[She's quiet the rest of the night after that, except a brief I've got him to return the favor so Drake knows he's safe. Most of the day passes before she sends out another text, asking to meet, asking for when and wherever he wants. She'll be there.]
[ It's the same building so Drake wasn't exactly worried, but he appreciates the message. And is browsing apartment options to present to Jesus later when Rosita's text comes in. No one else needs to know that his initial response is to sigh and scrub at his face, because he absolutely understands and would never want to make it seem like someone's protectiveness is a pain in his ass... but she's really gotta calm down. Hopefully whatever she wants to talk about, he'll be able to make her a little more comfortable with the situation?
He texts back that she can just meet him in the lobby, since it's about time for Sable's walk. They can take her to the beach where nobody but LIERs go and have some privacy for this conversation. ]
Rosita texts back an agreement and she's there, sitting on a bench and glancing idly through a magazine while she waits. She still has her shoulder sling on and arm splinted and strapped tight across her body, and she's still dressing in layers despite the weather, although those layers are lighter fabric now. A tanktop and a linen button down, expensive jeans and sensible boots to go with the knife that's still there, still openly displayed at her hip.
When she glances up and recognizes him, she drops the magazine, standing.
"Hi - and who's this?" It's been years since she's seen a pet, and that was Dog, who couldn't be a more perfect replica of the man who named him if they'd planned it.
The weapons and layers aren't surprising, but the sling is. Maybe it's not a new development, but Rosita wasn't wearing it or the splint when they first met. Drake doesn't bother trying to hide the curiosity in his eyes at what happened to her as he introduces the animal at his side.
"This is Sable," he tells Rosita, lifting his free hand and gesturing in a way that his dog seems to recognize, as she instantly sits down with her tail wagging behind her. "Good girl, say hello."
The teenage-gangly black lab lifts a paw and holds it there waiting to shake, looking up at Rosita with big hopeful brown eyes.
Rosita hates that she has such an obvious signal to anyone at all who has eyes, but there's nothing for it. The sooner it heals, the sooner she can get rid of the damn thing, so here we are.
She focuses on the dog, blinking a bit - Dog knows tricks too but Dog nips when he's excited and barely listens to Daryl unless it's a command that means run - but despite herself a smile breaks across her face when she realizes what's expected of her.
"What a good girl," she murmurs, warm, and does accept the dog's paw, shaking once before letting go. "She's beautiful. It's been years since I've seen one that wasn't half-wild at best."
"Yeah, Jesus said the same thing when he met her... but she's a sweet girl. We got her last winter, she's not quite a year yet." He offers Sable a treat and ruffles her ears for performing the command properly, then nods towards the door. "I always wanted a dog but never had the chance before here."
Drake holds the door for Rosita and then turns towards the outskirts of town, still planning on a walk along the beach for privacy's sake.
Rosita follows, then falls in on the side of Drake opposite the dog. What did she want to talk about?
She tries to be honest with herself, even when the answer is stupid. She hedges first though by saying, "I have the rest of the money I owe you." It's not a lie, she did want to get it to him sooner rather than later, so it'll do.
"On me, but I figure whipping out a wad of cash isn't good no matter what street you're walking on."
"You can pass it off when we get back," Drake agrees, in his usual easygoing tone. How casual he sounds doesn't really mesh with what he says next. "But you could've just sent that over with Jesus, or come downstairs yourself. You asked to meet."
There's no judgment and no pressure to it. He isn't really even asking a question, despite it being obvious. Whatever Rosita wants, she'll get there in her own time whether he pushes or not.
"Jesus doesn't know I borrowed it," she shrugs with her good shoulder. "At least, I didn't tell him." She doesn't really care if Drake did or not, but it's her business, and she handled it.
"I won't say I wanted to apologize for last night, because I don't. I'm not sorry. But I did figure maybe we should get a chance to talk when there's not some kind of problem or negotiation on the table."
"Neither did I, so no. He doesn't know." Not that it matters to Drake, either. He doesn't need credit for helping or anything like that. Just figured he should confirm that he didn't say anything either.
They stop at a crosswalk and he praises Sable for sitting to wait, only to immediately look over at Rosita quizzically for what she says next.
