i'll be on time

When Ginny first stumbled upon the Beckett Farmhouse, bloodied and unrecognizable, Ermano quickly took her in. Like any mother, she'd speak about her son, in hopes of finding him. The more time that passed, the less hope Ermano had of it happening.

"Should've come soon," he repeated, inching to the edge of his seat. "Gin, the chances of him being alive out there are slim to none. Sure, maybe a group took him in. And if they did, what makes you think they'd be near?" He hated this. He hated being that person for Gin, to plant devastating seeds, but he grew fond of her - and so did many others. "You have family here now. People who care about you, people who love you."

"I've told you," she says impatiently. "They'd be near because Henry knew where we were headed. He wouldn't have just let someone cart him off, or – or even if he did, he would've insisted they come back, eventually. You don't know him. He's quiet but he's... strong-headed." She's had too much time, maybe, to generate fantasies, sure paths that her son must've traveled. Insisting, searching, and hopefully, finding. It's just taking a while, that's all. So Ginny's going to meet him halfway. Maybe. Hopefully.

It wasn’t a question that needed answering, or even posing. She wasn’t even trying to deflect or stall, really. Ginny just watched her with such careful attention and she was feeling greedy for it. So she kept talking.

“I’m thinking that we should think of reasons other than folks leaving to have celebrations like this. People need this kinda thing…even the stingy-ass kings and queens of old would shell out for carnivals and stuff ‘cause they knew that people need to have fun sometimes. Need it. Like they need food.”

Ginny was still watching, a sad kind of smile starting to creep across her eyes. That’s how it happened with Ginny. The smile—or frown—started in her eyes before it ever got to her mouth.

“I’m loathe to call this fun, though. I’m not upset anymore,” she hurried to clarify. To fib, a little. “I’m just gonna miss you like crazy. You know that, right?” She reached over and idly let her thumb stroke the back of Ginny’s hand, feeling the faint tendons and veins that stood in relief.

She finally looks away as the necessity of celebrations is mentioned, her nod slow as she takes in the sight of the crowd around the fire, the long slat of light spilling from the community center as the door opens and closes. "Like they need food," she echoes, looking back to Jemma with the predicted bittersweet smile. "Aw, c'mon. You're not enjoying this definitely-not-morose shindig?"

That was an attempt at continued joking, but it's not a train that Jemma boards along with her, and that's just fine. It's fair. It's welcome, even, especially when Jemma takes to tracing the ridges of Ginny's hand. "I do," she murmurs. "I'll miss you, too. Is there anything you want? Other than for me not to go." A flicker of a smile before she clarifies, "Out there, I mean. Is there anything I should keep my eyes peeled for on your behalf? Potato chips, I know already. But anything else?"

Her scattershot questions come to a close as she turns toward Jemma fully, having begun to slowly rotate in that direction as if tugged by a gravitational pull. Maybe that's what this is. That they were always meant to be in each other's orbit.

That seems to be what Jemma's saying, and Ginny closes her eyes, soaking in the warmth of it. It's a nice sentiment. A pretty one, if overly optimistic, but Ginny won't begrudge her that. Not when she's been called the exact same thing tonight.

There's a split in the road here, multiple paths she could take in replying. That of the pessimist, reminding Jemma that even if their lives hadn't been torn asunder by a virus, Ginny'd had a wife and a kid. That if they had encountered each other, it probably would've been too late for that one in a million chance. Or there's the high road of the optimist, citing fate, saying they were meant to be. Or saying what she's supposed to say, what she knows very well she hadn't reciprocated in Jemma's room. Just say it, you coward.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Gin, I don't like it." Ermano turned his gaze to the woman, hands rubbing together. "I don't like the idea of you going but I have a feeling I know what this is about."

And then she sighs as he delivers what she'd expected. "There it is," she murmurs then turns to look at him fully. "Oh? What's it about, then? Maybe the one thing that I've been consistent about from the very start?" She searches his expression then shakes her head. "C'mon, Erm. You knew from day one that this was coming. It probably should've come sooner, but..." Ginny lets that dwindle, looking back toward the fire. No time to self-recriminate. She's only got now.

the paper had a few samples of calligraphy, some basic font choices. “have you had one done before?” harlow asked, unwilling to deal with someone who was going to give up just as the needle touched her skin. “that’s a pretty easy area. it won’t be too bad.” they stated, matter of factly, before crushing their cigarette against the desk they’d been sitting on. “what do you have to trade?”

