a little dream of her | part i

[groundrules]

A LITTLE DREAM OF HER

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This is the first of two logs covering the Dream county travel Arc — it stretches until 23 April OOCly and covers roughly one IC week. There is an entirely optional wedding mystery plot, which will depend heavily on information gathering, sharing and deduction, rather than on supernatural powers.

Boarding scenarios for existing and new characters are covered under the Old Timers and New Arrivals header, respectively. Click on the tabs for details!

OLD TIMERS

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Absorbing Wrath, Licyn and Yelena’s feedback, King Deimar of Alem decides against joining his brother Haiva in ‘noble sacrifice’ to hell. Good news for the party, who depends on royal savvy to reach Alem’s otherworld transport beacon, buried in the labyrinthine tunnels beneath crumbling Alem.

■ Deimar and his paladins guide small groups back to the beacon — but the keypoint’s war-drained energies only let a handful of party members out. Characters who have dropped or been swept by AC during Arc VI go home. You can also canon update your character now.

The party must heads onwards east, boarding a dreamy train at a station near Hassir. Here, find exotic stalls with wares once intended for Alem — from the latest travel fashions, to unlucky artefacts, heavy alcohol and narcotics. You can even purchase a domestic ghost.

Whether the Merchant supplies a ticket or false staff uniforms for you to proactively sneak aboard, don’t dally — this train runs like clockwork.

NEW ARRIVALS

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You wake up to claustrophobia, ash and gravel in your mouth — and a sense of urgency: run. Midway through a slovenly, rattling underground corridor, you meet an irritable woman, who leads you out, at the foot of a serene, smoke-topped mountain.

The woman passes you a pendant that allows you to understand her and to communicate with others like you. You are one of many otherworlders brought into Akhuras by undead lords who seek to weaponise you, as they battle humans and each other for dominion. Don’t believe her? Look up. The holy citadel Alem yet burns before the dead armies of Rahakku.

The woman is Karsa, an associate of the elusive Merchant, who collects and leads otherworlders east, where ancient beacons can transport them home.

Regrettably, you’re late — you arrived with the unexpected last gasps of Alem’s dying beacon and must now catch up with the others, who’ve departed on the Sandman train express.

WHY THE LONG FACE?

Karsa barters for a carriage led by two nightmare horses, along with several such steeds for confident riders. These are mercurial mounts and dizzyingly fast — your only shot to reach a train travelling through Dream county.

■ Karsa warns you must not fall asleep during travel. The horses will invade your nightmares, consuming your vital energy while you suffer asleep.

■ Talk at all times or sound the shrill silver bells Karsa provides to wake up any sleepers.

You reach the seaside village of Kyari, where you must board the incoming Sandman express. Regrettably, the horses have left Karsa with just enough coin for one ticket for the wounded Dean Winchester. Everyone else: make do.

You must also help Karsa sneak in fist-sized, forbidden dream boxes. Try to avoid the Sandman’s guards and their canine sentries, who scent newly boarding passengers for such contraband. Return the boxes to Karsa once on the train.

You’ve got 45 minutes to board, once the Sandman reaches its rustic station. Some options?

■ Play stowaway and break the rustier locks of the economy class cars.

■ Sweet talk the depressed Conductor. You bought, but just… forgot your ticket.

■ Distract the guards while your group boards, so they can sneak you on after.

■ Plant dream contraband on another would-be passenger, when the dogs draw close.

■ Ride one of those god-forsaken horses and jump on top of the train once it starts moving, then make your way in through ceiling hatches. God help.

A fully veiled young woman might lend you a hand.

THE SANDMAN

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All aboard… the Sandman, a majestic 100-car train that gallops on an emaciated railway across Dream county. Ghosts and dream residents wave as it passes by.

The Sandman stops once after leaving Alem, at seaside village Kyari, before crossing the abyss of the Cradle — the turbulent, storm-prone birthplace of dreams, where it is constantly night-time.

Some say the Cradle is only a cauldron for those who steal dreams or make them into living things. Others say the Cradle has its own mind.

To avoid igniting dream storms, passengers are strictly prohibited from carrying dream tokens and performing dream magic. Characters find their powers are significantly reduced while travelling on the Sandman.

New arrivals join the Sandman at Kyari with group caretaker Karsa, who introduces them to the old party.

■ The Sandman offers exquisite single-person compartments with en-suite bathrooms for First Class passengers, while Second Class travellers share generous cabins in pairs, and up to four voyagers can bunk up in… cozy Third Class cabins. Shared bathrooms and a small sauna cabin are also available.

■ You can hide in the staff, luggage or coal stock rooms.

■ You can decide your character’s First/Second/Third Class, staff or stowaway status. (Pick a job for staff!)