"There's nothing to be sorry for, first of all. But okay. You've got my attention -- we're not solving a problem or negotiating something, so what should we talk about? I'm more of a never have I ever guy than twenty questions, but you can go first either way."
It's a look and an answer that earns him an odd look of her own.
"Well, never have I ever played never have I ever," she snorts. It's still surprises her when things from the old world crop up, even though she is essentially standing in the old world.
Just with a lot more sex now.
"Or twenty questions. I like my conversations to be conversations. What were you expecting?"
"Are you gonna get offended if I answer that honestly?"
The light changes while they're still regarding one another with uncertainty, but then Drake shrugs and starts walking again. He's going to answer honestly anyway, so it doesn't particularly matter.
"Threats. Maybe a rant about how I've already fucked up by letting him run out his grace period? Something like that."
"That's why we need an actual conversation," she says, stepping down to follow him across.
"He's a grown ass man. I'm not his mother, wife, or lover. We're friends and that means something different where we're from than it does for most, so I get why you'd expect a shovel talk - and I'm not taking it completely off the table. But I do understand that you don't control him. I have met him."
"I feel like I should make it clear I'm not interested in controlling him. Cuz yeah, he's a grown ass man. I've already got a pet and despite what the city thinks he's a person, not my property. The offer was on the table and I made it clear what I thought the best course of action was. He had to decide for himself."
Does he wish Jesus hadn't put it off another two and a half weeks? Yeah. But Drake absolutely refuses to push on this kind of thing. Who'd want to sign with somebody they felt coerced by in the first place? It fucks up the dynamic before it even really exists.
"Anyway, you can give a shovel talk if you want. I'm sure you're terrifying but I'm not worried about it... he trusts me for a reason so hopefully you will eventually, too. All the stalling on a contract has been something else." There are a lot of options, all equally likely to be contributing somehow. Commitment issues, fear of rejection if he got attached, viewing himself as a burden, the potential for loss in a place like this, probably reminding him of past traumas from living in an apocalypse... Drake's no stranger to this shit. It's just all the more reason to let Jesus come to him.
"I think I'll keep it in my back pocket for when I feel like I need it," she answers, lightly. She is terrifying, she's killed more people than a lot of soldiers, and she'll do it again without hesitation if she decides that's what needs to happen, but that means not making threats needlessly. "As for trusting you - Jesus is a good judge of character and him trusting you takes you a long way with me, sure. But no one's perfect, and I've seen what happens when he makes bad calls."
Her eyebrows pull together a bit, almost a frown, not quite. She's not judging her friend, not by a long shot, but the truth remains that their gauges are skewed - perhaps permanently - by the world they come from and that they're both hoping someday to get back to, she's pretty sure. "And you get that there's always going to be that extra pressure, right? No matter what you say, the city still has expectations. The program can change shit at any time. That's not nothing."
Everyone makes bad calls sometimes, so again... Drake gets the concern. He just isn't worried about it in this case because he knows himself. Rosita doesn't, so she is. It's really simple, but it's better that this kind of thing isn't rushed. At least, every case where he's speedrun earning someone's trust has been a traumatic situation. None of them need that right now.
Her question gets a moment's consideration because it deserves it, but ultimately Drake shrugs one shoulder.
"I think the important part, and the only part that I can control, is that the pressure is never gonna be coming from me. You could talk to my partner if you don't believe me, but like... yeah. Sometimes the city demands stuff. Those situations? We're still in them together as far as I'm concerned. What my sub wants is way more important to me than the city's punishments, but I'm usually able to spin things. I've only ever used my designation as leverage to protect people."
"Your sub," she echoes, popping her lips a bit on the end consonant. Her smile is wry, and her dark eyes serious.
"I'm getting the message loud and clear that you got this. You aren't worried. You probably even think I'm being overly cautious at best, fucking ridiculous at worst, and I get that. What are you supposed to do with your new friend's crazy friend, right?"
She shoves her hand in her back pocket, glances down at the dog, then back up at Drake. "You been in the military anywhere, Drake?"
Drake huffs softly, but at this point it's sounding a little frustrated.
