THE G.O.A.T.

[Not that Ren can talk, having been about just as quiet. However, he was quiet because he was avoiding everyone, meaning Doc was probably doing about the same. And he knows how Doc is when he's avoiding everyone - months locked away in some project somewhere far from everyone]

[He doesn't want this time to be like all those other times. So somehow he pulls himself out of his own isolation hole, and heads off to Doc's base. He can't find the other at first, so he pulls out his comm, opening their messages - ignoring the other messages that dig deeper into the pit in his gut - and messages Doc.]

You whisper to Docm77: where are you

@rendogs-mailbox

All things considered, the timing of this isn’t… great. Being a bit tipsy and all— hey, I’ve kept this thing in my sight all fucking week, you’d wanna treat yourself too if you were in my place.

Regardless, company— well, Ren’s company in particular— sounds nice.

You whisper to Renthedog: hi

[He enters the large room where the voodoo machine lives, making his way to Doc’s side. He looks him up and down, searching for any permanent damage - he knows there won’t be, respawn heals everything. But he looks just in case]

“How are you doing?”

I…

…

I’ve been better. I just…

The wine doesn’t make it easier. Such a conversation demands a level of tact that he… can’t muster up at this particular moment. Most he can do is cross his fingers and hope whatever comes out of his mouth comes across the way he needs it to.

[he doesn’t mention the missing lever that had been on Martyn’s yet. Doc doesn’t seem his normal level of put together right now, and if ren were to have that conversation, it’d be when Doc is more himself]

It all comes out slightly snappier than he’d hoped. Probably not the best of tones to give into, given the predicament.

[The snappy tone doesn’t feel great to have directed at him, but Ren knows he deserves it]

There’s at least one reason it might still be Scar, he figures, but it remains unsaid. With Ren getting there first, chances are he’s got a grasp on what the scene was like right after the perpetrator absconded.

And still…

Not sure how much I… like to imagine it could be someone else. Much less a mystery person I can’t put a face to.

Dividing his energy among two targets is not conducive to his season plan.

And like—

For all the time it spent today acting as a hindrance, the wine’s finally doing favors.

…and like, I do enjoy having someone to… rally against, is I think what the phrase is.

Well, the wine’s certainly doing something.

It’s easiest to imagine it as just one primary target, when there’s just— there’s one thing, and you can just focus all your energy onto one thing. Something goes wrong, you just channel it all into that one thing, and— 

…is it the wine?

—yeah, um, I’m kind of y’know, getting ahead of myself here, now that I think about it. But whoever did this, did this to all my fellow hermits, did this to you…

…will not be getting away with it.

[Not that Ren can talk, having been about just as quiet. However, he was quiet because he was avoiding everyone, meaning Doc was probably doing about the same. And he knows how Doc is when he's avoiding everyone - months locked away in some project somewhere far from everyone]

[He doesn't want this time to be like all those other times. So somehow he pulls himself out of his own isolation hole, and heads off to Doc's base. He can't find the other at first, so he pulls out his comm, opening their messages - ignoring the other messages that dig deeper into the pit in his gut - and messages Doc.]

You whisper to Docm77: where are you

@rendogs-mailbox

All things considered, the timing of this isn’t… great. Being a bit tipsy and all— hey, I’ve kept this thing in my sight all fucking week, you’d wanna treat yourself too if you were in my place.

Regardless, company— well, Ren’s company in particular— sounds nice.

You whisper to Renthedog: hi

[He enters the large room where the voodoo machine lives, making his way to Doc’s side. He looks him up and down, searching for any permanent damage - he knows there won’t be, respawn heals everything. But he looks just in case]

“How are you doing?”

I…

…

I’ve been better. I just…

The wine doesn’t make it easier. Such a conversation demands a level of tact that he… can’t muster up at this particular moment. Most he can do is cross his fingers and hope whatever comes out of his mouth comes across the way he needs it to.

[he doesn’t mention the missing lever that had been on Martyn’s yet. Doc doesn’t seem his normal level of put together right now, and if ren were to have that conversation, it’d be when Doc is more himself]

It all comes out slightly snappier than he’d hoped. Probably not the best of tones to give into, given the predicament.

Docm77 Stimboard

Stimboard requests are Open!

[Not that Ren can talk, having been about just as quiet. However, he was quiet because he was avoiding everyone, meaning Doc was probably doing about the same. And he knows how Doc is when he's avoiding everyone - months locked away in some project somewhere far from everyone]

[He doesn't want this time to be like all those other times. So somehow he pulls himself out of his own isolation hole, and heads off to Doc's base. He can't find the other at first, so he pulls out his comm, opening their messages - ignoring the other messages that dig deeper into the pit in his gut - and messages Doc.]

You whisper to Docm77: where are you

@rendogs-mailbox

All things considered, the timing of this isn’t… great. Being a bit tipsy and all— hey, I’ve kept this thing in my sight all fucking week, you’d wanna treat yourself too if you were in my place.

Regardless, company— well, Ren’s company in particular— sounds nice.

You whisper to Renthedog: hi

[He enters the large room where the voodoo machine lives, making his way to Doc’s side. He looks him up and down, searching for any permanent damage - he knows there won’t be, respawn heals everything. But he looks just in case]

“How are you doing?”

I…

…

I’ve been better. I just…

The wine doesn’t make it easier. Such a conversation demands a level of tact that he… can’t muster up at this particular moment. Most he can do is cross his fingers and hope whatever comes out of his mouth comes across the way he needs it to.

[Ren is exhausted and hungry and can’t even run, but somehow he’s made it here after days of wandering. His paws hurt after walking so long, and he would’ve just thrown himself into lava days ago if it hadn’t been for all the good armour he had on him]

[He doesn’t stop to raid Doc’s chests for any food despite how hungry he is, focusing on what he came here to do - turn off the machine]

[He follows the path Doc had led him through a few weeks ago, walking as fast as he can. The machine rumbles as it works, and Ren’s stomach twists knowing that people have been suffering the entire time he’s been lost]

[He walks to the levers, switching off every one that’s on. He goes through them slowly after, double checking everyone was off. A singular missing lever stops him, and he looks up at the label, wondering who Doc would’ve not put a lever on]

[Why would Doc put a lever on him and not Martyn? Why would Doc put a lever on himself and not Martyn? Something feels wrong]

[He searches the barrels in the room, finding another lever, and sets it on Martyn’s spot. He leaves it off, but just hides the fact there was ever a lever missing]

Long periods of silence are interspersed between the messages.

