It doesn't take Drake very long to wash off the stripe of paint and make sure there are no black flecks left in the sink. He emerges from the bathroom with a freshly scrubbed neck and clean hands, coming up to where Jesus chose to sit.
He didn't explicitly ask why the other man wanted takeout instead of dine-in for a change but isn't reading into it. It's probably nothing more than that their conversation's been a little personal for native-occupied spaces. Not that he'd mind helping with quota like he'd offered, but... they're not done talking.
Nothing wrong with flirting just for the sake of it, either. Drake grins and claims the seat, nodding towards their takeout boxes -- might as well eat while it's still hot.
"Where were we?" he asks as he opens his container, even though he knows exactly what the last question he asked was. He's just giving Jesus an out to either answer his last question or move on from it if it's not something he's ready to talk about.
"Why it's complicated," he says, which is a big topic. "Where I'm from, most people are dead. But when we die we reanimate into things that eat the living. The dead outnumber the living, and they don't sleep... They're drawn to noise. I can't always make myself relax here where it's so loud all the time."
So he wants to talk about it, then? As long as it's Jesus' decision Drake is happy to listen, but as the other man answers he goes still, sitting back and giving Jesus his full attention, expression serious and concerned.
"Your world had a zombie apocalypse?" What are the odds of that? Probably decent, considering the infinite number of universes places like this deal with... and it sounds like they're all romeros, or maybe even something worse if they're actually reanimated. But still.
Fucking zombies. Not a fun coincidence.
"The context helps. I'll have to think about it, 'cuz everything that comes to mind right now is just a band aid. And maybe that's enough, like you just need time to adjust to this not being home? But I don't wanna make it worse in the long run."
"...not exactly. It's kind of a cultural shorthand, for us."
Drake pauses, trying to figure out how to explain the difference between zombies in the media and zombies in reality back home to someone who doesn't have the media context.
"What you're describing is called a zombie in my world, and technically speaking they're fictional. As far as I know, nothing can reanimate. Dead is dead, for us. But there is also a highly contagious disease going around that kind of mimics it in the living. If you don't manage the symptoms... similar deal." Another beat, and Drake glances away. His voice is softer when he speaks again. "I used to have it."
"I don't know," Drake admits, shrugging one shoulder. "There's a doctor working on one, I was helping him. He seemed pretty confident -- he'd cured rats -- but I died before he'd managed it. Dunno how things went in the long run."
The other questions he needs a moment to think about, and he knows what Jesus is going to ask next. How was he cured, then? But that's a bit of a story. So one thing at a time.
"It's transmitted through scratches and body fluids. Wasn't too common at first, so we were staying under the radar. But my ex was in Hadriel at one point and she said the situation back home had... changed. For the worse. The government had quarantined the city."
"They're not giving up. The only upside of any of it is that Ravi's got more resources now. CDC connections that don't think he's a raving lunatic, you know? He'll pull it off."
If things don't go completely to hell before he does, that is. Drake's choosing to be optimistic, since he'll probably never know one way or another. What good does it do him to assume his world dies?
None. So he won't.
He quirks a small grin, jumping right to answering the unasked question he's pretty sure is coming. Well, sort of. For any of it to make sense there's some explaining that needs to happen.
"I never mentioned the war going on in Hadriel, did I? Or that I was a Guard leader there?"
And just like that, the question gets way more complicated than just how he's not a zombie anymore. Drake's smile fades.
"Magic, basically. The thing was, being infected made me stronger in a lot of ways. So I'd stayed a zombie to better protect the city, but there were some really close calls. Earlier tonight when we were talking about going hungry when we were cut off from that one alien? Most people could stockpile while he was at full power and usually we could hunt or fish, people had gardens... worst case they'd lose some weight. But me?"
It's rare that Drake's visibly tense, but this is one of those times. He doesn't talk about this much, and since he's comfortable enough to do so there's no point in hiding how he feels about it. The memories are traumatic.
"You manage the symptoms by feeding. That's the only thing that keeps you yourself. It sucks, but you do it because a zombie from my world who doesn't eat essentially turns into a zombie from your world. A mindless, rotting monster. I came close once, the second time I definitely would've turned if there hadn't been somebody willing to put me on ice. Defrosting hurt like hell, but nobody I loved had to put me down." He hesitates, jaw working, before deciding to just get through the rest of the explanation quickly. "Anyway, when the war was really coming to a head, I decided I was gonna be selfish for once. I didn't want to die as a zombie again, or worse... win or lose the war, if we lost Hope for good somebody would have to put me down. So I finally made a deal. What you're looking at now isn't the same body I was born in."