"You can drop the possessive pronoun if that bothers you, or even the sub part. It's just that both those descriptors usually apply around here." He rakes his free hand through his hair, not liking how she's describing his attitude. Or the turn that the question is probably taking this conversation, but he'll answer. Honestly, even. "I've fought a war, but I'm not a soldier, no. And I know already I'm not cut out for it."
Rosita doesn't actually like to pick fights despite the fact she won't back down from one; she's not happy to see signs of frustration, but she stays focused for the time being regardless.
"Even better, because we aren't either. But you lost people? People who were just there as well as people important to you?" It's easier not to blame people for not being cut out for fighting when there's no fighting going on; there's not here, so she can keep her voice even, keep it to a simple yes or no rather than trying to dig in when she's not after that.
It's not the fighting that Drake isn't cut out for, at least. It's taking orders. It's obeying when you're told to kill someone who doesn't deserve to die, or being told to protect someone who doesn't deserve to live. He's heard plenty of horror stories of war where the enemy isn't really the evil so despite being an excellent fighter, Drake knows he'd be a terrible soldier.
He doesn't tell Rosita any of that. Just nods, expression gravely serious: yes, he's lost people. And a few times now, he's sacrificed himself.
"I buried him, Drake. And I don't mean in the metaphorical sense. I helped dig his grave, I hammered a nail into his coffin." She was the reason he was outside the walls in the first place, but her guilt doesn't have any room here.
"And more people than I can count before that. We fought shoulder to shoulder for years, sometimes when we didn't even know why we were bothering anymore. We starved and froze together, we built walls and traded goods together. I was standing beside him on a literal firing squad line. We buried other friends together - hell, we put other friends down together. What would you do, if you suddenly got one of your people back, and suddenly you had a second chance? How many questions would you ask, how closely would you look at the people who ended up with contracts over them in a place like this?"
For a long moment after Rosita stops asking questions, Drake stays quiet. He looks out at the waves down the beach, just breathing the sea air and twisting Sable's leash between his fingers. Tactile things. Stay in the moment. Answer her.
Finally he exhales heavily, like he's made a decision.
"The thing is, you're asking me these questions as 'if's when they're not. It doesn't line up exactly, but I do understand. And it's because I know where you're coming from with all this that I've never called you crazy, never said you're overreacting or too worried. But there's also no way for me to prove to you that I'm not gonna hurt him except letting it play out."
He looks back at Rosita, expression just resigned now. Grieving for someone who's also right in front of you is a mess and he knows that all too well. Doesn't mean it doesn't have to happen.
"I can promise you til I'm blue in the face that I mean well and you won't believe me, because of what other people have put you through. That's not your fault. But it's not mine, either. And it took me a long time and a lot of pain to accept that I can't convince anyone to trust me. I can't, Rosita. All I can do is tell you the truth and do my best for him. Maybe eventually that'll be enough."
"People hurt each other. We don't always mean to, but we do. It's inevitable." Which is her own history talking and she is aware enough of it to know that - to, for the most part, catch herself before she starts holding grudges because of it.
But her point is: "I don't expect you to be perfect, or superhuman. I'm not actually trying to manage his life. But it's easy to meet him and think that he's doing fine with things when it's more that it's always been the only option we've had. He's important to me, and I want better than that for him."
Jesus is one of the most stable survivors she knows, and he still got inside his own head and got himself killed; she can't, won't say this though, so she says the rest.
"I listen to people who have been here a lot longer than us talk and I think sometimes you've forgotten what it was like to be new. To still be adjusting. That's what I'm after, not promises you can't make and I don't want. I want you to consider how a phrase like "my sub" just pops out of your mouth but hits me like it does - and I'm not even in the contract with you."
"He's not doing fine," Drake agrees softly, "even though you're right that it looks that way. Something we've got in common."
When you spend a huge chunk of your life behind a mask, never letting your guard down? Vulnerability is hard. And he's not going to tell Rosita what Jesus admitted to him, the things he's struggling with... she probably knows already but either way they're not his feelings to talk about. Drake just moves on.
"I can use different vocabulary if it bothers you, but I feel like that's kinda besides the point. They're just words. Communication is knowing what the other person means when they say things, and yeah. I've adjusted to things here. I use their bullshit terminology. But I didn't know it'd hit you wrong until you told me so, and now I can tell you that the phrase doesn't mean the same thing to me as to the city." He shakes his head, lips quirking. "World hopping for over four years has really hammered home that the words don't matter... it's being willing to talk things through until everybody's on the same page. And I know I'm there with Jesus."
