paradisa | FIFTH SHOT

Entry tags:

joel,
tess

FIFTH SHOT

[She and Joel have been at each others' throats all day, but things have settled down in the evening –– not because things are resolved, but just because one needs to take a break to maintain one's sanity.

After a nausea-inducing round of vodka and cake, Tess' new poison of choice is a hot shower.

Tess steps out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, hair clipped up to keep it off her shoulders, clad in a loose tank top and pajama pants. Her wound is freshly poked at but healing, the striations of her musculature disappearing under tissue regrowth. She still feels like some sort of freak science experiment and she still steps away when anyone comes too close, but she's alive, and she's lucky to have even that. If the Infection really is gone, then it's nothing short of a miracle.

If only everything else about Paradisa could be that great.

To cross the living room to her bedroom, she needs to pass by Joel, and passing by Joel is risking another argument. Tess, however, is not going to do any sneaking around: that just isn't her style, especially not with Joel, and if he wants another round, so be it.

So when she walks out, she gives him that look. The got anything new to say? look.]

Learn anything else new about this place that you care to share?

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[Her shoulder –– her good one –– brushes against his.

Ellie. Ellie first. Tess has accepted that they aren't handing her over to anyone any time soon, that Ellie won't be traded for a cache of guns or their redemption or even to save the whole damn world. What would be the point of fighting it? It's out of her hands, and Ellie's an alright kid. There's no point in dwelling on it.

But christ, Tess is not used to sharing. Not in a dog-eat-dog world.]

That's alright, Tex... I never meant to suggest she take a hike or anything, you know that. [Hopefully, anyway. Is she jealous of a fourteen year old? Fuck.] But I also don't know her all that well, and you know I'm not the best with kids, so you've gotta be patient with me, too.

[He does feel bad about putting her in this spot, but it's an honest relief to hear that she wants to stick by him through it. She doesn't have to-- they'd never formalized any of this in the first place and here Joel was bringing unfamiliar baggage to her doorstep.

Back in their world, asking people to go out on a limb for you to this extent could get you justifiably killed. They were partners, and that was different, but it was still a huge responsibility to pass on, to ask someone to watch more than one back.]

Yeah, I know. You can take your time. She's an understanding kid, considering how we got along at first. [He clears the back of his throat.] 'appreciate it, Tess. I hope you know.

Considering she's never said a peep to me about my willingness to trade her for a pile of guns, I'd guess she's understanding.

[It's a weak joke, but a joke nonetheless.]

I know you do.

[Just don't ever cut me out, she thinks, but she knows she doesn't have to tell him that part. She looks at him with a thin smile and a curt nod.]

She faster at getting under your skin than I was?

[Heh, it's good enough. He flashes her an amused look for it, a complicated one, but Joel trains his gaze on a faraway point shortly after. A pause stretches on while he tries to think of a decent response to that question.

Growing serious, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn't have to be (he could still keep this conversation on a light track) but he decides to be upfront about it. Let Tess know that she was in on this, definitely.]

A lot about her reminded me of Sarah. [It was because of Ellie that he could even utter that name without too much difficulty. He thinks he could count on his hands the number of times he's said it to Tess in over a decade, even less sober. He expects she'll be surprised he decided to share.] That's probably obvious by now, anyway.

[She is surprised. Sarah comes up in their worst moments (or their drunkest moments) and it's never been a comfortable topic, yet here she is, the ghost of a little girl she's never met, she's never seen a picture of, never even heard much about... and yet, she's the source of so much strife.

Ellie reminds Joel of Sarah. That tells Tess a lot about Sarah, but raises so many more questions.

But if Joel is ready to talk, Tess is ready to listen.]

I always wondered what she was like. Figured any kid raised by you would be sharp as hell and a real attitude.

[Everything from what he told Tess about the Fireflies, to his behavior around the kid compared to what it was before, to Tess straight up asking him if all he was interested in was playing dad now... it's gotta be obvious. There's a lot he could say about how Ellie isn't just a reminder; about how she watched his back and they stuck together, about how the things they went through together make her a completely different person to him, but he won't.

He won't right now because the conversation sticks him somewhere else and he goes quiet for a moment remembering. Flashbacks to taking Sarah to the pediatrician and all her soccer games, walking her to the bus stop. Those were simpler times, but she'd always had a fire in her that would've allowed her to struggle through if only things had gone a little differently.

Joel knows he's not the one who was supposed to live.]

She had both. You would'a liked her. [Murmured, but it's as gentle as he's ever been about the subject with Tess. Joel rubs his hand over his face again-- tries to shake off the urge to retreat, but he settles for lifting himself off the couch and over to their alcohol supply.] Shit, Tess, this entire conversation needs a drink. You want one?