A cure for what Drake had wouldn't have been anything like a cure for what Jesus has. He knows that. But there's a part of him that is always hoping there is a cure somewhere, that someone can figure it out, and if he could have had some vicarious hope...
"They did a good job," he says, with a little smile, but it fades.
"I'm infected. Everyone is. When I die, if my friends don't put me down, I'll try to kill them." At least that had been true before he died and came here. The fear of it, the absolute terror of it, hasn't gone away. If anything it's become worse, being forced to get close to so many people. He could become Patient Zero here.
"I'm looking into magic to cure it here. I dont' know if I believe in magic, but I'm desperate."
That's really worrying, since it couldn't have always been that way. Jesus' world was normal once and now everyone is infected?
"Are you sure you're still infected?" Drake asks, brow furrowed with thought as much as concern. "Cuz I've been told that anything that could be sexually transmitted or life threatening is cured when we wind up here. No idea how, but it does track. And there's no explanation behind how people just come back from the dead. Who knows what they do to us?"
"I don't trust anyone I could ask." All the doctors who could possibly test for it belong to the city. He's not sure even they would be able to tell, though; it's not like the Wild Fire virus is here to compare his sample against.
"Well if they didn't cure it, there's pretty much no chance you haven't given it to people already. Literally everyone in your world being infected means it's gotta be easier to spread than by fluids." He's not saying this to freak Jesus out, it's just realistic. "I might know somebody who'd be able to tell, if you'd see him."
The question of how bad it was, though?
"Horrible, but you know it's not the same. I wasn't dead. Even once I wasn't me anymore, I wasn't really dead. Just gone. So at that point it was only bad for Liv because she had to put me down, and I don't remember that part. Just what they did to me before."
He knows and he also knows there is nothing he could have done to prevent it. The guilt of it could choke the air right out of him if he thinks about it, though.
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."
It's an offer he'll take. Drake relaxes his hand and shifts very slightly, resting just one finger over Jesus' as his expression softens. Now he sounds more sad than bitter.
"I wish they could've rescued everyone. But I don't regret buying the others that time." A hesitation, then, gently... "You should find out if it's still in you, Jesus. Let me make some calls?"
They're not quite familiar enough for Drake to be sure leaning over to hug Jesus would be welcome, but he can't do nothing. The small bit of contact turns to Drake covering Jesus' hand completely, curling his fingers underneath to give a reassuring squeeze.
"One step at a time, don't jump to that. Nothing's ever hopeless. I've got your back, okay?"
"Hey, no. There's no way in any universe that you'd be responsible. You didn't choose to come here. You weren't even the first one from your world to show up. Whatever or whoever's dragging us in probably caught it, but if not we'll find a way to deal before the world falls. Just gotta know whether or not it's a problem first, yeah?"
He shifts a little closer, nudging Jesus's shoulder with his to try and get him to look up.
"If you infected me? It's already done. I might be the only other person in the whole city besides you three with personal experience telling friends where they've gotta shoot if I ever turn, and I'm saying it's not your fault."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2022-09-11 10:05 pm (UTC)He didn't explicitly ask why the other man wanted takeout instead of dine-in for a change but isn't reading into it. It's probably nothing more than that their conversation's been a little personal for native-occupied spaces. Not that he'd mind helping with quota like he'd offered, but... they're not done talking.
"This seat taken?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-15 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-16 02:31 am (UTC)"Where were we?" he asks as he opens his container, even though he knows exactly what the last question he asked was. He's just giving Jesus an out to either answer his last question or move on from it if it's not something he's ready to talk about.
no subject
Date: 2022-09-17 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-17 03:06 pm (UTC)"Your world had a zombie apocalypse?" What are the odds of that? Probably decent, considering the infinite number of universes places like this deal with... and it sounds like they're all romeros, or maybe even something worse if they're actually reanimated. But still.
Fucking zombies. Not a fun coincidence.
"The context helps. I'll have to think about it, 'cuz everything that comes to mind right now is just a band aid. And maybe that's enough, like you just need time to adjust to this not being home? But I don't wanna make it worse in the long run."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-17 11:15 pm (UTC)"The dead don't stay dead in your world either?"
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Date: 2022-09-17 11:28 pm (UTC)Drake pauses, trying to figure out how to explain the difference between zombies in the media and zombies in reality back home to someone who doesn't have the media context.
