thisavrou_log | we whisper in each others' ears to make diamonds out of dirt.

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we whisper in each others' ears to make diamonds out of dirt.

Who: Ronan Lynch & Jesse Pinkman
When: Shortly after this
Where: A hallway in the Moira
What: Jesse runs into Ronan after a fight.
Warnings: Blood and references to violence.

[Smudged with dirt and soot. Shirt torn and slightly charred. Drying blood smeared across his mouth. Fresh bruise erupting on his cheek. Frankly, Ronan looks like a mess. Not the life-threatening kind of mess, but very much like a boy who's just emerged from a brutal fight with someone of comparable strength, and it's not entirely clear from the looks of him whether he won or lost that fight.

In the end, it doesn't matter. He's sore and concussive and there's a burn on his hip where Kavinsky's literally-flaming fingers wrenched at his jeans. There's no emerging from that fight with any sense of victory. Ronan wants to find the nearest empty room and isolate himself there, away from all questions and concerns.

He thinks he might throw up. He hopes that doesn't happen in this hall. He wishes everything would stop spinning.

And now he's falling.]

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[ Jesse is stowing away a broom on his janitor cart, heaving a glum and fed-up sigh, when he sees from the corner of his eye someone emerging from around the corner down the hallway. He throws a cursory glance towards the person - and stops with a surprised frown at realising it's Ronan. Much more than that, the state that Ronan is in.

He watches Ronan collapse. There's a cynical, asshole part of him that isn't surprised at all that Ronan has finally found himself beaten up. Maybe normally, he'd drop everything and run over to Ronan, all fretful and worried because, really, Ronan is just a kid. Jesse has more than learned his lesson with this kid, though.

While he does abandon his janitor cart to hurry over to Ronan, Jesse comes to a stop in front of him and looks down at him like he's just going to observe rather than actually help. His expression is almost impassive - though actual concern for the kid is given away in how Jesse chews his lip with wider than normal eyes. Shit. He's in a bad way.

Jesse crouches down in front of him. Watches him at eye-level now, still like he's just going to observe rather than help. Still concerned, though, and trying not to show it. ]

Jesus, man. Who'd you piss off this time?

[Ronan, at least, doesn't fall flat on his face. It's a slow-motion kind of fall, the hallway tilting and Ronan with it, so that he mostly slides down the wall and ends up on his knees. The vertigo doesn't end while he's down there, and by the time Jesse walks over, Ronan's cradling his head in his hand. He can barely hear Jesse over the roaring in his ears.]

...Some people just don't take "no" for an answer.

Like you?

[ But even if that comes out cynical, Jesse falls back into silence while pensively chewing on his lip again as he watches Ronan. He should call up someone from medbay. Or take Ronan down to medbay. Somehow, though, Jesse is pretty sure Ronan would put up a fight either way, even with the state he's in.

Jesse stands up to move around to Ronan's side, and he crouches back down beside him. He reaches for Ronan's hand that isn't cradling his head to pull his arm around his shoulders. ]

[Ronan distantly wonders where Jesse got that impression of him, but he's all argued out, so he doesn't ask. He allows Jesse to take hold of him, flinching only out of pain. At the moment, it doesn't matter where he ends up, as long as it's not somewhere Kavinsky can find him alone.]

[ It's a struggle getting both himself and Ronan to his feet, with how short Jesse is next to Ronan and how physically weak Ronan is. Jesse grunts with exertion, gripping Ronan's arm around his shoulder, and only just manages to keep Ronan steady by grabbing his other arm around Ronan's waist.

Like that, he starts leading them both towards the nearest room Jesse can think of, which is his dorm room in the Moro deck just further down the hall. It's a slow, awkward ordeal, Jesse almost half-dragging Ronan along wth him, a hundred questions rattling through his mind.

Thankfully his dorm room is empty, save for the mound of Funyuns piled messily in the corner. He hauls Ronan through the door and leads him across to his free-swinging bottom bunk bed hanging from the ceiling, and boy, is it a struggle trying to dump Ronan's weak ass onto that while the bed swings about. Jesse ends up tipping back onto the swinging bed with him, arm trapped under Ronan, other hand still clutching Ronan's arm around his shoulder. At least he tries to do that as carefully as possible. ]

[Yeah, that's super awkward. Ronan would like to be more helpful, but he's busy doing his very best to avoid vomiting all over Jesse. And the swinging certainly doesn't help.

Being horizontal at least feels a lot better than trying to stay vertical, and after a moment of adjusting to this new position, Ronan rolls over and shoves Jesse's arm out from under him. He throws one leg over the side of the bed to plant a foot on the floor and stop the swaying.]

...Who the fuck designed this piece-of-shit bed?

Edited 2016-11-15 04:08 (UTC)

[ Jesse would have snapped at Ronan to take it easy as his arm is shoved out from underneath him. He bites back the rebuke of concern, though, wasting no time shoving Ronan's arm away from around his shoulders and clambering off the bed. On his feet, he grips the edge of the bed to help steady it. ]

I wonder the same question every time I gotta sleep in the damn thing.

[ He falls silent. He studies Ronan - the ugly bruise welted on his face. The blood caked across his mouth. His pale, exhausted appearance. The singe marks on his torn shirt. ]

...What happened, man?