■ The LOST & FOUND booth contains an assortment of clothes and items forgotten by passengers, which you can raid (within reason). Latest findings: cigarettes, medical-grade opiate powders, a a beautiful green dress and pink striped men’s suit, all brought in after the Sandman leaves Kyari.

■ Amenities range from dining & bar carts to game, exercise and cinema halls where the (PG-13!) pleasant dreams you’ve gambled away can be viewed freely, or passengers can hold recitals or seminars.

■ You can gamble in regular currency or pleasant dreams (not memories).

■ Travellers are polite and social. You learn early on that you share a voyage with renown heroine and First Class passenger Firo, who, alongside her friends and sister party, picks up her bride Prassenze from Kyari.

■ Within two hours of leaving Kyari, the sky begins to darken, becoming pitch black and occasionally loudly stormed. It stays a starless night time throughout your journey over the Cradle.

■ For communal safety, windows and doors are locked and magically enforced shut after the train departs Kyari. The nightmare storms within the Cradle region crackle with highly chaotic energy that can (re)shape reality, endangering passengers. Deputy conductor Michel Bauc holds the window and door keys. An irritating, tinny, train-wide alarm sounds if anyone tries to force a window open.

■ You might sometimes find fellow passengers trying to exit the train or open the windows to join the storms, while they nap. Do wake up them up.

■ Whether you’re an insomniac or don’t typically need sleep, you find you fall instantly asleep at midnight and awaken refreshed by 8 a.m.

■ A skeletal crew serves the Sandman at night. The most authoritative figure is gloomy Conductor Rossakoff, who slinks silently across the train.

THE MENU

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Trot down to the dining carts for an unforgettable meal included with your ticket. Formal evening attire is expected during dinner. Some courses are lightly sparkled with stimulants that deepen certain aspects of diner’s emotions during the meal — this is not disclosed ICly, but visible to you OOCly in the menu. (ex: the Ham and Laughter Eggs triggers roaring laughter and a good disposition ).

   BREAKFAST

   SUPPER & DINNER

   SNACKS & BEVERAGES

DREAM SMUGGLERS

The new arrivals helped Karsa bring contraband aboard, but they’ve steps to go to their final destination. The sorceress doles out fist-sized boxes containing precious dream fragments of happiness, sadness, fear, surprise, anger, guilt or disgust — explicitly prohibited cargo that regains its magical properties once aboard the Sandman.

Each box comes with instructions for drop off under a dining hall table at midday, under a roulette table by 6 p.m. or in the coal room by 8 p.m. Karsa says the deliveries are an explicit favour from the Merchant to an old (dream thief) friend aboard the Sandman.

■ Pair up for your run! Those who hold dream boxes feel their emotions to a player-chosen degree of intensity, throughout their adventure.

■ Beware the vigilant guards of the Sandman, who run frequent searches for illicit dream artefacts. Some bring dream-catching dogs who catch the scent of the dreamed things.

■ You may feel unusually sleepy while holding dream boxes. Doze, and you wake up to find your dreams have summoned a wo/man, child or animal whose temperament embodies the box’s emotion. They can’t help drawing attention, but slowly disappear within 30-60 minutes — wait, are those the guards?

■ Caught smugglers are locked into ‘jail’ cabins, while their contraband is placed in the office of Conductor Rossakoff. First-time captives can be bailed out at ludicrous expense or in exchange for maid service, but repeat offenders are jailed
for the rest of the voyage. Liberate your dream box back from the Conductor’s strangely barren, otherwise untouched compartment.

■ Successfully delivered boxes feed into the mystery of the missing bride. You mysteriously fall asleep to a sweet dream if you wait to meet the collector — and wake up to a feeling of wrongness, as if reality is mute and diffuse around you, before your hearing and vision resettle.

THE GROUNDHOG WEDDING: A MYSTERY

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Firo’s bride Prassenze boards the Sandman from Kyari. She comes alone, veiled head to toe, and only brings a modest case. She is short, thin, pale and shy, prone to silence and retiring to her cabin at the earliest opportunity — a far cry from boisterous Firo.

…so much so that Firo’s sister Lita and friends Dulcinea, Maiza and Attru tell anyone who’ll listen that Firo is marrying this girl after courting her for six months through correspondence. Even bashful Hugo admits the pair is… perhaps a little mismatched. This is their first in-person encounter.

■ The wedding party members plead or offer coin for you to coerce the loving pair to delay their marriage — or to sabotage the wedding, due to take place in two days.

■ An enthusiastic Firo meanwhile asks if you can help with celebratory clothing or wedding ornaments.

■ Shortly after, Lita appears lost in her thoughts and altogether not there, clutching a letter in hand, the day after the Sandman departs Kyari.

