Re: Jack/eddie
Because, Edison, sometimes demons are bloody destructive. No, he hasn't. He's loose somewhere, back in London. And yes, I thought about it. I ran into a necromancer at the last town get-together, who reminded me that the cost for one life in return is probably much, much higher. And, as I thrashed out with Cat, while not remotely sober, and as she cheerfully reminded me that I'm an unmitigated asshole, no. Jen and I made each other so miserable we were sick with it, we hated each other as much as we'd felt anything finer for each other and I wouldn't tear down half a dozen lives or trade in my own to give her hers back. So there you have it. I'm not good. I've tried to be less relentlessly selfish.
Because when I came to Repose, I was blind drunk and bought a newspaper. I thought I could keep myself on the straight and narrow that way. Now? Point of pride. I like the thing. I saw some of my worst moments here. Cat bought half the equipment after one meltdown. I've written for the first time, for this paper. It felt, for want of a better word, like a safety net.