front desk moderators (adjacent_mods) wrote in helladjacent, @ 2017-06-02 15:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !jumps: the good place, character: gretel |
Who: Michael and Gretel
What: Round two
When: Day Three
Where: The Office
Warnings: It's another Michael scene...
Status: Complete
Michael didn’t ask anyone to come to him. He merely left the door open, when he said he was able to, and let anyone who wanted wander in. He didn’t expect to see anyone more than once, but it also wasn’t a surprise.
“Gretel! I hope it’s alright that I don’t stand up. I was just finishing up and well, I am really excited. Things are really looking good. You know the Hotel tried to put in a jukebox? A jukebox. Believe me, I put a stop to that. It truly is an agent of chaos. Complete chaos! Please, have a seat.”
He smiled warmly at her and straightened the front of his shirt.
Gretel didn't say anything about it, but only barely managed to keep her expression from showing any reaction to the strange being’s confession that he couldn't stand up because he was 'excited’. Less mature people may have chuckled or smirked; Gretel still saw him as a manifestation of the hotel itself, and given how many times it seemed to intentionally humiliate her, she felt a little sick to her stomach.
She really didn't want to take a seat, either.
“I'd rather stand, thanks,” she said after swallowing the initial discomfort. She'd been through and seen so much worse than this, before and after the hotel, but her panic drive still blared loud whenever she looked on Michael's face.
“What are you 'finishing up’ with?”
“Cosmic stuff. A few permits. Anyway!” Michael clapped his hands and rubbed them together, “How can I help you?”
Permits. Right. Gretel's expression didn't change, save for the press of her tongue against the back of her closed teeth.
“I would like you to give Negan his voice back.”. To the point and clear, but also careful not to sound on edge. She exhaled through her lips in the pause that followed, letting her shoulders drop. “I realize his language is ...colorful, but it's not right- removing a person's choice of language. You say you're here to make things right…”
“Oh, Gretel. You have such a good heart. I can see why you’ve survived this long. Other people might have gone insane and walked into the fog by now…”
He sighed warmly as he regarded her carefully.
“Negan will have his voice back once he’s back home. I promise. To be honest, he kind of scares me. Me! Did you know he knocked my cactus plant off my desk? I think he was probably trying to threaten me.”
Michael shuddered a little. “Anyway, he can still continue to make all the choices he wants! It's not like I took the concept of language itself away from him. I'm not a monster. He's just so angry and I thought a little quiet might help him.” Michael smiled at Gretel.
Something about that last statement felt like a deliberate warning, to Gretel- maybe even a threat, despite the kind-looking smile. It put a thin layer of lead in her stomach, and reminded her to choose her words very carefully.
“He threatens everyone- I wouldn't take it personally,” she began calmly, folding her hands at her front so they didn't twitch. Hansel would be threatening Michael, too, she had no doubt. He might not even bother threatening- just try to shoot him in the face. Gretel knew that wouldn't end well for her brother, either.
“Waiting until he's home isn't good enough,” she continued. “And if not for him… for me. If we are being sent back, these are the last days I have with him.” She said it evenly, matter of fact, but there was no removing all the emotion in her voice, and she knew it. Hopefully, it would help.
Michael rested an elbow on his desk and cradled his head in his palm.
“Wow. You are absolutely right! Gretel, I want to help you! Right!” Michael nodded. “There’s just one problem…..”
Michael got up and opening a small cabinet, set a scale down on his desk. “Cosmically, I can't just give Negan his voice back. I'm a Good Place architect and let's just say, Negan’s not really Good Place material, putting it mildly. And-- as you pointed out-- he threatens everyone. Not only that but he really makes people feel bad. So-- if you find something to replace his voice, that's more significant, I should be able to give it back without disrupting the balance. Let’s see…. For Negan’s voice let's use… this black feather.”
Michael put the feather on the scale and it slammed the side it was put on downward.
“Okay, now anything you offer or collect from yourself or the other guests will be represented by a white feather, and when we get the scale balanced again, we can make that trade!”
Gretel watched and listened, and with each word out of his mouth the lead in her gut thickened. Her brows pinched above her nose as she looked from the corrupt scale to his face, and just for a brief moment, a fraction of unperceivable time, she thought she saw something even more disturbing than her ideas about who or what he really was.
“Balance…” she pegged him with a look that reflected what she thought she just saw. “You took something from him without a trade- how is this balance?”
“Oh, humans. Taking Negan’s voice made things better, on a cosmic scale. So to give it back we have to maintain that level of… let's call it better-ness. I know! For a start, you could ask Negan to give up his affair with Charlotte! Also make sure he gives up the naked pictures of her on his PDA. I mean, it's not like you should have to give up everything. He should have to contribute too,” Michael suggested helpfully.
The lead lining her stomach suddenly became a canon ball, and it showed in her eyes, if not in her face, which she tied her best to keep level. Gretel didn't speak right away- she couldn't. For a moment longer than usual, any capability she had for forming words evaporated.
She pressed her lips together tightly, unable to stop her eyes from closing against a burn she wasn't at all prepared for. It felt like anger, at first, then leveled off into something much more familiar: humiliation.
Gathering herself took a few hard heartbeats, her clasped hands tightening around d each other as if grasping something to keep afloat, but she swallowed it down. She focused all of it on the Thing smiling 'helpfully’ at her, and opened her eyes.
“First, I'm not human,” she said, keeping her voice from wavering. “So if this is about 'betterness’ take my voice. It's my choice to make.”
Michael sighed.
“I don't know how I can't explain this any more clearly. Your voice is important but….” Michael held a white feather and placed it on the other side of the scale. The scales didn't move. “You don't threaten anyone or make people feel poorly about themselves. So… you're going to have to dig deeper than that.”
Now, there was a real flash of anger in her eyes, and they locked on Michael with a much clearer understanding of what he was- she was seeing it more every time something else came out of his mouth.
“What do you want,” she asked, low. “I've killed hundreds of dark witches in my world, protected thousands of people brought here from too many horrors to count, and you're saying the weight of my willing sacrifice doesn't compare to his 'making people feel bad’?” Her tone was still level, but it carried an edge of accusation- like she knew his game. “Your explanation of 'cosmic balance’ is ludicrous- so why don't you tell me what you want from me.
“You see? I didn't expect you to actually understand. You, in all your goodness and the good works you've done, giving up your voice for a few days to help the man you love-- that's good! But Negan, he's not very good. Now if you were a serial killer or a cannibal and were willing to give that up! Why, then we’d have something!”
Michael nodded. “All I want to to help you, the way you’ve helped other people. To help everyone in this hotel. But you always have a choice. Everyone gets to make their own choices.”
“Nothing about this place has anything to do with choice- except how to exploit it,” Gretel countered, doing her best to ignore the kick in the gut that was Michael using the L-bomb. “Which is exactly what you’re doing to me, right now. I have been here too long to do the same thing to anyone else- so you have me, offering whatever I have to give, in exchange for something you took. If you want more from me, say it.”
Michael looked confused. “Well, um, you could try offering more things? We’ll just add it to the scale and see if the balance shifts,” he offered helpfully. “Whatever you want, Gretel. I’m here for you.”
Gretel stared at him, feeling the heaviness in her core slowly churn. No longer did she hide the raw edge in her eyes; she felt like she was seeing him as clearly and horribly as possible.
“Of course you are-” she breathed low, every sickening emotion he’d dragged up in a five minute conversation thick in her voice. Though her legs felt like they were full of sand, she managed to get them to move; Gretel left the office without another word.