[Ronan doesn't answer immediately, shutting his eyes until the bed's completely steady, swallowing down iron-tasting bile. When he finally feels oriented, he looks at Jesse again. The full story might be too much for him, but Ronan would like to skip the part where Jesse asks a million questions to pry more information out of him.]

Once upon a time, I told this shithead, "Dude, I'm just not that into you." So he kidnapped my little brother and tried to kill him. Didn't succeed, so the guy killed himself instead. Now we're both here for some reason. And I'm still not into him, so that's a problem.

[Ronan's hand drifts unconsciously to the burn at his hip, like he's trying to cover it up. Kavinsky's touch.]

[ That's... absolutely not an explanation Jesse expects. It's a horrifying explanation, insofar as hearing that the guy who did this to Ronan apparently tried to kill his kid brother. ]

Jesus...

[ As he lets that sink in, Jesse eyes Ronan up and down again, at all his injuries. The guy made a real mess of him. ]

...You got beat up 'cause this guy's gay for your ass? [ And then: ] Who the hell is this guy?

[Ronan hesitates. On the one hand, he doesn't want Jesse involved. On the other hand, he probably deserves a warning.]

Joseph Kavinsky. Hey, you got any hard liquor stashed around here? For the pain, man.

[ Jesse chews his lip, then shakes his head. ]

Got some pot, though.

[ A pause, and then: ]

Think we should get someone from medbay to come up.

[Ronan gives a dismissive wave at the air.]

Fuck that. Just give me the pot.

[ Yeah, Jesse figured as much. He loiters on the spot like he wants to point out that medbay can help him a hell of a lot more than Jesse can. But then he concedes, stepping away from his bed to head across to his dresser. He pulls open a drawer, digs under his clothes which are messily stashed in there, pulls out a baggy of pot and paraphernalia.

Nudging the drawer shut with his knee, he moves across to the desk, where he pulls the chair out and takes a seat. He does a quick, expert job of chopping up some bud and rolling a joint, and he gets back up from the seat a few minutes later to take the joint over to Ronan. He holds it down to him. ]

You're pretty messed up, man. Sure you don't want me to contact medbay?

Jesus, Mom. You've never seen a fistfight before? I got my head knocked around. I'll get over it.

[He yanks the joint out of Jesse's hand and lights it for himself. Ronan isn't overly fond of nonalcoholic substances, but beggars can't be choosers. Taking a hit, he rolls his eyes to the top bunk and exhales shakily. This was nothing. He doesn't need to be upset, because nothing really happened. Kavinsky barely touched him.]

[ With the joint snatched out of his fingers, Jesse doesn't know what to do with his fidgeting hands except stuff them into his hoodie pockets. ]

You also got set on fire, by the looks of it.

[ Maybe that's a slight exaggeration, given Ronan's shirt is singed rather than actually charred, but still. Looks like Ronan had a really close call all the same. ]

[Ronan immediately tugs his shirt lower, as far down his hip as it'll go.]

Yeah. He burned about a quarter of the garden.

...What? How?!

[ His eyes dart down to where Ronan is tugging the shirt lower, and he catches a glimpse of what looks like scalded, red skin. A frown forms on his brow as he peers down at it. ]

Yo... How bad did he burn you?

[Christ. Jesse is worse than Gansey with this shit.]

Barely. He was transformed. Like everyone lately. He could control fire with his hands.

[ 'Barely'. Maybe that's so, but maybe Ronan is also utterly downplaying it. Saying nothing, Jesse watches Ronan for a moment, then he's suddenly heading for the door. He opens it, slips out, and he returns a couple of minutes later with a bucket in tow.

He hooks his foot in the door to shut it behind him, water sloshing in the bucket as he carts it up to the side of the bed. He stoops down and the sound of splashing water fills the room as he plucks up a washcloth that he wrings out. ]

[Ronan's taking another hit from the joint when Jesse walks back in. His eyes drop to the bucket, then travel to the cloth in Jesse's hand, and he lets out a derisive little laugh that turns into a cough around the pot smoke he's exhaling.]

You - You're not gonna give me a sponge bath, are you?

[ Jesse lifts his head to fix Ronan with a flat look, mid-wring of the washcloth. ]

Don't get your hopes up.

Good. I don't feel like breaking two jaws today.

[At least, he hopes he broke Kavinsky's jaw. But he probably didn't.]

[ Ignoring that comment, Jesse stands tall, washcloth in hand. ]

Lift your shirt up.

[ That's commanded with a remarkable amount of authority. Like he's fully anticipating Ronan to give him hell and Jesse is not going to let it faze him. ]

[If the marijuana hadn't made him so pliant, Ronan might put up more of a fight or insist on doing this himself. But he's experiencing a pleasant buzz right now and therefore feeling exceptionally lazy despite the mild threat he just issued. Nonchalantly, he tugs his shirt up to reveal his abs and the splotch of red skin across his hip, where Kavinsky's burning fingers hooked around his jeans. It's not terribly severe. Ronan fought him off quickly.]

[ Jesse had been expecting a fight but when it seems Ronan isn't going to fight him, Jesse takes a single look at the red splotch of skin before he's laying the wet cloth over it; a cold compress. ]

That the only place he got you?

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