You whisper to renthedog: just checking in you remember where to find the base?

You whisper to renthedog: ?

You whisper to renthedog: dude where are you

You whisper to renthedog: i dont want to rush you or anything but this is kind of important 

You whisper to renthedog: hey so like should i call someone

You whisper to renthedog: everything okay??? do you need help?

[He had zoned the pinging of his comm out until a certain ringtone sang, the bleating of a sheep. He checks his messages from Zed, brow furrowing. That can't be good.]

[Skizz doesn't head there with anything except his armour, weapons, flint and steel and some obsidian to make a portal. Surely by 'stuck in the nether', Zed just meant stuck because of mobs or maybe his portal broke, who knows! It has to be one of those, its what makes sense]

[He slips through his portal, heading to spawn. Seeing two people there, he pauses to watch as they take some damage, concern growing as they seem to die with no enemies around]

"Zeddle dop?"

[Skizz gets closer, focusing on Zed first, looking at him for any sign of injuries - arrows, wither affect, anything. He glances at the other hermit, noticing the same lack of visible damage]

"Doccy boy? What's goin' on, experiment gone wrong?"

[This feels like a very intense science experiment. Death loop is something he could see Doc coming up with but why would Doc include himself in this and not already leave?]

@skizzs-mailbox

Skizz! My knight in shining armor, I require of you some, um, some help, please.

His eyes dart to Doc, whose stare could span a thousand yards were it not for the fact that he was looking straight at the floor, then back at Skizz.

He’s been at this longer than I have and, um… I really do not want what he’s having. No offense, Doc!

No reply.

See, like, look, he’s not even… acknowledging my existence anymore, he’s just, yeah. I can wave my hand in front of him and th—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[he doesn’t focus on that for too long, glancing between zed, the portal, and doc. His expression gets a bit more concerned seeing how disconnected Doc seems to be, but right now his focus was Zed]

I wasn’t the one doing the getting-into of the situation, it’s more like it just started happening. I’m just along for the ride.

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

Seven seconds or so, by the way. On average. At least, that’s what Doc said. But personally, my high score is a bit closer to twelve.

[he repeats. The way zed treats this, like a game - he doubts the constant deaths, only 7 seconds apart, feel nice, but he supposes this is just how zed is]

“Alright. Okay. I need to go get things to- I’ll figure it out. Are you going to be okay alone for a few seconds awesome alright-“

[he’s running to the nearest portal before zed can even answer]

[he comes back with a bed, food, and some potions that had found themselves in one of the trading hall chests. He hands the potion over first, hoping it’ll help zed stay alive]

And the bed looks awfully snug. Really comfy. Soft. Nice. Very warm. Generally, the thing just looks pleasant. So sue him for wanting to jump in so fast, to get under those covers and—

Zedaph was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Skizzleman was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

“Alright new plan! Zeddle dop, you should’ve known better, no beds in the nether. All your fault”

[he has another bed, but he set that one up outside the portal. He’d been a bit slow to get back, stuck without his elytra now. He quickly gathers up all his items that had dropped when he died, saving them from the fires started by the explosion]

[before discussing a new plan with zed, he rushes to put out all the fires. He doesn’t what either zed or doc set on fire on top of the constant dying. As he passes doc, he shoves one of the other potions in the man’s hands before returning to zed]

The second was not much better. Bad spawn. Bit too far from the portal.

And with the third, he was so close. So so so very close, everything went about as good as it could go, until—

Something broke.

Be it force of habit, or maybe because this wasn’t his armor to go around breaking; for whatever reason, Zed paused to inspect the status of the armor.

I broke your p—

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…ants.

Well, this is extremely inconvenient.

“I don’t know if I have splash potions. I’ll need to switch some bottles over”

[he helps zed get the chest plate on, then puts the helmet on for him]

It’s gonna work this time, I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna make it—!

And Zed dives through that portal headfirst.

…

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…

I, uh, I went the wrong direction.

[he returns the armour to zed again, then glances at the portal]

“I’m going to go turn the potions splashable.. and get your wind charges. You’ll be all good for a few minutes?”

And sure enough…

‹Zedaph› SUCCESS

‹Zedaph› Skizz you are actually the BEst ever i lov you

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[with a goofy grin on his face from the messages zed had sent, skizz turns to the other person with problems in the nether- doc. He approaches him, waiting for another respawn before he speaks]

“Do you want to head out too? I doubt it’s nice to be respawning in here.”

‘s… better than the alternative.

And he can’t look Skizz in the eyes as he says it.

He just grips his mechanical arm, trying in vain to quell its spastic movements. The twitching doesn’t stop. The jittering doesn’t stop.

Surely, at some point, its internals will overexert themselves, and the thing’ll finally stop responding to stimulus that he’s not even giving it.

[He watches Doc grip his mechanical arm, watching it twitch. That doesn’t seem like what it’s meant to do]

“Is there a way to take it off until this is over? I saw how fast this ate through my armour with Zop.”

[And armour is a lot easier to fix than an arm.]

He can’t help but dwell on how stupid it sounds when he actually verbalizes it.

—‘s there’s, there’s all the people out there, and…

The arm can come off. It requires a good bit of fiddling around and numerous conditions to be met in quick succession, but even between deaths, he manages.

…I don’t want them to see me.

And he’s aware of how pathetic those words sound strung together, leaving his lips at a whisper. Because, just the same as he was in that jungle, right now he’s being really fucking pathetic. He’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, this is so unbelievably fucking pathetic it makes me sick. All of this is my fault. And here I am, hoarding the kindnesses of the friendliest hermit while his best friend dies over and over, goddamn it, what’s with all these pleasantries he’s giving me?!

