video || Day 83

[dowhatisays]

[Charlie doesn't look so good right now. Seems to be a theme with him when he's desperate enough to actually post on this thing. But the welled up anger and frustration about this whole situation is itching under his skin to do something. Like subject the whole town to his dark-circled eyes and ridiculous curly haystack of hair. You're welcome.]

Anyone got a fucking soup recipe or some shit? Like we even got anything to fucking cook with.

I got shit to trade for it if you do got any.

[He gives the camera a glare, clearly seeing if he has any other reason to say anything. Apparently not. The feed ends.]


[ooc: After the 'Meyer getting attacked by a tiger' plot. Charlie is home with the sicky and not happy about it.]

Comments

[magnets]

[ Jesse gets the pot filled with a healthy amount of water, sets it down on the table vaguely between them. Collaborative effort, right? And he'll make himself at home by cracking himself open a beer of his own, even pauses a beat or two before he takes himself a couple of those percocets too. See? Not poison. ]

Alright. [ Wait, shit, can opener - he digs around in a couple drawers until he finds one, and starts to pry open a can of- peas? Peas. Why not. He looks up at Charlie with a hopeful grin. ] This shit can't be too hard, right? Figger- I mean, I figger the rice'll cook right in the pot, this other shit too. Yeah?

[ clearly we are dealing with a master chef in the works here ]

[dowhatisays]

[Hopefully whatever they end up with won't make Meyer feel actually worse.]

We should put like salt in the water or something, right?

[Cooking rice can't be different from pasta, can it?]

[magnets]

[ Frankenstein soup is better than no soup, at least. Jesse starts unceremoniously dumping these vegetables into the pot. All of them. All the vegetables. ]

Yeah, yeah, good idea. [ He stops, to gesture at Charlie and lean in a little knowingly. ] Makes the water boil faster, actually. Chemistry, yo.

[dowhatisays]

[Oh god, not you too. Why does he surround himself with Brain People.]

Yeah? Don't reckon we got to that before sixth grade.

[magnets]

[ Get ready to have random-ass knowledge bestowed upon you every once in a while, Charlie. The Discovery Channel is Jesse's best friend. ]

Yeah? You drop out early? [ He doesn't sound too phased, just studies this bag of rice with some absolute incredulity. How the fuck you cook this shit anyway. ] Ay, Meyer said he didn't know too much about this shit either.

[dowhatisays]

When I was a kid that weren't considered early.

[At least not in the Lower East Side. He'll be helpful and open a can of mushrooms. They make things better, right? He feels like they should have some sort of seasoning in this but it's not as if they've found a basil plant anywhere yet.]

[magnets]

[ Not early? Sixth grade? Jesse looks at Charlie a little quizzically for a moment, before he goes back to what he's doing, starts dumping some rice into the pot. ] Wasn't too into school when I was comin' up either. Hell, barely made it through high school. Skin'a my teeth. [ He plops the bag of rice down again, leans against the table. ] College didn't work out too hot either.

[ Anyway. He gestures to Charlie again. ] From what I'm hearin', sounds like ya don't do too bad for yourself, though, right? Got yourself some real business shit goin' on.

[dowhatisays]

[College? Fancy.]

Yeah, wes is doing alright. Finding investers and shit, real serious.

[He's starting to feel the edges of the oxy creeping in, and man that is nice stuff.]

Meyer told you about it, did he?

[magnets]

[ He hesitates a moment, eyes going consciously to the camera in the corner of the room before he nods absently. ] Little bit. [ He sniffs and scratches a thumb at the side of his nose before he looks back at Charlie. ] Ya run the cards, I know that. [ A beat. ] Got your hands in some drug runnin' too.

He ever tell you 'bout the possibles we got in the works?

[dowhatisays]

[He follows Jesse's eyes to the camera. Then gets up and tosses a tea towel over it. Feel better?]

Some but he was being real fucking mysterious abut the details.

[Or maybe he just wants to hear it from the man himself. He always prefers first hand information if he can get it.]

[magnets]

[ Well, it can still- hear- Oh well. He'd almost like to see what the guys upstairs would have to say about this shit. ] Meth. [ He watches the covered camera for a moment before he rolls his head over to look directly at Charlie. ]

[ He figures, vaguely, that Charlie knows just about the product as Meyer does, so he summarizes as briefly as he can, ] Ya can make it. All synthetic, ain't like most'a your other dope. [ Spoon, he needs a spoon, and he snatches it briefly out of the same drawer as the can opener, stirs at the pot. ]

And I can cook it. [ He shrugs a shoulder. ] I can cook it real fuckin' good. [ Guardedly, he looks at Charlie again. ] Meyer wants to learn, says we ain't doin' anything 'less you're involved.

[dowhatisays]

[The idea of making dope, just outta thin air as far as he can tell, is a little over Charlie's head. But if he's got Meyer convinced, he'll believe it.]

