Video

[anewlanguage]

You know, Dean? Dean, you might be right. Maybe half right.

[Some six hours after Barbara's post, Cain is completely stinking drunk. But he's also feeling more sociable, and between swigs or statements he hums a song, occasionally mumbling the lyrics.]

...Hit her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine...

I'm not rethinking stopping being a pacifist, but I oughta say I'm feeling like doing target practice, and the boat's not real steady under my feet, you get what I mean. So hurry on down, clear out my gun cache.

Knives, too.

[He takes a healthy swallow from the bottle.]

dreadful sorry, Clementine...

[The feed cuts about halfway through that chorus

Comments

[surfaceshine]

What the fuck are you talking about?

[He doesn't know about how Cass connects to Cain; what he knows is people are killing people, this asshole has danger written into him, and now he's drunk and singing about Clementine and calling him out on the network.

He's still worn through and tired, but he will still put someone in the ground.]

[text/private]

[routemistress]

he is very drunk and his daughter just vanished

other Dean used to be his warden

it would be a great favour to me if you played along and I always pay my favours back <3 <3

[text/private]

[surfaceshine]

play along HOW

[text/private]

[routemistress]

just try not to get in a fight with him, idk.

other Dean wasn't any more of a soothing type than you but they were good together.

just help me stand each side of him keeping the casualties low till he calms down?

[text/private]

[surfaceshine]

why would I do that

[text/private]

[routemistress]

i'll owe you a favour.

and be really bloody grateful.

please?

[text/private]

[surfaceshine]

I'm not pretending to be his warden

[text/private]

[routemistress]

no, no need to do that, just come hang around and be Dean.

there may be singing.

[text/private]

[surfaceshine]

I'm not your Dean

I'm sorry

[text/private]

[routemistress]

thank fuck you aren't. he was bff with Cass and he'd have been a colossal arse about this.

just come.

[text/private]

[surfaceshine]

I'm not singing

and no promises on fighting

[anewlanguage]

I'm talking about hell. What else would I be thinking about after all those sunny conversations with you, huh?

[He snarls a bit into the words but, despite that, can't help but be glad to see him]

[surfaceshine]

[He's not exactly calmer. He's still on edge. But...]

Way I hear it told, you've had more conversations with me than I have with you.

[anewlanguage]

Not if you consider the warden you to be a different person. And I do. And I think you do, too.

[surfaceshine]

I do. But I also know that when your heart's pumping more booze than blood, the distinctions get a little blurry.

[anewlanguage]

Yeah they do a bit. But tell the truth, you look nothing like the Warden Dean to me right now. Your body language, it's like comparing Chinese and Portuguese.

[surfaceshine]

[This actually seems to assuage him a little. He doesn't understand it, of course, but he does understand that he is not the same person as the Dean that Iris tells him had anything to do with Cain.]

You hurt anyone today? Before deciding to make your weapons cache into a yard sale?

[And jesus holy christ is he tempted, but he stays where he is.]

[anewlanguage]

No. [He eyes a gun, shakes his head]

That's right you wouldn't know wouldja, I was a pacifist when I came on board as an inmate. If I run out of alcohol maybe I'll stop being one, go back to busting heads for the 'good of the ship', but right now, fuck it all.

[surfaceshine]

Apparently not.

Is this your bullshit way of seeing if there's anyone that will stop you?

[anewlanguage]

Stop me from what? Punishing my liver? I don't care how drunk I am, someone tries to tell me what not to drink, I'm shooting to kill. ...Or maim.

[surfaceshine]

From killing someone, seeing as how you're throwing around all those threats.

[anewlanguage]

...Oh. [It's such a habit to threaten, to snap and snarl, when he's drunk.]

I might could kill the right person sure, but doubt it. Don't think he's even on the ship anymore. You drop by I promise: I won't shoot you. Good?

[surfaceshine]

Not me I'm worried about.

[Both grim certainty and a genuine lack of caring if he does get shot. As long as it kills him, he doesn't honestly give a shit.

But.]

I'm three doors down from you. Be there in a minute.