"What you're describing is called a zombie in my world, and technically speaking they're fictional. As far as I know, nothing can reanimate. Dead is dead, for us. But there is also a highly contagious disease going around that kind of mimics it in the living. If you don't manage the symptoms... similar deal." Another beat, and Drake glances away. His voice is softer when he speaks again. "I used to have it."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-18 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-18 09:35 pm (UTC)The other questions he needs a moment to think about, and he knows what Jesus is going to ask next. How was he cured, then? But that's a bit of a story. So one thing at a time.
"It's transmitted through scratches and body fluids. Wasn't too common at first, so we were staying under the radar. But my ex was in Hadriel at one point and she said the situation back home had... changed. For the worse. The government had quarantined the city."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-18 09:43 pm (UTC)"I'm sorry..."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-18 10:24 pm (UTC)If things don't go completely to hell before he does, that is. Drake's choosing to be optimistic, since he'll probably never know one way or another. What good does it do him to assume his world dies?
None. So he won't.
He quirks a small grin, jumping right to answering the unasked question he's pretty sure is coming. Well, sort of. For any of it to make sense there's some explaining that needs to happen.
"I never mentioned the war going on in Hadriel, did I? Or that I was a Guard leader there?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-18 10:31 pm (UTC)"How did you manage the sickness there?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-18 11:16 pm (UTC)"Magic, basically. The thing was, being infected made me stronger in a lot of ways. So I'd stayed a zombie to better protect the city, but there were some really close calls. Earlier tonight when we were talking about going hungry when we were cut off from that one alien? Most people could stockpile while he was at full power and usually we could hunt or fish, people had gardens... worst case they'd lose some weight. But me?"
It's rare that Drake's visibly tense, but this is one of those times. He doesn't talk about this much, and since he's comfortable enough to do so there's no point in hiding how he feels about it. The memories are traumatic.
"You manage the symptoms by feeding. That's the only thing that keeps you yourself. It sucks, but you do it because a zombie from my world who doesn't eat essentially turns into a zombie from your world. A mindless, rotting monster. I came close once, the second time I definitely would've turned if there hadn't been somebody willing to put me on ice. Defrosting hurt like hell, but nobody I loved had to put me down." He hesitates, jaw working, before deciding to just get through the rest of the explanation quickly. "Anyway, when the war was really coming to a head, I decided I was gonna be selfish for once. I didn't want to die as a zombie again, or worse... win or lose the war, if we lost Hope for good somebody would have to put me down. So I finally made a deal. What you're looking at now isn't the same body I was born in."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 02:30 am (UTC)"They did a good job," he says, with a little smile, but it fades.
"I'm infected. Everyone is. When I die, if my friends don't put me down, I'll try to kill them." At least that had been true before he died and came here. The fear of it, the absolute terror of it, hasn't gone away. If anything it's become worse, being forced to get close to so many people. He could become Patient Zero here.
"I'm looking into magic to cure it here. I dont' know if I believe in magic, but I'm desperate."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 02:57 am (UTC)"Are you sure you're still infected?" Drake asks, brow furrowed with thought as much as concern. "Cuz I've been told that anything that could be sexually transmitted or life threatening is cured when we wind up here. No idea how, but it does track. And there's no explanation behind how people just come back from the dead. Who knows what they do to us?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 03:02 am (UTC)"...How bad was it?" Being a zombie.
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Date: 2022-09-19 03:28 am (UTC)The question of how bad it was, though?
"Horrible, but you know it's not the same. I wasn't dead. Even once I wasn't me anymore, I wasn't really dead. Just gone. So at that point it was only bad for Liv because she had to put me down, and I don't remember that part. Just what they did to me before."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 02:50 pm (UTC)"... What they did to you before?"
no subject
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."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 05:17 pm (UTC)It doesn't matter how many times he hears about things like this, sees them happen, has them done to him, it never stops effecting him.
"I wish they could have rescued you, too."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 05:23 pm (UTC)"I wish they could've rescued everyone. But I don't regret buying the others that time." A hesitation, then, gently... "You should find out if it's still in you, Jesus. Let me make some calls?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 05:30 pm (UTC)"If they can't cure it, I don't know what I'll do, Drake."
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 05:57 pm (UTC)"One step at a time, don't jump to that. Nothing's ever hopeless. I've got your back, okay?"
no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 07:53 pm (UTC)He shifts a little closer, nudging Jesus's shoulder with his to try and get him to look up.
"If you infected me? It's already done. I might be the only other person in the whole city besides you three with personal experience telling friends where they've gotta shoot if I ever turn, and I'm saying it's not your fault."
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