The thorns feel like claws. Claws from the rot inside him, begging to be let out. Tearing at him from the inside. Surely that’s what all this is. A reflection of his soul. Some divine punishment for being intrinsically fucking awful.

“Do you want to go to my base?”

[he’s starting to speak quicker, trying to make sure he says everything between deaths]

“I’m sure we can find a way to do it, get beds and move you slowly. But you’d be in the house I have set up, in a bed, and nobody would see you there”

[he had planned to try and get zed to at least the ZITS starting area, wanting to get him at least away from any bad weather, so if he’s already trying to move one death looped person, maybe he can manage two]

It comes out far fiercer than he intends.

No. No going, I… you got Tango, you got Impulse, you got Zed, that’s already three people, and then you got the villager setup that Joel’s been using, and everybody’s helping with Decked Out, and—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[He keeps his voice soft]

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, we could just go to the portal, set you up in a box with a bed.”

[as Doc dies, he notices the lack of items dropped. His brow furrows, thinking about the potion he gave the other earlier]

With his remaining hand, Doc mimed sliding a bottle into a pile of Zed’s (nonexistent) items.

I know this machine better than anyone on this server. You cannot “outlast” it. It runs forever and ever, slowly chipping away at your armor until there is nothing left to protect you. And then it kills you. Over and over again.

All those points of pride proved rather sharp when they etched themselves into his skin. It isn’t the GOAT way to sit back and accept a condition like this, but this is… it’s different.

“You have a point.. it’d be a lot of resources to be able to keep you semi alive”

[he digs through his pockets, searching, pulling out another potion]

…

Doc takes the bottle.

Catches a glimpse of his own reflection. 

It stares back.

…

It was beyond him as to why he sobered up so fast. Beyond him as to why his face shifted to a scowl. Beyond him as to why any of the words he said were coming out of his mouth.

I don’t think you understand what’s happening here, Skizz.

A slight growl weaves its way into his delivery. He speaks slow, as if he were communicating with some kind of wild animal.

You have friends, who haven’t done anything to hurt me, being targeted by my rogue death machine. 

He knows it’s not fair to Skizz, to patronize him like this. But Skizz isn’t being fair either, is he?

There’s innocent people out there, people who deserv— who want this kind of compassion, need it. And—

There’s nothing funny about this. He doesn’t know why he laughs.

…and, think about it for a minute. What kind of a message would that send, to the rest of the Hermitcraft server, if during a time of immense pain, immense suffering…

The bottle was sitting upright on the ground. He must have set it down at some point, he’s not really sure right now.

…you chose to help me.

The remark leaves an aftertaste.

[he says, his voice losing some of its softness. Still kind, but firm]

“I understand what’s happening. I understand that it’s your death machine killing my friends. I don’t think you understand that you are also one of my friends, and you deserve compassion just as much as any of them.”

[he picks the bottle up again, shoving it into doc’s hand and forcing him to hold it]

“I don’t care what message it sends. In my first season I got considered a villain because of the permit office, and I’m perfectly fine with that. They can see me however they want to”

[skizz squeezes doc’s hand in his and then pulls away]

It is so fucking tempting to look Skizz in the eyes, pop the cap off the bottle, and pour its contents all over the floor.

But he can’t.

The most he can do is try to guzzle it down as quick as he can, so as to deprive himself of its sweet taste. Take that, Skizz. 

He doesn’t bother saying “thank you”. He just hands the empty bottle off to Skizz in complete silence. That ought’a show him.

Lingering pains subsided. But really, the joke’s on Skizz, because without the constant barrage of old thorns damage, Doc picks up on another pain. His eyes are stinging! Hah.

…

—wait, no no no, you’ve gots to be kidding me—

[he’s glad the other is cooperating. That would’ve made things difficult if he didn’t.]

“When was the last time you had water?”

Right. Skizz isn’t going to let up.

It’s… been a while.

He’s not leaning into the hug— not yet, anyway. But, even with the guilt eating at him faster than any amount of thorns ever could, he musters up the fucking nerve resolve to ask,

…while you’re over there, could you, um…

Already, he regrets having brought it up.

[He’s quick, trying not to let too many deaths between him leaving and returning. Paper, water, potions, a few golden carrots- he even makes a few pieces of armour, simple ones that can just take some of the blow of the machine. He pauses by zed’s bed to suit him up, leaving him with two sets of armour, some carrots and potions, and a water bottle. He plans to switch between checking on him and doc]

He couldn’t put off saying it forever.

2no has, um, a machine, that I think could be useful. For if, like, this thing doesn’t get turned off before people start sleeping. Which I doubt, of course, because Ren’s on it, although I haven’t heard from him…

And I’m thinking I could get back to you once I’ve drawn it up. Maybe you could like, show Impulse or Tango it or something, or— who’s neighboring Gem and Pearl, someone over there.

[he takes out the armour, popping the helmet on doc’s head]

“I’m sure ren has got this, he’s a good guy. He wouldn’t abandon his mission. But always good to have a backup plan!”

[he grins, then pats his shulker box]

…

Soon enough, there’s a ping. It’s from Doc.

You whisper to Skizzleman: proportions are a bit fucked but hopefully someone will be able to decipher it

You whisper to Skizzleman: it should work with a full beacon. one more layer than what i drew. again its weird with the perspective but none of the iron gets broken this is all on top of or beside the beacon

Doc’s rendition of 2no’s design is displayed proudly upon Skizz’s shulker box.

[he looks over the image after his comm pings, trying to understand. Nothing really clicks, but that’s normal for him - he’s not good with this stuff. he scrolls through his redstone contacts, deciding to send it to mumbo. He won’t be busy with decked out or a hole like tango and impulse were (he managed to miss the death messages playing in chat)]

You whisper to Docm77: no clue what this does but I sent it off to be done

You whisper to Skizzleman: food supply doing fine ,i have that covered

You whisper to Skizzleman: you should probably reach out to ren, i think he might be avoiding me at the moment but he is also the person i trusted to turn this thing off yaknow

You whisper to Skizzleman: he said he would

You whisper to Skizzleman: i just realizef im heading toward venty territory with these messages, aint nobody got time for that haha

A brief pause.