Sehwan hadn't really felt like attending some sort of community gathering. He wasn't exactly Mr. Social and these sorts of things always made him painfully aware of how much they all had to lose if things went wrong or if Redwood fell. He tended to stick as close as possible to survival mode, refusing to lower his defenses any. And a party like this? Well, to him it felt like everyone was letting themselves be lulled into a false sense of security. But that was the pessimistic in him.

However, when he'd heard through the grapevine that part of the reason for this shindig was to send off Sol... and Ginny, Sehwan knew he needed to come. He couldn't let Ginny leave for god knows how long without saying anything. Sure, things with his cousin had been uncomfortable, to say the least. But he still had a duty to care about her well-being. And that would never go away.

Scanning the community center upon entering it, his gaze stopped when it finally landed on the curly head of hair he was looking for. With his hands buried in his pockets, he approached Ginny, feeling the uncomfortableness of their situation make him even more awkward. "So, you're heading out tomorrow, huh?" Very articulate, Sehwan. Very articulate.

A reunion under these circumstances had the potential to fix everything. After all, what did politics matter anymore? But it hadn't. She's said things to Sehwan that she arguably shouldn't have. Maybe not would be the time to apologize. She doesn't. At least not now.

Instead, she turns from where she's perusing the tattoos to look at her cousin, nodding slowly as she crosses her arms across her chest. He's never had a way with words. Though right now, it feels like she doesn't, either. "I am. Bright and early," Ginny says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Lacking for anything else to say – or anything else she wants to say, she instead offers, "Is there anything you'd specifically like for me to look for out there?"

they needed supplies. water, booze, clothes, ammo. medicine was the holy grail they were after, but that wasn’t something anyone was just going to give up. so for now, they’d take… anything. desperate times and all that. 

which led them to here and now, sitting on a desk with crossed legs waiting to see if anyone had caught the fliers they’d been laying around town advertising tattoos for trade during the going away party.

“are you gonna pick one or just keep staring at my shit?” harlow questioned, blowing smoke of a cigarette they knew they shouldn’t have in the building. a dozen hand drawn pictures had been tapped to the wall, each of varying quality but none promising particularly high standards. “needles are clean. if you get an infection its on you.” harlow informed, assured that while the pictures may not be pretty they weren’t stupid enough to ignore sanitation. 

So maybe she's milking it! Before she can be called on that, Ginny's in motion, sitting and extending her left arm toward Harlow so that the inner part of her wrist is toward the sky. "I want just the letter 'H'. Right here." She taps on the paler flesh there, pointing out her intended spot. "Nothing crazy." She's feeling a little crazy, but that's another issue entirely.

The gathering was a hit and well-needed. Everyone managed to behave themselves, which was Ermano’s biggest worry. No one wanted to experience or break up a fight when things were supposed to be uplifted .. even if they were technically saying ‘See you maybe never’ to two longtime friends. Ermano understood the mission and why it needed to be done. Sol was precisely the man to do it; his track record was spotless. Virginia, however, was a different story. When she had jumped at the opportunity to leave the community, Ermano couldn’t help but eye her carefully, looking for something to confirm his suspicions. Nothing gave it away then, but seeing her sitting by the fire alone, was the perfect opportunity to question her. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ll miss you,” he told her, planting himself a few feet away.

Ermano's timing is good. Before she can tumble too far into a rabbit hole of her own digging, staring into the fire and letting her mind wander to worst case scenarios. It's not too late to stay, the cowardly part of her mind is reminding her. And yet it feels, in some ways, like it's too late to go. Like she should've years ago. So she'll go now, because that's got to be better than nothing.

"It seems pretty intense to change up your entire dietary preferences for the sake of a girl you never even told about your crush," he says, trying to figure out where this is going. "You got a crush now, or something?"

But then it gets back to Ember, which he should've seen coming. Ike snorts with a half-grin when Ginny dryly remarks that they're friends, in case he doesn't remember, and he rolls a shoulder back in response. Feelings. Ugh. "I'm managing," he says, still prickly, because, because ...