HERE COMES THE BRIDE... AGAIN

1.0

No one forgets their wedding night — least of all brave Firo, who, vows performed, makes merry with her group and timid bride over a magnificent feast in the dining halls. Everyone is invited.

The blushing bride is visibly infatuated with Firo, but overwhelmed by the loud, relentless social activity. She hardly speaks to anyone, other than Firo, whose friends complain increasingly loudly that Prassenze is aloof, a cold fish, and thinks herself above them.

Prassenze excuses herself to freshen up in her cabin. Nearly an hour’s absence later, a worried Firo checks up on her — finding the bride’s compartment locked from the inside. Once the door is forced open, the partygoers — and you? — discover the inside stormed, bridal veils discarded on the floors, and windows widely open as the Cradle’s nightmare tempests rage.

The bride has vanished.

Terrified, Firo questions everyone in earnest, accepting your assistance to find Prassenze.

2.0.

You wake up next morning to find everyone reliving the same wedding day, which only fellow otherworlders recall. Squinting outside, you see new landscape — suggesting the Sandman has covered a day’s journey.

The bride Prassenze is present again, but sharply different in appearance and manner. Now, she is closer to Firo in size, her build athletic. Her manner is brusque, assertive, commanding. Some in Firo’s group are put off, others frightened. Firo appears a little taken aback by her bride’s domineering nature.

During the second wedding, a drunk Maiza and Dulcinea quarrel with Prassenze, who doesn’t back down. A frustrated Firo tries to break the fight, verbally lashing out at her friends for drinking and at Prassenze for stooping to their intoxicated level.

Prassenze storms to her cabin. She is once more found missing, when searched. As before, her compartment was locked from the inside, the window is wide open, and her veils have been abandoned.

3.0.

You wake up to a third wedding day, with only party otherworlders recalling the past two days. Prassenze looks and acts differently from the first and second wedding day — now she is of average build and height, with an especially jovial, overly friendly manner, prone to laughter and pranks. This time, she drinks with Firo’s friends, plays (and wins!) at many of their card and dice games, humours their stories and even flirts — but is so devoted to Firo’s group that she accidentally neglects Firo herself throughout the day. Firo repeatedly tries to coax her to spend time together, but fails, and abandons her during the wedding feast — perhaps meeting you for a drink instead?

Realising she has driven Fire away, a distressed Prassenze once more withdraws into her compartment at the end of the (third) wedding night — and disappears, leaving the same clues behind as on the first and second wedding day.

There are no further repetitions and time passes regularly after the third wedding day. The morning after, apothecary passenger Rigolante mentions asks Conductor Rossakoff to conduct a search, as some of his herbs and measuring tools have gone missing.

■ Player characters can change events and investigate during the second and third groundhog wedding days. Regrettably, Prassenze still disappears.

■ Non-PC characters and the Sandman’s crew only recall the third wedding day.

■ Conductor Rossakoff says the number of dreamers whose dreams help propel the Sandman during the obligatory midnight-8 a.m. nap — what do you know, you were helping all along! — has stayed the same since leaving Kyari, meaning the bride is alive on board. No one seems able to find her… help a distraught Firo find her missing wife!

CAST & CREW

	FIRO Good-humoured, sincere and just heroine, renown for her many feats of bravery — from rescuing villages to outwitting sphinxes and challenging immortals. Loud and prone to laughter. Quick to tell everyone about her beloved Prassenze.
	CONTESSA LITA Doting older sister of Firo, married to a Count who prefers a quiet life at his countryside estate. Preposterously wealthy and fashionable. Life of every party.
	MAIZA Once a gifted mathematician, Maiza quickly realized there is more money for the modern man to make from his brawns than his brains. After retraining as a barbarian, he served as muscle (and accountant) during many of Firo’s adventures..
	ATTRU The prince of a distant land, some say descended from wolves. Walks among men to learn their ways. Looks young, but will mention at least three wives and five children in the first five minutes of conversation. Smooth.
	DULCINEA Redeemed mercenary, who once used to sell her sword to anyone with the coin to spare — some say, even the dead! Turned an honest leaf after meeting Firo, of whom she is very protective. At times still sinister at her edges.
	HUGO A pilot turned priest, or a priest turned pilot. Met Firo during his many travels. Soft-spoken, mild-mannered, but jittery, with the kind of thin nerves that suggest he has survived numerous fraught circumstances.
	RIGOLANTE An apothecary of exotic drugs and herbs. He had hoped to make his fortune in Alem, but arrived just as the fortress crumbled, before he could sell enough of his wares. Prays he will find better fortune east.
	CONDUCTOR ROSSAKOFF The gloom and doom of the Sandman, eerily tall, slinking and silent. Passengers prefer to deal with deputy conductor Michael Bauc because of Rossakoff’s intimidating and discouraging presence. Takes a hard stand on smuggling or passenger misbehaviour and all but worships the Sandman.
	PRASSENZE The all-veiled bride of Firo, boarding at Kyari. Not once, not twice, but thrice disappeared.