You whisper to Skizzleman: just try and keep me in the loop man

You whisper to Skizzleman: and agian

You whisper to Skizzleman: *again

[He had zoned the pinging of his comm out until a certain ringtone sang, the bleating of a sheep. He checks his messages from Zed, brow furrowing. That can't be good.]

[Skizz doesn't head there with anything except his armour, weapons, flint and steel and some obsidian to make a portal. Surely by 'stuck in the nether', Zed just meant stuck because of mobs or maybe his portal broke, who knows! It has to be one of those, its what makes sense]

[He slips through his portal, heading to spawn. Seeing two people there, he pauses to watch as they take some damage, concern growing as they seem to die with no enemies around]

"Zeddle dop?"

[Skizz gets closer, focusing on Zed first, looking at him for any sign of injuries - arrows, wither affect, anything. He glances at the other hermit, noticing the same lack of visible damage]

"Doccy boy? What's goin' on, experiment gone wrong?"

[This feels like a very intense science experiment. Death loop is something he could see Doc coming up with but why would Doc include himself in this and not already leave?]

@skizzs-mailbox

Skizz! My knight in shining armor, I require of you some, um, some help, please.

His eyes dart to Doc, whose stare could span a thousand yards were it not for the fact that he was looking straight at the floor, then back at Skizz.

He’s been at this longer than I have and, um… I really do not want what he’s having. No offense, Doc!

No reply.

See, like, look, he’s not even… acknowledging my existence anymore, he’s just, yeah. I can wave my hand in front of him and th—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[he doesn’t focus on that for too long, glancing between zed, the portal, and doc. His expression gets a bit more concerned seeing how disconnected Doc seems to be, but right now his focus was Zed]

I wasn’t the one doing the getting-into of the situation, it’s more like it just started happening. I’m just along for the ride.

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

Seven seconds or so, by the way. On average. At least, that’s what Doc said. But personally, my high score is a bit closer to twelve.

[he repeats. The way zed treats this, like a game - he doubts the constant deaths, only 7 seconds apart, feel nice, but he supposes this is just how zed is]

“Alright. Okay. I need to go get things to- I’ll figure it out. Are you going to be okay alone for a few seconds awesome alright-“

[he’s running to the nearest portal before zed can even answer]

[he comes back with a bed, food, and some potions that had found themselves in one of the trading hall chests. He hands the potion over first, hoping it’ll help zed stay alive]

And the bed looks awfully snug. Really comfy. Soft. Nice. Very warm. Generally, the thing just looks pleasant. So sue him for wanting to jump in so fast, to get under those covers and—

Zedaph was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Skizzleman was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

“Alright new plan! Zeddle dop, you should’ve known better, no beds in the nether. All your fault”

[he has another bed, but he set that one up outside the portal. He’d been a bit slow to get back, stuck without his elytra now. He quickly gathers up all his items that had dropped when he died, saving them from the fires started by the explosion]

[before discussing a new plan with zed, he rushes to put out all the fires. He doesn’t what either zed or doc set on fire on top of the constant dying. As he passes doc, he shoves one of the other potions in the man’s hands before returning to zed]

The second was not much better. Bad spawn. Bit too far from the portal.

And with the third, he was so close. So so so very close, everything went about as good as it could go, until—

Something broke.

Be it force of habit, or maybe because this wasn’t his armor to go around breaking; for whatever reason, Zed paused to inspect the status of the armor.

I broke your p—

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…ants.

Well, this is extremely inconvenient.

“I don’t know if I have splash potions. I’ll need to switch some bottles over”

[he helps zed get the chest plate on, then puts the helmet on for him]

It’s gonna work this time, I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna make it—!

And Zed dives through that portal headfirst.

…

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…

I, uh, I went the wrong direction.

[he returns the armour to zed again, then glances at the portal]

“I’m going to go turn the potions splashable.. and get your wind charges. You’ll be all good for a few minutes?”

And sure enough…

‹Zedaph› SUCCESS

‹Zedaph› Skizz you are actually the BEst ever i lov you

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[with a goofy grin on his face from the messages zed had sent, skizz turns to the other person with problems in the nether- doc. He approaches him, waiting for another respawn before he speaks]

“Do you want to head out too? I doubt it’s nice to be respawning in here.”

‘s… better than the alternative.

And he can’t look Skizz in the eyes as he says it.

He just grips his mechanical arm, trying in vain to quell its spastic movements. The twitching doesn’t stop. The jittering doesn’t stop.

Surely, at some point, its internals will overexert themselves, and the thing’ll finally stop responding to stimulus that he’s not even giving it.

[He watches Doc grip his mechanical arm, watching it twitch. That doesn’t seem like what it’s meant to do]

“Is there a way to take it off until this is over? I saw how fast this ate through my armour with Zop.”

[And armour is a lot easier to fix than an arm.]

He can’t help but dwell on how stupid it sounds when he actually verbalizes it.

—‘s there’s, there’s all the people out there, and…

The arm can come off. It requires a good bit of fiddling around and numerous conditions to be met in quick succession, but even between deaths, he manages.

…I don’t want them to see me.

And he’s aware of how pathetic those words sound strung together, leaving his lips at a whisper. Because, just the same as he was in that jungle, right now he’s being really fucking pathetic. He’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, this is so unbelievably fucking pathetic it makes me sick. All of this is my fault. And here I am, hoarding the kindnesses of the friendliest hermit while his best friend dies over and over, goddamn it, what’s with all these pleasantries he’s giving me?!

The thorns feel like claws. Claws from the rot inside him, begging to be let out. Tearing at him from the inside. Surely that’s what all this is. A reflection of his soul. Some divine punishment for being intrinsically fucking awful.

“Do you want to go to my base?”

[he’s starting to speak quicker, trying to make sure he says everything between deaths]

“I’m sure we can find a way to do it, get beds and move you slowly. But you’d be in the house I have set up, in a bed, and nobody would see you there”

[he had planned to try and get zed to at least the ZITS starting area, wanting to get him at least away from any bad weather, so if he’s already trying to move one death looped person, maybe he can manage two]

It comes out far fiercer than he intends.