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He texts back that she can just meet him in the lobby, since it's about time for Sable's walk. They can take her to the beach where nobody but LIERs go and have some privacy for this conversation. ]
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When she glances up and recognizes him, she drops the magazine, standing.
"Hi - and who's this?" It's been years since she's seen a pet, and that was Dog, who couldn't be a more perfect replica of the man who named him if they'd planned it.
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"This is Sable," he tells Rosita, lifting his free hand and gesturing in a way that his dog seems to recognize, as she instantly sits down with her tail wagging behind her. "Good girl, say hello."
The teenage-gangly black lab lifts a paw and holds it there waiting to shake, looking up at Rosita with big hopeful brown eyes.
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She focuses on the dog, blinking a bit - Dog knows tricks too but Dog nips when he's excited and barely listens to Daryl unless it's a command that means run - but despite herself a smile breaks across her face when she realizes what's expected of her.
"What a good girl," she murmurs, warm, and does accept the dog's paw, shaking once before letting go. "She's beautiful. It's been years since I've seen one that wasn't half-wild at best."
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Drake holds the door for Rosita and then turns towards the outskirts of town, still planning on a walk along the beach for privacy's sake.
"What did you want to talk about?"
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She tries to be honest with herself, even when the answer is stupid. She hedges first though by saying, "I have the rest of the money I owe you." It's not a lie, she did want to get it to him sooner rather than later, so it'll do.
"On me, but I figure whipping out a wad of cash isn't good no matter what street you're walking on."
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There's no judgment and no pressure to it. He isn't really even asking a question, despite it being obvious. Whatever Rosita wants, she'll get there in her own time whether he pushes or not.
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"I won't say I wanted to apologize for last night, because I don't. I'm not sorry. But I did figure maybe we should get a chance to talk when there's not some kind of problem or negotiation on the table."
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They stop at a crosswalk and he praises Sable for sitting to wait, only to immediately look over at Rosita quizzically for what she says next.
"There's nothing to be sorry for, first of all. But okay. You've got my attention -- we're not solving a problem or negotiating something, so what should we talk about? I'm more of a never have I ever guy than twenty questions, but you can go first either way."
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"Well, never have I ever played never have I ever," she snorts. It's still surprises her when things from the old world crop up, even though she is essentially standing in the old world.
Just with a lot more sex now.
"Or twenty questions. I like my conversations to be conversations. What were you expecting?"
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The light changes while they're still regarding one another with uncertainty, but then Drake shrugs and starts walking again. He's going to answer honestly anyway, so it doesn't particularly matter.
"Threats. Maybe a rant about how I've already fucked up by letting him run out his grace period? Something like that."
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"He's a grown ass man. I'm not his mother, wife, or lover. We're friends and that means something different where we're from than it does for most, so I get why you'd expect a shovel talk - and I'm not taking it completely off the table. But I do understand that you don't control him. I have met him."
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Does he wish Jesus hadn't put it off another two and a half weeks? Yeah. But Drake absolutely refuses to push on this kind of thing. Who'd want to sign with somebody they felt coerced by in the first place? It fucks up the dynamic before it even really exists.
"Anyway, you can give a shovel talk if you want. I'm sure you're terrifying but I'm not worried about it... he trusts me for a reason so hopefully you will eventually, too. All the stalling on a contract has been something else." There are a lot of options, all equally likely to be contributing somehow. Commitment issues, fear of rejection if he got attached, viewing himself as a burden, the potential for loss in a place like this, probably reminding him of past traumas from living in an apocalypse... Drake's no stranger to this shit. It's just all the more reason to let Jesus come to him.
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Her eyebrows pull together a bit, almost a frown, not quite. She's not judging her friend, not by a long shot, but the truth remains that their gauges are skewed - perhaps permanently - by the world they come from and that they're both hoping someday to get back to, she's pretty sure. "And you get that there's always going to be that extra pressure, right? No matter what you say, the city still has expectations. The program can change shit at any time. That's not nothing."
