Re: [Log: Gym-to-be, Marta and Holly]
She had tried to ask. No arguments there. And he really didn't want this to be a thing about his demons, because, come on? He was pretty sure most people would just kinda look at him like he was nuts if he clued them in on what lived beneath Repose. And the others? They'd freak the fuck out, and he was pretty sure Sunny would be of the 'freak the fuck out' variety. What else... he could tell her he got zapped the fuck home and lost his shit for an entire night? And that he kinda couldn't fucking stop thinking about it? But that would lead to some discussion that was bad too, somehow. So, right, yeah, no. Onward. And he listened when she said she wanted the best for her daughter. He nodded. He didn't have kids, right? But he thought that was a good thing, the best thing. "Knowing you, in some capacity, is probably gonna be best, right?" He asked, though he knew that the answers was absolutely yes. Even if things went to shit, it had to better to know where you came from, right? Even if it didn't matter to the kid now, well, the kid would grow up someday. But he left it there; he had a feeling he'd done enough damage for the day.
"Yeah. I wonder what the therapy's like for 'lots freaks me out.' If you figure it out? You'll be fucking rich. Remember the little people, yeah?" It was a deliberate joke. Light, trying to get shit back on track. Not quite deadpan, but on the edge of deadpan. Okay. Grounded. All-fucking-good. Nothing to see here. And, look, the pot? Helped. And it wasn't some addictive shit, despite what the Republicans thought, so, yeah. All good.
And, yeah, there was enough left over. "Thanks for the food, seriously. You didn't need to. I'm good. Just, try not to work too hard selling oxygen and sunlight this afternoon, yeah?" That last bit was wry, sardonic. Selling oxygen and sunlight, that would always fuck with his head.