IC TIMELINE

Day 01: Boarding at Hassir/Alem (morning)

Day 03: Boarding at Kyari (midday); within two hours of departing, the Sandman starts journeying on the railway above the abyssal Cradle — the sky is pitch black at all hours, nightmare storms rattle the train.

Day 04: Lita begins to behave airily, as if she’s not quite present.

Day 05: First wedding (16:00) and wedding feast (19:00)

Day 06: Second wedding (16:00) and wedding feast (19:00)

Day 07: Third wedding (16:00) and wedding feast (19:00).

Day 08: Rigolante asks Conductor Rossakoff to enforce a search for his missing herbs and recipients.

QUESTIONS

NPC THREADS

Comments

[saintclaire]

Kim is contemplative and quiet for a beat, her expression carefully neutral. Inside, her brain is running a mile a minute. She asks herself: is this someone Jimmy’d go into business with? Would she? If it’s past tense, what happened?

There’s a million questions she could ask, but this is not a courtroom. She feels reasonably certain that he’s friendly, and she can lean on that. Relaxing feels impossible, but she can at least be calm.

“What kind of business?” she asks. She offers him something in turn, a scrap: “He and I go way back.”

She doesn’t expect a clear or honest answer. Not for a heartbeat. Something like cell phones, some creative, off-label use of an existing market.

[yeahmagnets]

Telling him they go way back is a scrap Jesse'll eat right up--he files that bit of information away, but it's not enough for him to trust her with classified information. Even though a friend of Saul's is a friend of his, he isn't about to go talking about how he runs one of the top methamphetamine rings in the southwest with Saul's assistance. That would just be ridiculous.

"Uh, sales." He doesn't look so certain about that statement, and it's crystal clear (no pun intended har har) that he's leaving it so vague intentionally. Let her come to her own conclusions. Her reactions will steer him in figuring out whether she's 'safe' or not when it comes to disclosing any details. So far she's been relatively friendly--or a least civil, and she knows Saul well, both of which speak positively to her character, at least in Jesse's eyes.

[saintclaire]

There’s a little pinch to her expression, something like intrigue.

“You look a little young to be his burner phone guy.” I’m involved, her looks says. She knows about the mischief. She gives him a deliberate once-over, as if to imply something. “You’re not…?”

She trails, leading somewhere.

[yeahmagnets]

"I'm twenty-five." Jesse says back, a little too quickly.

There may or may not be a slight chip on his shoulder about having a baby face. Hell, he still gets carded sometimes, though it hasn't happened here yet.

"Not what?" He asks, brow arched with suspicion.

He doesn't know where she's going with that and how could he, given she's from a time years earlier even if they haven't fully established the time gap aloud. He figures someone who cares this much about Goodman would know who he is given the nature of their relationship, but maybe he's the type to keep business and pleasure separate. Jesse, after all, had never heard of Kim before...

[saintclaire]

Nearly half Jimmy's age, she could point out, but she keeps that to herself. She folds her arms across her ribs, momentarily without elaboration, and her gaze drifts aside. She checks over her shoulder, slow and subtle, and when she's certain no one else is around, she fixes her eyes on him again, serious and intense.

"You're not a friend, are you?"

There's a delicate bit of pressure on friend. Not drinking buddies, not work friends. Cartel friends.

/facepalm

[yeahmagnets]

"Uh, yeah, I am. A friend, like...y'know..." Jesse squints at Kim, trying to decipher what exactly she's trying to insinuate, what with the little emphasis she puts on the word friend. She may be thinking she's sending her message loud and clear, but, well, this is Jesse we're talking about here. His mind immediately goes to a different wavelength entirely as he gets an almost offended look on his face.

"Wait--no! Like, totally platonic, no homo, friend. We work together, like I said." Excuse his crass language. He's totally not against being gay or anything. He's just used to being around an obnoxious group of guys. But the look on Kim's face tells him he's got it all wrong and now he's hopelessly confused. Help him out here, Kim!

"Uh...what kinda friend are you talkin' about?"

LMAO I love him

[saintclaire]

Kim's glad she doesn't lose the coolness on her face, even if a streak of helplessness runs through her –– she's only ever been on the periphery of cartel business, and she's sure there's a litany of codes and phrases that could communicate what she's asking more clearly. Then again, maybe he's not involved at all, and this is just a wild goose chase, paranoia about the shape of the future with Lalo still out there. But what the fuck else would they have business in? This kid doesn't look like a retirement home magnate, or like any kind of con artist.

"That's not at all what I'm implying," she replies, a little curt. The way she shifts, refolding her arm in the other direction, is a flicker of real discomfort. She hates gambling. She asks, bluntly: "I'm asking if this is cartel business."