'course he wants to learn. Finger in every fucking pie, that one.

[He takes another long drag on his beer, ostensibly to think.]

Sos you can make this shit here? Got everything you needs?

[magnets]

Well- [ And he drops the spoon, leans forward on the table again. ] No. Gotta lot of it. Sorta. Short supply'n all. It's the equipment that's the big problem. Ain't got none'a the cookware we need here. Need, like, the flasks, the burners, the- the respirators. That's what I'm workin' on.

Meantime, I can at least teach 'im the basics. The process, what he should be expectin' if we ever can get the cook up and movin'. [ Well. He pauses again, glances back into the house, the direction where he assumes the bedrooms are. ] Once he's ready for it, anyway.

[dowhatisays]

Yeah.

[He glances towards the back of the house, too. He'll check on him, soon. He can't go too long without double-checking he's still breathing.]

You make a list of the shit you need. I'll see what I can finds.

[magnets]

Yeah?

[ He was, after all, dubious about what kind of part Charlie would play in all this - gathering supplies, that'd be a big help, definitely pulling his share. He's hesitant to be excited about this, but it comes out in a bit of a grin. Having something to do here, it'd be more of a help than he can really gauge. And it's not going to be like home. It's quieter here. Nobody's gonna get killed over this shit, not over his dead body. ]

I'll write somethin' up for you. Market, I know that ain't exactly gonna be somethin' real big here, but it's- still somethin' possible, right? Somethin' to do.

[dowhatisays]

[Going out and talking to people has always been his contribution. It could be finding investors or moving product or in this case, pounding the pavement for whatever shit people might have in their attic. It's familiar for Charlie, something he knows he's good at. And familiar feels real fucking good in this place.]

I'm gonna check on Meyer. Keep an eye on the fucking soup, yeah?

[magnets]

Yeah, yeah, go 'head, man. I think we got this soup shit down.

Tell 'im to hang in there for me, huh? [ Even if he's a fuckin' idiot for going out in the damn woods. ]

[dowhatisays]

Don't need to. He ain't going no where.

[Because Meyer doesn't die. Not in a place like this, not from something as fucking stupid as a fucking tiger in the woods, not from nothing. Charlie believes this more than anything, and he's going to make Meyer get better if it kills him.

He checks Meyer's breathing, wakes him up just enough to get a pill in him, and returns slightly more rumpled than before.]

Look fit to eat yet?

[magnets]

[ By the time Charlie gets back, the pot's on the stove and Jesse's idly stirring at it, glances back at him - and looks him over vaguely - with a lazy shrug. He feels a fuckton more relaxed now that his oxy's kicked in, that kind of quiet buzz in his system. ] Just gotta warm up some more and then we're good to go, hombre.

Ya know- [ And he lifts the spoon again, sniffs at it, takes a bit of a sip, and looks back to Charlie again with an easy smile. ] Shit ain't half bad. Kinda bland, I mean, but, yo, it's soup.

[dowhatisays]

[Charlie wanders over and takes a taste himself. Shit, he's had worse. He did go to juvie, after all. You learn to get a lot less picky after that.]

Could use pepper but I don't reckon we got any.

[magnets]

What? You don't got-

[ Jesse suddenly looks around the kitchen, wrinkles his nose a bit. ]

Don't you got any- y'know, spices?

[dowhatisays]

It ain't like I'm fucking cooking or anything heres.

[magnets]

[ Jesse looks back at him, deadpan. ] Well, you're cookin' now, aren'tcha? [ Or at least sitting back while Jesse largely makes this soup, whatever. ] Not even, like, basil? Everybody's got basil. Check the cupboards, yo.

[dowhatisays]

Why don't you fucking check the fucking cupboards, alright?

[Charlie throws himself back on a kitchen chair, suddenly done with all this. The beer and the percocets and the lack of sleep are all piling up on him, not to mention having to sit on the edge of their bed, holding Meyer by his shoulders as he drank water and biting the inside of his cheek every time he made one of those pained noises that stab him right in the gut. If he were along he might say fuck it and put his head down on the table. But he barely knows this guy, and if they really are going to be business partners he can't let him see him like that. If there's one thing he's learned it's how dangerous it is to show any sign of weakness around people you do business with. So he just scrubs his hands over his face and slumps where he is.]

[magnets]

[ Jesse could snap back at Charlie, almost does until he turns back to the guy and really soaks in how wrung out he looks right now. He drops the spoon in the soup and sighs, scratching a thumb at his brow line. ]

Break a chair or somethin', man. How about ya don't start takin' it out on me? [ But to his credit, he starts looking through the cupboards, pulling them open and pawing haphazardly through them. ] Mosquito bites your ass, you don't start- gunnin' after the guy the mosquito's keepin' hostage. Christ's sake.