Yeah, sure. Surprise me.

[There's enough variety in Paradisa to be surprised, after all. When Joel leaves the couch, Tess shifts a bit closer to where he had been sitting. The seat cushion is warm against her bare feet. She watches him go through the liquor cabinet, idly running her fingers through her still-damp hair and combing it out of her face.

A bit of a smile plays on her mouth.]

She'd think I have better taste in music and movies than you. You probably made her listen to country.

[He brings two glasses and a bottle of bourbon whiskey over, setting it down on the coffee table first. Joel's come to terms with there being nowhere to really run to, away from the castle's weird soul-sucking control, not that he feels good about it. But whatever.

If there wasn't anything they could do about it, they might as well indulge. Paranoia ticks away at the back of his mind, reminding him, but damn-- if he didn't need it before, he sure needs it now.]

Scootch. [He nudges Tess' feet over, reclaiming his spot. There's a sound under his breath that is almost a laugh.] She hated all of mine, I hated all of hers. Well...

[Sometimes Joel would strum something for her on his guitar and she'd admit that it was alright. You know what? This isn't all that bad. He trails off, pouring himself a big glass and handing the bottle to Tess after.]

[She scoots over again, just enough to give him his seat back, and then she tucks her bare toes into the space between his thigh and the couch cushion. Fine, he can keep them warm for her. Toes are different than hands, anyway.

Whiskey, and good whiskey at that — not that Tess truly knows the difference. She helps herself and puts the bottle back down on the table.]

If your music was any good, it'd still be popular in the 2000s. Maybe you're just too old-fashioned, Texas.

[Cute. They'd never been able to lounge like this much, or it's been so long that he can't remember the last time they did. The slight chill of her bare skin, felt through cloth, fades away quick. He finishes his glass with a couple of hard gulps before he responds, and pours another.

But when he leans back with it, he pauses. Joel runs a hand up Tess' leg in an idle way, gazing at nothing in particular and holding his glass steady. Thinking about Sarah for too long is rough; he concentrates on the burn of the alcohol and the very real presence of a once-dead partner, relaxing at his side like it'd never happened.]

I ain't that old-fashioned. [Drawling.] You of all people should know.

[She chances a bit of a laugh at that before downing some of her whiskey; even after years, she feels the burn all the way down to her stomach, but it's nice in a strange way. It makes his palm on her leg less intimidating, it makes it easier to be playful, even if she won't be drunk for a little bit yet. She knows she will be, and that's all she needs.]

I've heard your stuff. I know what you like. To her, you must've been a dinosaur.

[Damn, she didn't take the bait in quite the way he'd been aiming for. Joel swirls the liquid in his glass and lets out a dry chuckle, the sound barely even there.]

That's the way it is. [Between kids and their parents, that's the way it's always been. But Joel has to admit that compared to his age group, he's always been an old soul-- it's not like the other kids he grew up with knew who Hank Williams was.] Jesus, Tess, don't remind me that you liked the same bands she did. That's not gonna end well for us.

[It's meant to be funny, in a dead and lifeless way, but he sounds like he's looking for an out: desperately seeking a conversation changer. That's enough sharing on this subject for one night. Joel drains his second glass quick.]

[Tess takes some more booze and gives her toes a wiggle, just to prod at him.]

Hey, if we liked what was popular, then we shared favourites with college students and cool moms and dads too. Hell, I bet there were little old ladies who liked Lady Gaga and that shit.

[She knows how too much conversation about her age would go, given how it's gone in the past. When they first met, she'd tried to play it cool, tried to act like she was older than she was, but living in an outbreak-ravaged world doesn't push back your birthdate any. She knows she's closer to his daughter's age than his age, but he cares about it more than she ever did. Joel isn't old enough to be her dad, so what does it matter?

Tess pours herself another, and while she has the bottle, she pours him another, too.]

How would you rather it end for us tonight?

[Fair enough. Joel supposed that put him somewhere on the other side of cool (Lady Gaga? Shit, he'd hated all those times he'd been forced to listen to her on repeat), but he could live with that. Young or not, the day when he found out Sarah would be born had changed his life forever. And continued to shape it.

Thank god they were getting through this bottle quick, because he was sure he couldn't keep his mindframe here for another minute longer without shutting down. Only because of Ellie had he made progress, only because of her, he was- and he kinda wants to explain that to Tess more than anything. An urge to unravel Ellie to her so that she didn't seem so much like this inexplicable third factor, so that Joel's final decision made sense to the only person who understood him and was his equal.

He gives Tess' leg a pat for that prodding, clearing his throat at her question.]

On a good note, one way or another.

[Tess nods.]

Me too.