No. No going, I… you got Tango, you got Impulse, you got Zed, that’s already three people, and then you got the villager setup that Joel’s been using, and everybody’s helping with Decked Out, and—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[He keeps his voice soft]

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, we could just go to the portal, set you up in a box with a bed.”

[as Doc dies, he notices the lack of items dropped. His brow furrows, thinking about the potion he gave the other earlier]

With his remaining hand, Doc mimed sliding a bottle into a pile of Zed’s (nonexistent) items.

I know this machine better than anyone on this server. You cannot “outlast” it. It runs forever and ever, slowly chipping away at your armor until there is nothing left to protect you. And then it kills you. Over and over again.

All those points of pride proved rather sharp when they etched themselves into his skin. It isn’t the GOAT way to sit back and accept a condition like this, but this is… it’s different.

“You have a point.. it’d be a lot of resources to be able to keep you semi alive”

[he digs through his pockets, searching, pulling out another potion]

…

Doc takes the bottle.

Catches a glimpse of his own reflection. 

It stares back.

…

It was beyond him as to why he sobered up so fast. Beyond him as to why his face shifted to a scowl. Beyond him as to why any of the words he said were coming out of his mouth.

I don’t think you understand what’s happening here, Skizz.

A slight growl weaves its way into his delivery. He speaks slow, as if he were communicating with some kind of wild animal.

You have friends, who haven’t done anything to hurt me, being targeted by my rogue death machine. 

He knows it’s not fair to Skizz, to patronize him like this. But Skizz isn’t being fair either, is he?

There’s innocent people out there, people who deserv— who want this kind of compassion, need it. And—

There’s nothing funny about this. He doesn’t know why he laughs.

…and, think about it for a minute. What kind of a message would that send, to the rest of the Hermitcraft server, if during a time of immense pain, immense suffering…

The bottle was sitting upright on the ground. He must have set it down at some point, he’s not really sure right now.

…you chose to help me.

The remark leaves an aftertaste.

[he says, his voice losing some of its softness. Still kind, but firm]

“I understand what’s happening. I understand that it’s your death machine killing my friends. I don’t think you understand that you are also one of my friends, and you deserve compassion just as much as any of them.”

[he picks the bottle up again, shoving it into doc’s hand and forcing him to hold it]

“I don’t care what message it sends. In my first season I got considered a villain because of the permit office, and I’m perfectly fine with that. They can see me however they want to”

[skizz squeezes doc’s hand in his and then pulls away]

It is so fucking tempting to look Skizz in the eyes, pop the cap off the bottle, and pour its contents all over the floor.

But he can’t.

The most he can do is try to guzzle it down as quick as he can, so as to deprive himself of its sweet taste. Take that, Skizz. 

He doesn’t bother saying “thank you”. He just hands the empty bottle off to Skizz in complete silence. That ought’a show him.

Lingering pains subsided. But really, the joke’s on Skizz, because without the constant barrage of old thorns damage, Doc picks up on another pain. His eyes are stinging! Hah.

…

—wait, no no no, you’ve gots to be kidding me—

[he’s glad the other is cooperating. That would’ve made things difficult if he didn’t.]

“When was the last time you had water?”

Right. Skizz isn’t going to let up.

It’s… been a while.

He’s not leaning into the hug— not yet, anyway. But, even with the guilt eating at him faster than any amount of thorns ever could, he musters up the fucking nerve resolve to ask,

…while you’re over there, could you, um…

Already, he regrets having brought it up.

[He’s quick, trying not to let too many deaths between him leaving and returning. Paper, water, potions, a few golden carrots- he even makes a few pieces of armour, simple ones that can just take some of the blow of the machine. He pauses by zed’s bed to suit him up, leaving him with two sets of armour, some carrots and potions, and a water bottle. He plans to switch between checking on him and doc]

He couldn’t put off saying it forever.

2no has, um, a machine, that I think could be useful. For if, like, this thing doesn’t get turned off before people start sleeping. Which I doubt, of course, because Ren’s on it, although I haven’t heard from him…

And I’m thinking I could get back to you once I’ve drawn it up. Maybe you could like, show Impulse or Tango it or something, or— who’s neighboring Gem and Pearl, someone over there.

[he takes out the armour, popping the helmet on doc’s head]

“I’m sure ren has got this, he’s a good guy. He wouldn’t abandon his mission. But always good to have a backup plan!”

[he grins, then pats his shulker box]

…

Soon enough, there’s a ping. It’s from Doc.

You whisper to Skizzleman: proportions are a bit fucked but hopefully someone will be able to decipher it

You whisper to Skizzleman: it should work with a full beacon. one more layer than what i drew. again its weird with the perspective but none of the iron gets broken this is all on top of or beside the beacon

Doc’s rendition of 2no’s design is displayed proudly upon Skizz’s shulker box.

[He had zoned the pinging of his comm out until a certain ringtone sang, the bleating of a sheep. He checks his messages from Zed, brow furrowing. That can't be good.]

[Skizz doesn't head there with anything except his armour, weapons, flint and steel and some obsidian to make a portal. Surely by 'stuck in the nether', Zed just meant stuck because of mobs or maybe his portal broke, who knows! It has to be one of those, its what makes sense]

[He slips through his portal, heading to spawn. Seeing two people there, he pauses to watch as they take some damage, concern growing as they seem to die with no enemies around]

"Zeddle dop?"

[Skizz gets closer, focusing on Zed first, looking at him for any sign of injuries - arrows, wither affect, anything. He glances at the other hermit, noticing the same lack of visible damage]

"Doccy boy? What's goin' on, experiment gone wrong?"

[This feels like a very intense science experiment. Death loop is something he could see Doc coming up with but why would Doc include himself in this and not already leave?]

@skizzs-mailbox

Skizz! My knight in shining armor, I require of you some, um, some help, please.

His eyes dart to Doc, whose stare could span a thousand yards were it not for the fact that he was looking straight at the floor, then back at Skizz.

He’s been at this longer than I have and, um… I really do not want what he’s having. No offense, Doc!

No reply.