He's searching for the meaning, which is fair. She hasn't exactly laid it at his feet, and doesn't now, instead making a little humming sound at his question. The answer is yes, of course, but that's wandering into Ijemma territory and that's not somewhere she wants to go. Not with him. Because one of these days she's sure someone will point at her and say that Jemma deserves better, someone who'll actually commit, for God's sake, and she suspects there's no one more likely than Ike to deliver that verdict on behalf of his best friend.

Instead they go headfirst into more rocky territory, tumbling so fast that she's left stepping back, still holding her knife like she's going to have to ward some biter off. Ike's words are biting enough. Ginny looks bewildered, head shaking as she demands, "Whoa. Can we run this back? Can you play the part of the tape where I ever, ever wished this upon you? I mean, really. You think that little of me? Jesus. If everyone was like me, looking for their kid in every dark corner, we'd never get a thing done around here. I wasn't asking to compare you to me. I was asking because I wondered how you felt. My mistake, though I guess you answered that question well enough."

Ermano sighed softly, battling whether he should ignore her first question. “There were a couple of close calls when I was on tour. Honestly, I thought I was going to die in combat, so I never really had a five-year plan.” He shifted his weight, pushing with his elbow to sit up again; this time, his elbows rested against his thighs. 

That's their world now. No five year plans, no long looks to the future, though she's attempting a short one at the moment. One that Ermano essentially shuts down. Maybe not the most realistic, but she'll reap the benefits someday, she hopes. So she won't begrudge him the optimism he'd just said he wasn't privy to. "The Becketts made the right choice, then," she says simply, a compliment instead of a question, then leaves them to sit in the easy silence.

Winter's months away, but of course Ermano's already planning. He's the type, thinking six steps ahead. "Did people ever ask you about your five year plan, during the normal times?" Ginny asks, something of a non-sequitur, but she doesn't bother to explain her train of thought. "I always had some, like, prepped and ready statement. Even in high school. Guess I was meant to work in PR."

Ginny was doing a pretty good imitation of one of those guys.

And that was more than fine. Sol had kinda always preferred those fights, anyway. He liked playing brick wall.

So he waited until she was out of anger and into bargaining. Asking him questions like the answer might make it all feel productive. The one she landed on almost had him scoffing though.

"Don't think our location is really a big secret. I mean, we don't have billboards advertising or anything, but we're not exactly hiding. And it ain't like I give folks coordinates. But hey," he lowered his voice and almost reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. Halfway there, he aborted the contact into a pointing gesture.

Sol's making it easier to breathe, too. Ginny takes in what he says, the sincerity of his expression, the seriousness of each syllable. And finally, all of the hell she'd just given him is bookended by gratitude. He's never treated her like she was crazy. Not once. Not even when she was starting to fear it about herself. He's put his skin on the line to try and restore her life for her, asking nothing in return.

"Thank you," Ginny finally says after a long moment of just looking. Processing. The words don't feel like enough. What possibly could? She hesitates for a moment before closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Sol for a brief hug. It's even more awkward than she'd anticipated, but at the moment, it's all she has to offer other than words. And she needs to give something else. "Thank you," she says again against his shoulder before pulling back before they can both start squirming. "It means... more to me than I can say. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that..." She flaps a hand for a second before landing on a word. "Flaying. It's not your fault that he's not..."

Ginny filled in some blank spaces about herself; the past had a way of paling since the outbreak. No one could ever travel to Busan now, or watch a show about it, or Wikipedia it. The grim statement 'who cares' flickered in Renzie's mind. Histories were useless. And so were... "Uh, last name...yeah. I'm - I lost it," he confessed; and despite being told over and over that it was best to forget the past, Renzie felt terrible for losing his family name. "I got a new name, out there. I forgot...a lot about myself. Sitting here, I've trying to remember what it was."

He was glum, until Ginny mentioned Ocean City. A smile twitched. "I liked Ocean City - the Jersey one, anyway. You mean family like...you were married?" He shook his head, raising a hand at her question about the Cape. "No...no, I don't want to talk about what went down in Cape May. I'm sure it happened like anywhere else, and it was a long time ago. It happened, it was bad, no surprise there. How'd you survive after Maryland, Ginny? How'd you make it here?"