They're the only people who dress business relationships up as friendship, and if she's right, this guy is some low-level dealer.

[yeahmagnets]

"Friend of the c--" Jesse starts out entirely too loud, bordering on yelling, but he gets a hold of himself before the keyword slips out at far too high a volume.

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing and takes a quick look around, making sure his little outburst hasn't attracted any unwanted attention. Luckily for them, the coast is still clear. He leans in, this time talking in an exaggerated stage whisper, still trying to get across his frustrations with the question without raising the volume of his voice.

"I dunno who you think I am exactly, but I'm no friend of any cartel." He takes a deep breath and then relaxes a little bit, feeling kind of bad at the tone he's taking with her. He tends to get defensive when he feels like he's being cornered. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a breath, trying to figure out how to best explain himself.

"The guy I work under is, like, totally anti-cartel. Has some beef with 'em from what I know. They've been, um...messing with his shipments." He's probably already given too much information here, but it's not like he can get thrown in jail for something he did in an alternate universe, right? Kim doesn't even come from the same time as him. Feeling a little stressed from the conversation and from doling out information like candy, he searches his pockets, not even worried in the slightest about how dirty his hands are as he fishes a cigarette from his pack. He pauses, a lighter in hand.

"Think there's someplace we can smoke around here? You want one?" Jesse holds out his pack, index finger keeping the top flap pried open.

[saintclaire]

It's information she wasn't expecting, but it's information just the same, and it hits Kim like a thrown brick. It not being the cartel should be a relief, but it being someone with cartel conflict wipes all that out. Competitors, obviously. It feels unfair to be immediately upset with Jimmy, but the feeling is there anyway, a deep papercut sting that can't be undone just by telling herself it's immaterial to their lives as-is.

Just like Jimmy to go from the frying pan into the fire.

"I have no idea who you are," Kim says, pointed, an unyielding firmness in her voice at that. This kid is more complicated than just a troubled guy who needed his friend to stay out of trouble so he'd have a place to go, but he seems his age, certainly no more put together than Christian had been. She swallows hard, gaze moving to the cigarettes –– how long has it been since her last normal, Earth cigarette? –– and she relents. "Yeah, we can go to a break between the cars."

She turns to lead him out, immediately deciding she can't spend another minute in this stifling coal room, and then stops to gesture at the box in his possession.

"And don't let anyone see that you still have that."

[yeahmagnets]

"O...kay? Then let's start simple. I'm Jesse. Saul usually calls me Pinkman, but that's my last name." He knows she wasn't scrounging for introductions or anything, but he wants to make sure she knows he's not a threat here, what with the Cartel accusations and all.

"Uh...here's the thing--I'm s'posed to leave this here to get picked up, apparently." Jesse gently sets the dream box down on top of the burlap bag of coal that he'd fallen asleep on earlier. "I dunno by who, but that Karsa lady seemed pretty insistent and I don't wanna get caught carrying it around, either. They got these dogs. Like drug-sniffing dogs, but they're out for all this stuff instead." He explains, gesturing to the dream box, even though she's probably more knowledgeable than he is about it all considering she's been here a while now and this is still his first day.

"You think it's okay if I just leave it there? Go have a smoke and check if it's been picked up after?" Jesse takes a step closer to the door, but his blue eyes stay fixed on that box, itching to pick it back up even if that's not a good idea.

[saintclaire]

"Karsa isn't going to want it left out in the open, and we don't have to go far," she says, with a measure of patience. She looks at her pocket watch to check the time. It's still off the pick-up time, at least by enough to go for a smoke. "Just take it with you, and we'll catch whoever passes through."

A stickler for schedule, as always.

Kim just beckons for him to follow, just a simple jerk of her head. The nearest gap between the trains isn't too far off, and she leads him through the tight hallways, swaying a little bit on her heels with the movement of the train.

"Kim." Introductions work just fine for her; what's she going to do, go to Jimmy and ask him about some baggy-clothed guy, like there aren't a dozen of them in and out of the office every day? She pauses, realizing there's a tension in her chest she can't just disperse. Her own identity isn't going to be quiet for long. "Jimmy –– Saul –– is my husband."

[yeahmagnets]

"Yeah, okay. I'll just, uh--" Jesse tucks the box into his pocket, patting it for good keeping. Hopefully none of those dogs will be making their rounds before he has the chance to drop it off. Jesse follows Kim through the maze-like halls of the train, the rumble of the locomotive always present beneath his sneaker-clad feet.

"Husband?" He asks, a little too much sting on the word, like it's some unheard of suggestion. He softens, though, looking at her, his tone apologetic as he continues.