See, like, look, he’s not even… acknowledging my existence anymore, he’s just, yeah. I can wave my hand in front of him and th—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[he doesn’t focus on that for too long, glancing between zed, the portal, and doc. His expression gets a bit more concerned seeing how disconnected Doc seems to be, but right now his focus was Zed]

I wasn’t the one doing the getting-into of the situation, it’s more like it just started happening. I’m just along for the ride.

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

Seven seconds or so, by the way. On average. At least, that’s what Doc said. But personally, my high score is a bit closer to twelve.

[he repeats. The way zed treats this, like a game - he doubts the constant deaths, only 7 seconds apart, feel nice, but he supposes this is just how zed is]

“Alright. Okay. I need to go get things to- I’ll figure it out. Are you going to be okay alone for a few seconds awesome alright-“

[he’s running to the nearest portal before zed can even answer]

[he comes back with a bed, food, and some potions that had found themselves in one of the trading hall chests. He hands the potion over first, hoping it’ll help zed stay alive]

And the bed looks awfully snug. Really comfy. Soft. Nice. Very warm. Generally, the thing just looks pleasant. So sue him for wanting to jump in so fast, to get under those covers and—

Zedaph was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Skizzleman was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

“Alright new plan! Zeddle dop, you should’ve known better, no beds in the nether. All your fault”

[he has another bed, but he set that one up outside the portal. He’d been a bit slow to get back, stuck without his elytra now. He quickly gathers up all his items that had dropped when he died, saving them from the fires started by the explosion]

[before discussing a new plan with zed, he rushes to put out all the fires. He doesn’t what either zed or doc set on fire on top of the constant dying. As he passes doc, he shoves one of the other potions in the man’s hands before returning to zed]

The second was not much better. Bad spawn. Bit too far from the portal.

And with the third, he was so close. So so so very close, everything went about as good as it could go, until—

Something broke.

Be it force of habit, or maybe because this wasn’t his armor to go around breaking; for whatever reason, Zed paused to inspect the status of the armor.

I broke your p—

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…ants.

Well, this is extremely inconvenient.

“I don’t know if I have splash potions. I’ll need to switch some bottles over”

[he helps zed get the chest plate on, then puts the helmet on for him]

It’s gonna work this time, I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna make it—!

And Zed dives through that portal headfirst.

…

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…

I, uh, I went the wrong direction.

[he returns the armour to zed again, then glances at the portal]

“I’m going to go turn the potions splashable.. and get your wind charges. You’ll be all good for a few minutes?”

And sure enough…

‹Zedaph› SUCCESS

‹Zedaph› Skizz you are actually the BEst ever i lov you

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[with a goofy grin on his face from the messages zed had sent, skizz turns to the other person with problems in the nether- doc. He approaches him, waiting for another respawn before he speaks]

“Do you want to head out too? I doubt it’s nice to be respawning in here.”

‘s… better than the alternative.

And he can’t look Skizz in the eyes as he says it.

He just grips his mechanical arm, trying in vain to quell its spastic movements. The twitching doesn’t stop. The jittering doesn’t stop.

Surely, at some point, its internals will overexert themselves, and the thing’ll finally stop responding to stimulus that he’s not even giving it.

[He watches Doc grip his mechanical arm, watching it twitch. That doesn’t seem like what it’s meant to do]

“Is there a way to take it off until this is over? I saw how fast this ate through my armour with Zop.”

[And armour is a lot easier to fix than an arm.]

He can’t help but dwell on how stupid it sounds when he actually verbalizes it.

—‘s there’s, there’s all the people out there, and…

The arm can come off. It requires a good bit of fiddling around and numerous conditions to be met in quick succession, but even between deaths, he manages.

…I don’t want them to see me.

And he’s aware of how pathetic those words sound strung together, leaving his lips at a whisper. Because, just the same as he was in that jungle, right now he’s being really fucking pathetic. He’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, this is so unbelievably fucking pathetic it makes me sick. All of this is my fault. And here I am, hoarding the kindnesses of the friendliest hermit while his best friend dies over and over, goddamn it, what’s with all these pleasantries he’s giving me?!

The thorns feel like claws. Claws from the rot inside him, begging to be let out. Tearing at him from the inside. Surely that’s what all this is. A reflection of his soul. Some divine punishment for being intrinsically fucking awful.

“Do you want to go to my base?”

[he’s starting to speak quicker, trying to make sure he says everything between deaths]

“I’m sure we can find a way to do it, get beds and move you slowly. But you’d be in the house I have set up, in a bed, and nobody would see you there”

[he had planned to try and get zed to at least the ZITS starting area, wanting to get him at least away from any bad weather, so if he’s already trying to move one death looped person, maybe he can manage two]

It comes out far fiercer than he intends.

No. No going, I… you got Tango, you got Impulse, you got Zed, that’s already three people, and then you got the villager setup that Joel’s been using, and everybody’s helping with Decked Out, and—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[He keeps his voice soft]

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, we could just go to the portal, set you up in a box with a bed.”

[as Doc dies, he notices the lack of items dropped. His brow furrows, thinking about the potion he gave the other earlier]

With his remaining hand, Doc mimed sliding a bottle into a pile of Zed’s (nonexistent) items.

I know this machine better than anyone on this server. You cannot “outlast” it. It runs forever and ever, slowly chipping away at your armor until there is nothing left to protect you. And then it kills you. Over and over again.

All those points of pride proved rather sharp when they etched themselves into his skin. It isn’t the GOAT way to sit back and accept a condition like this, but this is… it’s different.

“You have a point.. it’d be a lot of resources to be able to keep you semi alive”

[he digs through his pockets, searching, pulling out another potion]

…

Doc takes the bottle.

Catches a glimpse of his own reflection. 

It stares back.

…

It was beyond him as to why he sobered up so fast. Beyond him as to why his face shifted to a scowl. Beyond him as to why any of the words he said were coming out of his mouth.

I don’t think you understand what’s happening here, Skizz.

A slight growl weaves its way into his delivery. He speaks slow, as if he were communicating with some kind of wild animal.

You have friends, who haven’t done anything to hurt me, being targeted by my rogue death machine. 

He knows it’s not fair to Skizz, to patronize him like this. But Skizz isn’t being fair either, is he?

