[ Smiling a little himself, he lets the fire slide around the other man's shoulders and neck and fall down to roll around in Jesus' hands as a ball.
After a moment, he looks down to the sheets, licking over his lips. Apprehensive, almost. ]
There are these things called... sentinels. They're... giant robots. [ He pauses, takes a moment. ] They hunt my kind. Mutants. People made them to kill us.
[ Again, he takes another moment. ]
One just... showed up here. Again. I mean— when I first got here, not long after, a couple did and just disappeared, but. One showed up again last month.
[ For a moment, he's quiet — let's himself swallow before he looks over, just barely, to the fire still there wrapped around Jesus as if it were a warm jacket. ]
Yeah.
[ It takes him a little longer than it should for him to say that — to admit that and he ducks his head as he pulls the fire off Jesus, not confident in himself to not accidentally burn him since unstable emotions can make him lose control and focus on the fire. ]
I never really... got over the last time they were here. Even if it was over a year ago. You just... don't forget that. How it felt.
[ This is hard because of how much he's suppressed this — how much he's shrugged it off or turned it around back to the other trying to get him to talk about this. To be killed — to be murdered by the very thing humans made to do just that to you and your kind... it's horrific and it's probably the worst way he could have gone here. For him.
Face scrunched up, he stares down to the bed. ]
I uh... hid a lot. But it somehow always found me.
"Whatever happened last month, it was designed that way. None of us could escape," he says softly, both trying to reassure and trying to prompt him to keep talking.
Admitting this isn't anything he wants to do — he's been avoiding it and dodging it every time someone has tried to get him to talk about it... sometimes even getting angry about it. But he's been sitting on it for a month now. Busied himself with checking in on others, being there for them... things he doesn't normally do or have much emotional bandwidth for.
Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, he stares to the bed still, conflicted with himself.
"Being killed by something like that... something that people made because they'd rather see me dead than try and live with me or someone like me." Mutants, he means. A shake of his head, he looks off, away from Jesus. "That's fucked up."
He just barely looks over to Jesus when the other man leans against him and he falls quiet. Contemplative. "I just... no one should have to die like that."
Of course they had to make them. Some mutants are easy to spot because of their appearance. But others? Like John? They're more difficult because of how easily they can blend in and seem normal. That's why they needed machines able to detect the x-gene in others.
Turning a little to better look at Jesus then, his eyes feel... heavy. With a lot of things that he's been keeping to himself. Things that he hasn't really let go of just yet.
"I died alone and I woke up alone," he admits. "I shouldn't be here."
"I also don't sleep with many humans, so." Leaning in, he kisses Jesus, letting lips linger there against the other's mouth as he speaks. "Guess you're lucky."
"I mean, not like you were a bad lay or anything," he huffs a bit of laughter at that, brushing the pad of his thumb down Jesus' chin, over his beard. "So I wouldn't say no to a round two, three, four, five..."
"Tch, please," he appreciates the gentle ways in which this conversation becomes a little more light-hearted. "I gotta be good and not miss quota again, so. Might hear from me every now and then."
"No but I came close. I ended up in the Zoo for fighting a guard anyway. My friend, though... It was hard for him. I think it would be for me, too." He frowns. "I'm okay as long as I get to choose. You know? The injection takes away some of those choices."
"Yeah, I know," looking down for a moment, he tilts his head. "I missed quota last month. First time in almost two years for me." A shrug, he looks over to Jesus. "Death just doesn't get me all horny and wanting to fuck, you know? But not like they care here."
"Before I came here I'd barely been with anyone in ten years. It's... Hard. Getting used to being with men again." Fun, too, clearly. He enjoyed what they just did. But it's difficult when he thinks too much about it.
"Don't think too much about it," he offers. "It's a good way to complicate things... catch feelings and all that. It's just sex here. That's all this place cares about."
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After a moment, he looks down to the sheets, licking over his lips. Apprehensive, almost. ]
There are these things called... sentinels. They're... giant robots. [ He pauses, takes a moment. ] They hunt my kind. Mutants. People made them to kill us.
[ Again, he takes another moment. ]
One just... showed up here. Again. I mean— when I first got here, not long after, a couple did and just disappeared, but. One showed up again last month.
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It came after you.
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Yeah.
[ It takes him a little longer than it should for him to say that — to admit that and he ducks his head as he pulls the fire off Jesus, not confident in himself to not accidentally burn him since unstable emotions can make him lose control and focus on the fire. ]
I never really... got over the last time they were here. Even if it was over a year ago. You just... don't forget that. How it felt.
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What happened?
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Face scrunched up, he stares down to the bed. ]
I uh... hid a lot. But it somehow always found me.
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Dragging his teeth over his bottom lip, he stares to the bed still, conflicted with himself.
"Being killed by something like that... something that people made because they'd rather see me dead than try and live with me or someone like me." Mutants, he means. A shake of his head, he looks off, away from Jesus. "That's fucked up."
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"I wish this place was better for you."
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Turning a little to better look at Jesus then, his eyes feel... heavy. With a lot of things that he's been keeping to himself. Things that he hasn't really let go of just yet.
"I died alone and I woke up alone," he admits. "I shouldn't be here."
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"I want you here." He is wanted, if nothing else.
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