"I, uh, didn't know he was married." It's the softest blow he can land. With all the gaudy jewelry he's seen Saul bear, none of them have ever been a wedding ring, and he'd mentioned a couple of ex-wives in passing, though Jesse isn't sure if any of those were Kim or if she came after and he was just trying to keep the relationship under wraps. The truth of the matter is, Goodman always knew more about Jesse's life than vice-versa, and he (Saul) liked to keep it that way. It was 'best for business', so he'd explained.

They emerge through a door onto a platform between two of the cars. It's louder out here, wind whipping around them, but he manages to light his cigarette and then cups his hands to shield the wind as she lights the one he offers her.

"Yo; are you okay--Kim?" There's a pause between the question and her name as he exhales the smoke from his first drag, like he tacks on her name as a way to make the question more personal. He actually does care, and that can be noted in the concerned look on his face, the way his sky blue eyes look her over, his brows peaked in worry. This is a good guy. He's not out to get anyone; not when he has a choice in the matter.

[saintclaire]

She takes the cigarette like it’s any other day, but there’s a tick of excitement in her for some shred of normalcy, especially in the midst of a conversation like this. Her first drag on it is long and deep, and the familiar burn comes with a near-instant relaxation in her muscles, one she feels everywhere but her iron grip on the railing between the cars. Strands of blonde hair escape her ponytail in the wind, and the look she gives Jesse is mildly bewildered, even in the face of his sweet (if unnecessary) concern.

“Yeah,” she says, as quickly as if it’s been startled out of her. “This just wasn’t the conversation I expected I’d be having.”

Kim pauses, lowering the cigarette momentarily, shielding it from the wind with her body. There’s a terrible dread in her that even nicotine can’t stave off. It’s not about their marriage; Jimmy’s drawn lines between her and his clients before. Especially around Lalo.

“Is he safe?”

In the future. In a time where he is working against the cartel.

[yeahmagnets]

Jesse, conversely, leans back against the 'wall' of the train--beside the door they'd come out of. He's more relaxed than she is, like he's done this before--hung out on moving trains, between the cars, and he has. He's no stranger to hopping in boxcars; taking a ride here or there like any misguided teenager too young to drive or otherwise without a car. He's less willing to admit yet another reason for stowing away on a train, and that's just 'to see the world' and 'clear his mind'. Take some time to himself, sketch what he sees in a beatup notebook. Those are memories he'll likely take to the grave, though.

"I don't think any of this is expected...I mean.." Jesse pulls the pocketwatch from his jeans, eyeing the time as his cheeks hollow with a long, slow drag off of his cigarette. He blows the smoke out of the side of his mouth before focusing on Kim again. "Right about now I'm s'posed to be working. This laundromat. Lavandaria Brillante." He rattles the name off with a weak Spanish accent.

Jesse's head darts in Kim's direction, though, his eyes focusing on her with her words. He lets them sink in a few moments before nodding. "Yeah. He's like...how you say--on neutral ground? Pretty sure any enemies of mine don't even know about 'im. He's like, uh, how d'you put it...a silent partner or whatever. Not so silent when it comes to me but y'know what I mean." Jesse explains, flicking some ash to the ground. It's quickly swept away by the wind whipping around them as the train flies along the tracks.

"He's safe." Jesse reassures her, a nod given to solidify that statement. "Saved my ass a couple times, even." As if that'd be reassuring news. But he's trying to put forward the point that he'd only ever been in more trouble than Saul. That nothing bad had come the shifty lawyer's way. At least nothing he couldn't handle.

[saintclaire]

None of that is hard to reconcile, and that alone makes it feel like those weeks after telling Lalo off were delusional. The weeks where she chose to pretend it was over, even worse. What have the past six months been, then? Denial? A convenient dislodging of reality, on the world’s most harrowing honeymoon?

She takes a long drag, eyes momentarily fixed on the landscape beyond the train. It is falling away under the inky darkness of night, and their windy nook of the train feels that much colder for it. The end of their cigarettes are the brightest lights outside what bleeds from the windows. For an instant it feels lonelier and more terrible than the hell they’ve just come from, and then it isn’t.

Everything here is on his word, and while that’s far from comforting, it is bracing, and that’s got to be enough, at least until she can talk to Jimmy.

“I know what you mean,” she agrees, finally. “If there’s anyone who can get you out of trouble, it’s him.”

It isn’t her way to gush, least of all now, but she allows herself that much. It’s easier than the reality that Jesse hasn’t asked for, the things Jimmy has endured and barely survived, the losses he has suffered for some of those wins.

Jesus. What are they going to do?

And then, with a sudden curiosity:

“You’re competing with the cartel and you work at a laundromat?”