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Her question gets a moment's consideration because it deserves it, but ultimately Drake shrugs one shoulder.
"I think the important part, and the only part that I can control, is that the pressure is never gonna be coming from me. You could talk to my partner if you don't believe me, but like... yeah. Sometimes the city demands stuff. Those situations? We're still in them together as far as I'm concerned. What my sub wants is way more important to me than the city's punishments, but I'm usually able to spin things. I've only ever used my designation as leverage to protect people."
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"I'm getting the message loud and clear that you got this. You aren't worried. You probably even think I'm being overly cautious at best, fucking ridiculous at worst, and I get that. What are you supposed to do with your new friend's crazy friend, right?"
She shoves her hand in her back pocket, glances down at the dog, then back up at Drake. "You been in the military anywhere, Drake?"
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"You can drop the possessive pronoun if that bothers you, or even the sub part. It's just that both those descriptors usually apply around here." He rakes his free hand through his hair, not liking how she's describing his attitude. Or the turn that the question is probably taking this conversation, but he'll answer. Honestly, even. "I've fought a war, but I'm not a soldier, no. And I know already I'm not cut out for it."
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"Even better, because we aren't either. But you lost people? People who were just there as well as people important to you?" It's easier not to blame people for not being cut out for fighting when there's no fighting going on; there's not here, so she can keep her voice even, keep it to a simple yes or no rather than trying to dig in when she's not after that.
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He doesn't tell Rosita any of that. Just nods, expression gravely serious: yes, he's lost people. And a few times now, he's sacrificed himself.
She doesn't need to hear that, either.
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"And more people than I can count before that. We fought shoulder to shoulder for years, sometimes when we didn't even know why we were bothering anymore. We starved and froze together, we built walls and traded goods together. I was standing beside him on a literal firing squad line. We buried other friends together - hell, we put other friends down together. What would you do, if you suddenly got one of your people back, and suddenly you had a second chance? How many questions would you ask, how closely would you look at the people who ended up with contracts over them in a place like this?"
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Finally he exhales heavily, like he's made a decision.
"The thing is, you're asking me these questions as 'if's when they're not. It doesn't line up exactly, but I do understand. And it's because I know where you're coming from with all this that I've never called you crazy, never said you're overreacting or too worried. But there's also no way for me to prove to you that I'm not gonna hurt him except letting it play out."
He looks back at Rosita, expression just resigned now. Grieving for someone who's also right in front of you is a mess and he knows that all too well. Doesn't mean it doesn't have to happen.
"I can promise you til I'm blue in the face that I mean well and you won't believe me, because of what other people have put you through. That's not your fault. But it's not mine, either. And it took me a long time and a lot of pain to accept that I can't convince anyone to trust me. I can't, Rosita. All I can do is tell you the truth and do my best for him. Maybe eventually that'll be enough."
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But her point is: "I don't expect you to be perfect, or superhuman. I'm not actually trying to manage his life. But it's easy to meet him and think that he's doing fine with things when it's more that it's always been the only option we've had. He's important to me, and I want better than that for him."
Jesus is one of the most stable survivors she knows, and he still got inside his own head and got himself killed; she can't, won't say this though, so she says the rest.
"I listen to people who have been here a lot longer than us talk and I think sometimes you've forgotten what it was like to be new. To still be adjusting. That's what I'm after, not promises you can't make and I don't want. I want you to consider how a phrase like "my sub" just pops out of your mouth but hits me like it does - and I'm not even in the contract with you."
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When you spend a huge chunk of your life behind a mask, never letting your guard down? Vulnerability is hard. And he's not going to tell Rosita what Jesus admitted to him, the things he's struggling with... she probably knows already but either way they're not his feelings to talk about. Drake just moves on.
"I can use different vocabulary if it bothers you, but I feel like that's kinda besides the point. They're just words. Communication is knowing what the other person means when they say things, and yeah. I've adjusted to things here. I use their bullshit terminology. But I didn't know it'd hit you wrong until you told me so, and now I can tell you that the phrase doesn't mean the same thing to me as to the city." He shakes his head, lips quirking. "World hopping for over four years has really hammered home that the words don't matter... it's being willing to talk things through until everybody's on the same page. And I know I'm there with Jesus."
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