[Is it wrong to want to apologize? Any other night like this, where the two of them are emotional wrecks for different reasons and there's something wrong but there isn't much to be done for it, they might get drunk and fuck clumsily and go to bed mostly unsatisfied but at the very least not alone. But now there's nothing to change the topic to, really, at least not anything that isn't painfully artificial or equally depressing, and eventually they'll either doze off on the couch or shuffle off to their separate bedrooms and close the doors.

Tess isn't sure if that thought makes her want to drink more or less.

More, she decides, and she keeps it lighthearted.]

It's almost good that I'm infected, 'cause it'd be a real piss-off to be living with a kid who doesn't even realize how much of a cockblock she is.

[The look Joel throws her for that is stern and long-suffering. Yeah, it's a joke, and yeah, there's not one single part of it he finds funny.]

Tess-- [He heaves half of a sigh and takes a big drink from his glass. There's a lecture bubbling up inside of him about keeping adult topics and Ellie topics in completely separate universes, but he stuffs it down, a bit too obviously.] It's not good. And you're takin' it to a level that don't even make sense.

[Didn't they just say they want to end the night on a good note? But this is something that might deserve addressing.] You flinch away at the slightest thing, I swear.

Edited 2013-10-12 01:17 (UTC)

[Tess wants to keep up the pretense that it's funny, but he's right –– it's not, really. Though she keeps her feet where they are, she leans back into the backrest of the sofa and watches him with an almost irreverent look.]

I do not.

[Even though she did, and she does, and she probably will again. So what if she'd clung to him and cried against his chest when she'd first arrived, and all that shit? That was in a moment of panic, she hadn't been thinking, she'd lost control of herself.]

What doesn't make sense? I say it's better safe than sorry.

And I say you're about as immune as Ellie is by this point.

[He decides that's his cue to list a few salient points. The alcohol drags it out of him easy, making it obvious this is something he's thought about before.]

I spent a whole year travelin' with that kid. We stuck together, close. And we didn't live in a goddamn magic castle.

You're not immune. [That's pointed, but not all that sharp. She drinks.] And you and Ellie don't exactly stick together close like you an' I.

[That's the nicest way she can phrase it right now.]

I'll concede I could stand to relax when you touch my hand, but...

That's all I'm askin' you to concede.

[Muttered, his frustration spiking through his tone, but carefully tampered. He wasn't used to Tess being so flighty if he so much as touched her-- god, it's not like he doesn't understand where she's coming from.]

You know what I mean.

I know. I know what you mean.

[She tops up his drink, and her own. They're such miserably unhealthy people, aren't they?]

Just give me some time, alright?

[Miserably unhealthy and trying to talk about stuff that matters. Always a good combo. Joel gestures at that, nodding before he takes another sip. He understands, it can't be easy.]

Yeah, alright. [A bigger sip. He's starting to feel it, the burn turning into a good buzz.] Lord knows I'd be actin' the same.

Yeah. You know I wouldn't give a shit about the risk, though.

[Would she? "Reckless" is practically her middle name, but she's never thought of herself as the flight risk.

She picks at her drink slower, but still with intent. They can get real drunk here, after all, can't they? There are no prohibitive rules, no known physical threats... hell, the biggest "threat" around is explaining to Ellie why the two of them suddenly decided to get shit-faced beyond belief.

Joel can do that. That's his problem, taken on when he decided to play dad.

Tess puts a hand over his, more confidently this time, daring herself to wear a bit of that old smirk.]

And if it turns out I'm wrong as hell and there's not a trace in me, I'll make it up to you. Promise.

[Joel doesn't give much of a shit about the risk, for all his lecturing and overcaution. Most days he thinks he's lived long enough, already. It was enough already. Send him off to hell and let the final nail in the coffin be that he got too close to his infected partner. He puts away more whiskey for picking away at that thought.

She puts her hand on his, this time. It surprises him, chases his frown away and distracts him from his drink. Her words, her smirk. Joel pauses before the amused huff slips out of him.]

Ain't even about that, Tess. [He doesn't stick close to her for the chance to get off, but that- he doesn't know how to articulate it because they don't.] It's just-

["Make it up to you." Not the angle he's looking for.]

This is- this means something. [He gives her hand a nudge, this, and looks away for how stupidly sentimental it sounds. More drinking.] Is all.

[Tess wants to tell him that it is about that in a sense –– she misses being able to crawl into bed with him, misses his weight over her and him pinned under her, misses looking forward to alone time. Those things matter to her, but fuck it, there aren't even words for it. He nudges her hand and she stares at her own lap.

It means something. It does mean something.]

I don't want to lose that, Joel, I don't, but if the worst happened, then dying wouldn't mean anything, you know? You went and killed the Fireflies, fine, but... [She trails.] The least I can do is protect you from that.

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