[yeahmagnets]

Jesse follows Kim's gaze to the landscape that lies beyond the two of them and the train. It's almost peaceful, save for the wind and the noise. The sky feels like it stretches even farther than it had in New Mexico and it somehow makes Jesse feel even smaller; even more alone. Kim at least has Jimmy. Jesse, well, he's got nobody. Not even Saul, really, because here Saul is known as Jimmy and doesn't remember him.

Back home, sure, he was surrounded by some types that would make most people shudder. Hitmen, drug lords, a corrupt lawyer, and a chemistry teacher turned methamphetamine mastermind. But there were people watching his back and now, in the darkness and the wind, he's realizing that he's the only one looking out for him. He'd thought he was lonely after Jane died, but this somehow feels even emptier. Even more bleak. He's trying not to let it get to him though, and even more--he's trying not to show it.

"Not so much at as under. I, uh--there's this lab under it. The laundromat's like, a totally legit business, but it's also kind of a front. A cover, y'know?" He doesn't go into what exactly is being cooked up in said lab, but methamphetamines are a common drug in New Mexico and Kim seems like an intelligent woman. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to make assumptions, and probably correct ones at that.

[saintclaire]

There are never any surprises like this in the court room, or there isn't supposed to be, anyway: the discovery process, evidence submissions, mountains of paperwork. She'd say a solid eighty percent of her job is just that, and that's always been fine. It suits her. But it's also the place where everything can be turned on its head by the right agent, whoever is willing to flip the script on how things are supposed to go, and that's what makes Jimmy such a delight to watch in the court room. The clues are there –– the cartel, past precedent –– but you never quite know where it's going until you're there.

Kim is an intelligent woman, and while her face does little more than pinch into concern, this information leads to difficult places.

"Okay," she says. This is her workshopping voice, serious but interested. Jimmy being involved in something like that and all the assumptions that go with it makes her feel something deep and ugly under the numbness of problem-solving, but it's the future. If there's anything she's learned here, it's that the tide can be changed on near impossible situations.

She taps the ash off her cigarette and takes a long drag, looking at him dead in the eye, as if she could reach right into him and pull out a full picture of the state of things. He doesn't look like he's on stable ground.

"How long has that been going on?"

[yeahmagnets]

"I dunno exactly. I--lemme think. Uh, my partner, he started working with the guy who owns the lab back in like...April? Early April, I think. It was, um. It was right around the time my ex-girlfriend--" Jesse pauses and stares down at his feet. He feels the wind whipping around him; takes a deep breath of the cool night air. When his blue eyes raise up to meet Kim's again, they're glassy with unshed tears. He's trying to hold it together, and he won't lose it entirely; not now, but he can't help the reaction he has.

"She died right around then.' Jesse continues, clearing his throat and bringing his arm up to swipe across his eyes quickly. 'Anyways, I started at the lab a little while after that. Maybe like...a month or somethin'? I don't know if they had things up an' running before my partner and I started workin' there. I just know it was all built and ready to go by the time I had eyes on it."

Jesse offers the best he can when it comes to information. He's always been a little more out of the loop than Mr. White. Mainly because he's learned to ask fewer questions.

"But Saul--Jimmy--he's got nothin' to do with it directly. Didn't even know my boss' name at first. I dunno if he does now but, um. He's just, uh. He gets a percentage. For laundering and, y'know, being the contact. Finder's fee or whatever." Jesse says, flicking some more ash off of his cigarette. He takes a long drag after that, inhaling it deep, needing the nicotine to calm his nerves. His blue eyes keep flickering between Kim and the night sky.

[saintclaire]

A timeline assembles itself in her mind, as crisp as her own handwriting on a yellow legal pad. Details of lives she doesn't know, all intertwining with the life that matters most to her. With hers, too, she imagines. There is a place for her in that, kept carefully separated by the veil that is Saul Goodman. I'm in the game. You're not in the game.

How many gray duffle bags is this netting them? How many legal clinics and houses does one couple need?

"I'm sorry about your girlfriend," she says, because it's appropriate, and because his honesty seems to need it: he's an open wound, and maybe he hasn't heard it enough. "Was it related to...?"

She gestures with her cigarette hand, smoke trailing behind it in a figure eight. Crime? Industry? Meth?

[yeahmagnets]

Well, Saul's netting a whole hell of a lot. Jesse has no idea about Kim. He didn't even know Saul was married up until she mentioned their relationship. Even then, the guy has mentioned at least one ex-wife in their conversations. Nothing was mentioned that would've had Jesse clamoring for details or anything. All he knows is that he'd been married more than once and, now, that Kim's likely one of those wives Saul had mentioned in his past. He doesn't need to go and shatter whatever dream Kim has for her and Jimmy's future. He doesn't want that for her; so he's quiet, as far as relinquishing unnecessary information that would only serve to cause her pain.

