which, frankly, Daryl can interpret however he wants. Despite everyone's assumptions, Jesse isn't out to prove anything when he does what he does.]
If you're real curious, I'd be happy to hand these over to you.
[The injuries, he means. Daryl surely remembers last time.]
One of 'em was a factory accident. Woulda needed skin grafts. Sound like fun?
no subject
[God damn, it was more frustrating that the guy was actually doing something nice. And clearly not advertising it or milking it the way Daryl'd expect some stupid fucker like him to do. Asshole.
How to spin this and not dance around the point... Oh yeah.
He nodded and shifted his weight so he stood more casually. Tone matching his appearance. As if he were talking about the nice weather they were lucking out on.]
Guess with as much money as you got, you can afford a little charity here and there.
no subject
What money?
[Because there's no money on display here. The clothes he wears to the hospital, especially, are always the rattiest he owns. And he doubts this hick would even recognize a designer sneaker if he was staring at one.]
no subject
[Daryl's eyes moved down and he met Jesse's gaze with a steady stare.]
'I don't have that kind of money, but I know someone who does.' is what I was told.
[He widened his eyes like he was innocent, but didn't break eye contact.]
'Who' I asked.
[And then he said each syllable in a clipped tone.]
'Jesse Pinkman', they said.
[That not-so-sweet smile came back to Daryl and his eyes narrowed.]
Government don't know you're making that kinda cash, do they?
no subject
[Jesse smiles in return, like Daryl just told a joke.]
I didn't even know I was making that kinda cash. Shit. Did whoever it is tell you where I can find it? 'cause I could really use a couple bucks.
no subject
Nope. Just told me they'd be able to 'arrange a connection'. But why deal with a middle man when I got you right here?
[He moved a foot to poke Jesse in the side. Lightly. It wasn't aimed at any obvious bandages or bleeding. Was meant to rock his body a little. Almost playful, even, if anyone was watching.]
Get me the cash I'm looking for and we're square.
no subject
Sounds like somebody was trying to play you. I don't got any cash.
no subject
[He shook his head, confident in this. Or at least confident enough to say it.]
I know when people are playing me. You're tryin' right now. But he weren't. He was tryin' to get me in his pocket and picked the wrong string to pull me in. Figure he's still tryin'. Might let him think he's done it, too. But I need that money first. And you're the one he's gonna come to if I say the word. 'Cause I already named my price and he's admitted he can't meet it on his own.
[Daryl poked at Jesse's side again. Still not trying to hurt him with it. Just kind of annoy him.]
So let's deal.
no subject
[Literally prodding him certainly isn't helping Daryl's case.]
I got no money for you, bud. Maybe you oughta go crawling back to him, since he's the one who promised you some. All that's got nothing to do with me.
no subject
no subject
[Even lying here on the grass, bleeding through his bandages beneath Daryl's shadow, Jesse's not concerned by those threats. The only thing that concerns him is the fact that someone's talking about him with his enemies. And that's a problem to deal with later.]
Like I said, I got no idea who you're talking about, and whoever it is had no right to be promising you something I ain't gonna deliver. So take it up with him.
[Let him reiterate slowly so the idiot can get it:]
No. Money. For. You.
Comprende?
no subject
He needed the money though, and fast. Even with Rosita's contribution, the search for someplace secure for their family, it wasn't going well. Nothing in their price range was big enough or safe enough. That was forgoing having it already repaired.
Getting fed up with the little shit, Daryl took his device out and brought up the text conversation from two months ago. (yes, two full months ago, Dooku was tossing Jesse's name around willy-nilly). Then held it the stupid thing out for Jesse to take and see.]
Why don't you tell 'im that next time you see him. Maybe pass on he shouldn't be making promises he cain't keep.
[He already figured he'd screwed things over with Dooku, what the hell. Might as well fuck things over for the man if he couldn't get what he wanted out of this.]
no subject
Maybe you should tell him.
[Jesse hands the device back with a shrug.]
I barely even know the guy.
no subject
[Daryl didn't believe that for a second. Dooku didn't seem the type to make offers he couldn't hold up even on some level. But he took the device back and shoved it into his back pocket. Then started to walk off, no longer trying to play nice or pretend to be in a good mood.]
You know my price, now, Sunshine. You want me off your back, all you gotta do is pay.
no subject
Get a job, asshole.
[There's a right way to get money from Jesse, and then there's a wrong way. That was the wrong way. But on the bright side, it pointed out a major leak that needs fixing.]
no subject
[Daryl yelled over his shoulder and lifted one hand in the single-finger salute without looking back.]