Jesus doesn't address the subject of his infection, and Drake's not the pushy type. He'll answer first, give the other man a moment to consider it while he does... because it's not Jesus' fault. They just have to know, for either peace of mind or to take proper precautions.
He doesn't see the guilt because he isn't looking up, though. Talking about this is still difficult for him.
"They called it medical research," he starts, debating how much to say before remembering how wary and protective Rosita is. Jesus has probably dealt with things similarly terrible back home, just different. "They crammed a couple dozen of us into a cell and treated us like lab rats, poking and prodding and shooting us up with mystery syringes to see what would happen. We were told they were testing formulas for a cure but they also had romeros chained to treadmills with brains just out of reach, to see how fast they could run when the scientists added different things into the iv, so... it wasn't about cures. It's not 'research' when they drag people away with control poles and cattle prods and their bodies come back empty."
Drake's voice is low and bitter, because as much as he's made his peace with it and doesn't regret his death, he's still angry that any of it happened to any of them. That nobody in that basement realized they were still people, or the irony of calling them the expendable monsters while doing such horrible shit. He finally looks up at Jesus again, tilting his chin up in an unconscious reenactment of how he'd faced his own march into the testing room.
"I could only watch it happen so many times before I made them take me next instead of the guy crying about never seeing his kids again. Liv said I was the last one before they rescued the others."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-09-19 03:44 pm (UTC)He doesn't see the guilt because he isn't looking up, though. Talking about this is still difficult for him.
"They called it medical research," he starts, debating how much to say before remembering how wary and protective Rosita is. Jesus has probably dealt with things similarly terrible back home, just different. "They crammed a couple dozen of us into a cell and treated us like lab rats, poking and prodding and shooting us up with mystery syringes to see what would happen. We were told they were testing formulas for a cure but they also had romeros chained to treadmills with brains just out of reach, to see how fast they could run when the scientists added different things into the iv, so... it wasn't about cures. It's not 'research' when they drag people away with control poles and cattle prods and their bodies come back empty."
Drake's voice is low and bitter, because as much as he's made his peace with it and doesn't regret his death, he's still angry that any of it happened to any of them. That nobody in that basement realized they were still people, or the irony of calling them the expendable monsters while doing such horrible shit. He finally looks up at Jesus again, tilting his chin up in an unconscious reenactment of how he'd faced his own march into the testing room.
"I could only watch it happen so many times before I made them take me next instead of the guy crying about never seeing his kids again. Liv said I was the last one before they rescued the others."