There’s innocent people out there, people who deserv— who want this kind of compassion, need it. And—

There’s nothing funny about this. He doesn’t know why he laughs.

…and, think about it for a minute. What kind of a message would that send, to the rest of the Hermitcraft server, if during a time of immense pain, immense suffering…

The bottle was sitting upright on the ground. He must have set it down at some point, he’s not really sure right now.

…you chose to help me.

The remark leaves an aftertaste.

[he says, his voice losing some of its softness. Still kind, but firm]

“I understand what’s happening. I understand that it’s your death machine killing my friends. I don’t think you understand that you are also one of my friends, and you deserve compassion just as much as any of them.”

[he picks the bottle up again, shoving it into doc’s hand and forcing him to hold it]

“I don’t care what message it sends. In my first season I got considered a villain because of the permit office, and I’m perfectly fine with that. They can see me however they want to”

[skizz squeezes doc’s hand in his and then pulls away]

It is so fucking tempting to look Skizz in the eyes, pop the cap off the bottle, and pour its contents all over the floor.

But he can’t.

The most he can do is try to guzzle it down as quick as he can, so as to deprive himself of its sweet taste. Take that, Skizz. 

He doesn’t bother saying “thank you”. He just hands the empty bottle off to Skizz in complete silence. That ought’a show him.

Lingering pains subsided. But really, the joke’s on Skizz, because without the constant barrage of old thorns damage, Doc picks up on another pain. His eyes are stinging! Hah.

…

—wait, no no no, you’ve gots to be kidding me—

[he’s glad the other is cooperating. That would’ve made things difficult if he didn’t.]

“When was the last time you had water?”

Right. Skizz isn’t going to let up.

It’s… been a while.

He’s not leaning into the hug— not yet, anyway. But, even with the guilt eating at him faster than any amount of thorns ever could, he musters up the fucking nerve resolve to ask,

…while you’re over there, could you, um…

Already, he regrets having brought it up.

[He’s quick, trying not to let too many deaths between him leaving and returning. Paper, water, potions, a few golden carrots- he even makes a few pieces of armour, simple ones that can just take some of the blow of the machine. He pauses by zed’s bed to suit him up, leaving him with two sets of armour, some carrots and potions, and a water bottle. He plans to switch between checking on him and doc]

He couldn’t put off saying it forever.

2no has, um, a machine, that I think could be useful. For if, like, this thing doesn’t get turned off before people start sleeping. Which I doubt, of course, because Ren’s on it, although I haven’t heard from him…

And I’m thinking I could get back to you once I’ve drawn it up. Maybe you could like, show Impulse or Tango it or something, or— who’s neighboring Gem and Pearl, someone over there.

[He had zoned the pinging of his comm out until a certain ringtone sang, the bleating of a sheep. He checks his messages from Zed, brow furrowing. That can't be good.]

[Skizz doesn't head there with anything except his armour, weapons, flint and steel and some obsidian to make a portal. Surely by 'stuck in the nether', Zed just meant stuck because of mobs or maybe his portal broke, who knows! It has to be one of those, its what makes sense]

[He slips through his portal, heading to spawn. Seeing two people there, he pauses to watch as they take some damage, concern growing as they seem to die with no enemies around]

"Zeddle dop?"

[Skizz gets closer, focusing on Zed first, looking at him for any sign of injuries - arrows, wither affect, anything. He glances at the other hermit, noticing the same lack of visible damage]

"Doccy boy? What's goin' on, experiment gone wrong?"

[This feels like a very intense science experiment. Death loop is something he could see Doc coming up with but why would Doc include himself in this and not already leave?]

@skizzs-mailbox

Skizz! My knight in shining armor, I require of you some, um, some help, please.

His eyes dart to Doc, whose stare could span a thousand yards were it not for the fact that he was looking straight at the floor, then back at Skizz.

He’s been at this longer than I have and, um… I really do not want what he’s having. No offense, Doc!

No reply.

See, like, look, he’s not even… acknowledging my existence anymore, he’s just, yeah. I can wave my hand in front of him and th—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[he doesn’t focus on that for too long, glancing between zed, the portal, and doc. His expression gets a bit more concerned seeing how disconnected Doc seems to be, but right now his focus was Zed]

I wasn’t the one doing the getting-into of the situation, it’s more like it just started happening. I’m just along for the ride.

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

Seven seconds or so, by the way. On average. At least, that’s what Doc said. But personally, my high score is a bit closer to twelve.

[he repeats. The way zed treats this, like a game - he doubts the constant deaths, only 7 seconds apart, feel nice, but he supposes this is just how zed is]

“Alright. Okay. I need to go get things to- I’ll figure it out. Are you going to be okay alone for a few seconds awesome alright-“

[he’s running to the nearest portal before zed can even answer]

[he comes back with a bed, food, and some potions that had found themselves in one of the trading hall chests. He hands the potion over first, hoping it’ll help zed stay alive]

And the bed looks awfully snug. Really comfy. Soft. Nice. Very warm. Generally, the thing just looks pleasant. So sue him for wanting to jump in so fast, to get under those covers and—

Zedaph was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Skizzleman was killed by [Intentional Game Design]

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

“Alright new plan! Zeddle dop, you should’ve known better, no beds in the nether. All your fault”

[he has another bed, but he set that one up outside the portal. He’d been a bit slow to get back, stuck without his elytra now. He quickly gathers up all his items that had dropped when he died, saving them from the fires started by the explosion]

[before discussing a new plan with zed, he rushes to put out all the fires. He doesn’t what either zed or doc set on fire on top of the constant dying. As he passes doc, he shoves one of the other potions in the man’s hands before returning to zed]

The second was not much better. Bad spawn. Bit too far from the portal.

And with the third, he was so close. So so so very close, everything went about as good as it could go, until—

Something broke.

Be it force of habit, or maybe because this wasn’t his armor to go around breaking; for whatever reason, Zed paused to inspect the status of the armor.

I broke your p—

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…ants.

Well, this is extremely inconvenient.

“I don’t know if I have splash potions. I’ll need to switch some bottles over”

[he helps zed get the chest plate on, then puts the helmet on for him]

It’s gonna work this time, I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna make it—!