"An overdose." Jesse interrupts or maybe doesn't--her words trail off either way, and he speaks up in the pause.

"Heroin." He clarifies, wanting to make sure it's clear that it wasn't the substance he's been in charge of making. Like that makes a difference. He's still feeling guilt for Jane's death. Rehab didn't make a bit of difference aside from making him believe he's the bad guy in the scenario. He's the one who cooks and sells stuff that ruins lives. It's become an easy routine, sadly, but, unlike others involved, Jesse never overlooks the consequences.

He blinks and feels the wet trails on his cheeks as the wind blows on his face. He scrubs his tattooed hand over it, trying to conceal the tears, but it's clearly too late. "Sorry." He says, not entirely sure why he's apologizing. For crying, sure, but the gesture is more instinct than thought out.

[saintclaire]

His tears surprise her; something about the baggy clothes and tattoos and shaved head said something about swaggering street masculinity, and she imagined it'd take at least some sort of blanket ambivalence towards users to go into business exploiting them. Either this guy is different or his girlfriend's death was so recent the wound hasn't even scabbed over, and Kim's expression softens a little, the ash on the end of her cigarette growing.

"Don't apologize," she says, simply. A question burrows itself in the back of her head, but she tucks it away for another time. "It's good that you can open up about it. Lots of people, they just..."

She gives a little shrug.

"Take a minute. Deep breaths."

sorry this is so long there was a lot of introspection/narrative. don't feel pressured to match!

[yeahmagnets]

Working in a lab isn't quite the same as slinging on the streets, and even then--his customers had primarily been the 'high functioning addict' types. He didn't bother going into the grimy slums or the crack houses to peddle his wares, and maybe telling himself those places weren't safe to deal at was a subconscious way of protecting him from seeing firsthand what his practices were doing to people. It smacked him right in the face once, though.

When he'd been sent to recover stolen product from a couple of junkies who'd gotten the upper hand on one of his street-level dealers, Skinny Pete. He'd been sent by Mr. White to "handle it", and he'd figured that meant with a gun. So he got high and showed up tweaking, gun quaking in his hand that he barely knew how to use. But, when he entered the dilapidated abode, he wasn't greeted by two junkies. They were out, of course--trying to score more, like always.

What he was greeted with, however, was a kid. Their kid. Scrawny and malnourished, too old to be in a diaper yet still wearing one, with no pants and a shirt on, cheeks smudged with dirt and nose snotty. The kid didn't even question a complete stranger being in the house--simply clambered up onto the couch next to him and began watching the only channel they could get on the TV--some infomercial selling knives. It was then that the repercussions of what he did to earn money really stared him in the face and made him think twice. It didn't stop him, but it sure made him think.

At the end of the day, he called the authorities, wiped his prints off the phone, and wrapped the kid on the front porch in a blanket, wishing him a 'good rest of your life, kid'. It was risky, but it was right.

"Some people just hold it in. Yeah." Jesse nods, knowing the type. Sometimes he tries to hold back what he's feeling, but he's rarely, if ever, successful at it. Jesse's the type who wears his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse. He follows Kim's advice, though, taking slow breaths, feeling the cool air fill his lungs and letting it all out slowly. It works, and his heart rate gently comes down, an uneasy peace settling over him.

"Anyway...I started workin' at the lab a while after Jane died. Went to rehab first--got my shit right and my head on straight. A little after I got out I got into an altercation with this DEA agent. It's why--" Jesse trails off, gesturing to his face--the fading bruises and cuts, the still-apparent swelling over one cheekbone. A healing gash through his lip. "The guy got pissed, showed up at my house and just beat me into the ground. He didn't have anything on me--just lost it. Saul, uh, Jimmy came to me in the hospital. Said he'd represent me. But I dropped the charges eventually. Seeing as it was, uh...well, the guy's my business partner's brother-in-law." Jesse sighs up at the sky, baring his throat as he tips his head back, almost like he's wondering how he ever got wrapped up in this entire mess.

APOLOGIES, this month devoured me. Feel free to drop if it's too late!

[saintclaire]

She watches his chest rise and fall, the movement matching the sound of the train tracks underneath them, feeling like she can feel the gears turning in his head much faster than they need to for the moment. Whatever he's thinking of, it's not just miles behind them, it's a dimension away –– that's a thought that's as lonely to her as it is bracing. No matter how far you get, the past always catches up.

"Sounds like a complicated situation," she remarks. And just up Jimmy's alley. She doesn't have any trouble imagining him tracking a client down in the depths of a hospital, or jumping at the chance to give the DEA some hell, and that's bracing, despite the gnawing feeling in her gut.

She taps the end of her cigarette off, the ash catching on the wind and sailing off alongside the train car.

"This DEA agent doesn't know you or his brother-in-law are involved in this. Then why go after you?"