Okay, so as a side interest, I study cults (like, actual cults) and small-scale religious groups (more like what we're characterizing here), and in order to make money, the majority of religious groups sell some sort of religious service or healing service to outsiders. This usually serves both as a recruitment method and something extremely coercive to suck money out of people who're desperate.
So, if Jason rolls up to the warehouse and slams the doors open like WHAT UP, NERDS, I'M GOING TO FUND YOUR WEIRD COMMUNITY THING, there's every reason for the cult to go ooookay...do you, um, would you like an audience with the lord god? About it?
And, being nosy, I can't imagine Jason turning down the opportunity to see this kid in person and make sure he's not being pushed around or anything. So yeah, sure. The cult disappears to put on their robes or whatever and the kid pops into the kitchen (different corner of the warehouse with a fridge in it) with like his robe half put on and half flying in the wind.
"So, uh," Danny tries, looking upwards, because this guy is tall and Danny's fourteen, "Do you have, like...personal problems?"
"So many." Jason can't really emphasize just one. "Anger's usually the worst of it. Why, got a cure-all or something in this joint?"
"Er," says Danny. "...No. Actually, this seems more like my sister's deal. Hold on. One minute."
And the kid god darts out, only to return by pushing his older sister in, giving her a thumbs up and leaving. The girl rolls her eyes and straightens upright. She asks him what's up.
...Jason tells her a very abbreviated version of what's up. Kid censored. He leaves the dying in there though, because whatever, it's a cult! They'll believe that stuff.
The girl. Frowns. "That's...that's super weird. Actually. Hold on."
Jason then proceeds to watch her take an abundance of greens out of the fridge, pull the world's jankiest homemade blender off of the floor, and make two portions of the healthiest smoothie he's ever had the misfortune of seeing in his life.
She pours two glasses. Jason drinks one, and she drinks the other. It tastes indistinguishable from grass. "Try to meditate on things that brought you joy in life tonight. You'll feel better if you have good memories."
Jason pays $3000 for bogus services rendered, goes home, and resolves himself to sleeping in his crappy safehouse bed for the night like any other.
He dreams about his mom when she was sober. They were reading doctor Seuss books together. It's a memory so old...Jason doesn't think he was even talking at that age. He wakes up in the morning totally, entirely cured.
What the fuck. Wait. Does that mean the cult is actually onto something?
Meanwhile, Jazz is glad to have gotten the most ecto-soaked veggies out of the fridge before they started manifesting consciousness again. She hopes that one dude was alright. He looked kind of hangry all the while they were talking.