And Zed dives through that portal headfirst.

…

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

…

I, uh, I went the wrong direction.

[he returns the armour to zed again, then glances at the portal]

“I’m going to go turn the potions splashable.. and get your wind charges. You’ll be all good for a few minutes?”

And sure enough…

‹Zedaph› SUCCESS

‹Zedaph› Skizz you are actually the BEst ever i lov you

Zedaph was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[with a goofy grin on his face from the messages zed had sent, skizz turns to the other person with problems in the nether- doc. He approaches him, waiting for another respawn before he speaks]

“Do you want to head out too? I doubt it’s nice to be respawning in here.”

‘s… better than the alternative.

And he can’t look Skizz in the eyes as he says it.

He just grips his mechanical arm, trying in vain to quell its spastic movements. The twitching doesn’t stop. The jittering doesn’t stop.

Surely, at some point, its internals will overexert themselves, and the thing’ll finally stop responding to stimulus that he’s not even giving it.

[He watches Doc grip his mechanical arm, watching it twitch. That doesn’t seem like what it’s meant to do]

“Is there a way to take it off until this is over? I saw how fast this ate through my armour with Zop.”

[And armour is a lot easier to fix than an arm.]

He can’t help but dwell on how stupid it sounds when he actually verbalizes it.

—‘s there’s, there’s all the people out there, and…

The arm can come off. It requires a good bit of fiddling around and numerous conditions to be met in quick succession, but even between deaths, he manages.

…I don’t want them to see me.

And he’s aware of how pathetic those words sound strung together, leaving his lips at a whisper. Because, just the same as he was in that jungle, right now he’s being really fucking pathetic. He’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, he’s pathetic, this is so unbelievably fucking pathetic it makes me sick. All of this is my fault. And here I am, hoarding the kindnesses of the friendliest hermit while his best friend dies over and over, goddamn it, what’s with all these pleasantries he’s giving me?!

The thorns feel like claws. Claws from the rot inside him, begging to be let out. Tearing at him from the inside. Surely that’s what all this is. A reflection of his soul. Some divine punishment for being intrinsically fucking awful.

“Do you want to go to my base?”

[he’s starting to speak quicker, trying to make sure he says everything between deaths]

“I’m sure we can find a way to do it, get beds and move you slowly. But you’d be in the house I have set up, in a bed, and nobody would see you there”

[he had planned to try and get zed to at least the ZITS starting area, wanting to get him at least away from any bad weather, so if he’s already trying to move one death looped person, maybe he can manage two]

It comes out far fiercer than he intends.

No. No going, I… you got Tango, you got Impulse, you got Zed, that’s already three people, and then you got the villager setup that Joel’s been using, and everybody’s helping with Decked Out, and—

Docm77 was killed while trying to hurt Wrath of the GOAT!

[He keeps his voice soft]

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, we could just go to the portal, set you up in a box with a bed.”

[as Doc dies, he notices the lack of items dropped. His brow furrows, thinking about the potion he gave the other earlier]

With his remaining hand, Doc mimed sliding a bottle into a pile of Zed’s (nonexistent) items.

I know this machine better than anyone on this server. You cannot “outlast” it. It runs forever and ever, slowly chipping away at your armor until there is nothing left to protect you. And then it kills you. Over and over again.

All those points of pride proved rather sharp when they etched themselves into his skin. It isn’t the GOAT way to sit back and accept a condition like this, but this is… it’s different.

“You have a point.. it’d be a lot of resources to be able to keep you semi alive”

[he digs through his pockets, searching, pulling out another potion]

…

Doc takes the bottle.

Catches a glimpse of his own reflection. 

It stares back.

…

It was beyond him as to why he sobered up so fast. Beyond him as to why his face shifted to a scowl. Beyond him as to why any of the words he said were coming out of his mouth.

I don’t think you understand what’s happening here, Skizz.

A slight growl weaves its way into his delivery. He speaks slow, as if he were communicating with some kind of wild animal.

You have friends, who haven’t done anything to hurt me, being targeted by my rogue death machine. 

He knows it’s not fair to Skizz, to patronize him like this. But Skizz isn’t being fair either, is he?

There’s innocent people out there, people who deserv— who want this kind of compassion, need it. And—

There’s nothing funny about this. He doesn’t know why he laughs.

…and, think about it for a minute. What kind of a message would that send, to the rest of the Hermitcraft server, if during a time of immense pain, immense suffering…

The bottle was sitting upright on the ground. He must have set it down at some point, he’s not really sure right now.

…you chose to help me.

The remark leaves an aftertaste.

[he says, his voice losing some of its softness. Still kind, but firm]

“I understand what’s happening. I understand that it’s your death machine killing my friends. I don’t think you understand that you are also one of my friends, and you deserve compassion just as much as any of them.”

[he picks the bottle up again, shoving it into doc’s hand and forcing him to hold it]

“I don’t care what message it sends. In my first season I got considered a villain because of the permit office, and I’m perfectly fine with that. They can see me however they want to”

[skizz squeezes doc’s hand in his and then pulls away]

It is so fucking tempting to look Skizz in the eyes, pop the cap off the bottle, and pour its contents all over the floor.

But he can’t.

The most he can do is try to guzzle it down as quick as he can, so as to deprive himself of its sweet taste. Take that, Skizz. 

He doesn’t bother saying “thank you”. He just hands the empty bottle off to Skizz in complete silence. That ought’a show him.

Lingering pains subsided. But really, the joke’s on Skizz, because without the constant barrage of old thorns damage, Doc picks up on another pain. His eyes are stinging! Hah.

…

—wait, no no no, you’ve gots to be kidding me—

[he’s glad the other is cooperating. That would’ve made things difficult if he didn’t.]

“When was the last time you had water?”

Right. Skizz isn’t going to let up.

It’s… been a while.

He’s not leaning into the hug— not yet, anyway. But, even with the guilt eating at him faster than any amount of thorns ever could, he musters up the fucking nerve resolve to ask,

…while you’re over there, could you, um…

Already, he regrets having brought it up.