[ The lighter casts just enough glow to make the shadows look like they're moving when they're not. Jesse's not sure if that's better or worse than actual movement. The hallway yawns ahead of them like something gutted it from the inside, and whatever's left behind is just husk and drywall bones. Carpet crusted with god-knows-what. A seedy old motel that already looked halfway dead before the lights cut out and made it official.
He steps just behind Logan, not on purpose (okay, maybe a little on purpose). Guy moves like he's made of stone and sleep deprivation, with that no-nonsense air of someone who's either seen hell or built a timeshare in it. Jesse doesn’t trust him, exactly, but he trusts what he isn't: Panicked. Loud. New.
And hey, if Motel Deathtrap decides to pick them off one at a time, Jesse's banking on Logan being the kind of guy who'd punch a ghost in the face before letting it touch him. But it's also kinda unnecessary to point out how not scared he is, man. Blue eyes narrow in the dark. Because yeah...people scream. Jesse's heard all kinds. Drug deals gone sideways, bad trips, worse come-downs, the kind of nights that start in laughter and end in sirens. But that sound back there? That wasn't normal. That was wrong in a way Jesse can feel in his molars. ]
What, screams like that normal where you're from?
[ He says it sharper than he means to, a little stank on it. A little snarl behind the teeth. It comes out reflexively, like a chihuahua baring its canines at a Great Dane just to prove it still has bite however small, even if nobody's impressed. It's petty bravado, yeah, but Logan's you look like you've seen a ghost landed closer to bone than Jesse would've liked. So he doubles down. Puffs up a little. Tries to sound unbothered, even though something primal is still rattling around in his ribs.
They walk a few more steps before Jesse volunteers a name. He thinks about lying. Instinct, really. He's got aliases stacked like bad habits. But nobody here knows him. Not really. Not unless he wants them to. That freedom tastes weird. Like gum chewed too long. He isn't sure how to feel about it. ]
It's Jesse. [ It hangs there in the dark, honest and unadorned, like he's testing how it sounds in a world that hasn’t decided what it thinks of him yet. Then, after a beat, he lifts his chin toward Logan, voice dipping low. Not hostile, but not exactly warm. Just...testing weight. ]
You got one? Or you just collect strays and glare 'til they stop askin'?
[ His mouth tugs into an almost-smile, a little amused in spite of everything. There's another soft groan behind them; walls shifting, settling, or something worse. Jesse doesn't look, but his pace picks up not-so-subtly. He rolls his shoulders like he's shaking something off. ]
Man, this better end with, like, working electricity and a vending machine.
[ He's not very pleased that he left that slice of pizza back in his room, even if it was cold and mediocre. ]
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He steps just behind Logan, not on purpose (okay, maybe a little on purpose). Guy moves like he's made of stone and sleep deprivation, with that no-nonsense air of someone who's either seen hell or built a timeshare in it. Jesse doesn’t trust him, exactly, but he trusts what he isn't: Panicked. Loud. New.
And hey, if Motel Deathtrap decides to pick them off one at a time, Jesse's banking on Logan being the kind of guy who'd punch a ghost in the face before letting it touch him. But it's also kinda unnecessary to point out how not scared he is, man. Blue eyes narrow in the dark. Because yeah...people scream. Jesse's heard all kinds. Drug deals gone sideways, bad trips, worse come-downs, the kind of nights that start in laughter and end in sirens. But that sound back there? That wasn't normal. That was wrong in a way Jesse can feel in his molars. ]
What, screams like that normal where you're from?
[ He says it sharper than he means to, a little stank on it. A little snarl behind the teeth. It comes out reflexively, like a chihuahua baring its canines at a Great Dane just to prove it still has bite however small, even if nobody's impressed. It's petty bravado, yeah, but Logan's you look like you've seen a ghost landed closer to bone than Jesse would've liked. So he doubles down. Puffs up a little. Tries to sound unbothered, even though something primal is still rattling around in his ribs.
They walk a few more steps before Jesse volunteers a name. He thinks about lying. Instinct, really. He's got aliases stacked like bad habits. But nobody here knows him. Not really. Not unless he wants them to. That freedom tastes weird. Like gum chewed too long. He isn't sure how to feel about it. ]
It's Jesse. [ It hangs there in the dark, honest and unadorned, like he's testing how it sounds in a world that hasn’t decided what it thinks of him yet. Then, after a beat, he lifts his chin toward Logan, voice dipping low. Not hostile, but not exactly warm. Just...testing weight. ]
You got one? Or you just collect strays and glare 'til they stop askin'?
[ His mouth tugs into an almost-smile, a little amused in spite of everything. There's another soft groan behind them; walls shifting, settling, or something worse. Jesse doesn't look, but his pace picks up not-so-subtly. He rolls his shoulders like he's shaking something off. ]
Man, this better end with, like, working electricity and a vending machine.
[ He's not very pleased that he left that slice of pizza back in his room, even if it was cold and mediocre. ]