Ginny made Redwood sound like a paradise that Renzie still wasn't sure he trusted, but. What was the alternative? "Out there I was with people. They...weren't good people," Renzie admitted, putting the empty bowl down on the floor, by the cell bars. He drank his allotted water from the canteen. "Scavengers, very territorial. But they kept me alive, so....anyway. They're all dead now. Zombie swarm killed them and I...ran." Renzie shook his head. "It didn't feel cowardly at the time."

You were married? That makes it sound so simple, a summary, an overview. "I was," Ginny says rather than refuting. "I also have a son." Out there. Somewhere. Not beside her like he should be. Henry would've been shy toward newcomers, she's sure of it. Would he have been too shy to approach a group out there?

She blinks back into focus when Renzie rejects her question. With images of Kat and Henry spinning in her head, she just gives a tight smile and answers rigidly, "The same way you did, I imagine." If he's not going to give, she won't, either. It's fine. It'll spare them both some suffering, probably.

And when Ginny cracked up and asked back if it really is nice to meet her, Ember tilted her head to take the woman, gave her a look. "Honestly? I'd say at least 50% of it is the food, yeah. And the fact that I am safer than I've been in years. And I'm trying to be polite." Trying the key word - her brash, to the point way might not make it seem like at all times. "But when do you really, truly, 100% mean meeting somebody being nice after about five minutes of conversation, maybe even less? I am meaning it as much as I possibly can."

Was it jarring? It wouldn't have necessarily been the word she used. "I think mostly I am just glad I can be safe so far. Kind of feels surreal, for the most part. Overwhelming, to a point - but honestly? I am just tired and it feels nice to let myself be tired." She hasn't really allowed herself to just empty her brain for a good while. She couldn't sleep, Ember has been struggling falling asleep for about a year now, but even this felt amazing. "Ask me about everything else after I spent some time out of this cell, I think I can describe it better then." She wasn't trying to be arrogant, insinuating that she'd get accepted and let inside no matter what, she was trying to convince her that this was going to happen - because if they turned her away, she'd be crushed, no better word about it.

And there they were - the questions. Ember has been expecting them and felt better having them laid out in front of her. She didn't mind getting to know Ginny, mind you - but she'd prefer no bars between them, and until them, the faster she could get through the questions, hopefully the faster she could get out of here. "I was traveling alone. I don't know exacltly how long I've been alone, but it's been a hot seconds already. Before that I was traveling with one single person." She pointed over to Renzie, who was sleeping over in the other cell. "Him. Renzie. We met up a couple of months back and then got seperated after a while. I didn't realize we were so close to each other until I saw him in the cells. He is one of the good guys, though, if you're wondering."

Ginny can read between the lines just fine, and what she's getting from Ember is leave me alone. She won't begrudge her that; the outside world truly is exhausting, especially compared to Redwood. So maybe the girl just wants some rest. She can respect that. "I'll follow up then," she promises and means it. It's part of her job, after all. But so is seeing to the food and wellness of those in the cells, so leaving Ember alone is arguably part of the job, too.

A bit more of a give and take is what she's always hoping for in these conversations. But this wouldn't be the first time she's been let down. No mentions of a little boy, of a traveling band of survivors. Just her and... remarkably, the man sleeping beside them. Normally she'd press more, but something's stopping her. Maybe the terrible coincidence of it all.

"Hm. Renzie. Alright." Ginny makes note of the name so that she can greet him with it later then pushes herself off of the wall to stand properly. "Well, you're not alone anymore. But I'll leave you to some time by yourself to enjoy the rest of your meal. If you need anything else while you're in there, don't be afraid to ask." And then she turns to leave before Ike's kid can accept or reject that offer.

Transcript of the meeting where Sol filled in council on 1) campground community he made contact with, 2) group of savages he took out, and 3) increased rumors and talk about mutant zombies. Council approved Sol traveling again, this time heading west, with Ginny accompanying.

@ermanodelgcdo

@isaacapatow

@salemcampbell

@ginnypark

@tristan---miller