Simon

Simon was well aware of Parker approaching him. His senses seemed to always be turned on to the max, keeping track of each person walking by or conversation that was just within earshot. If he hadn’t heard Parker he would have leapt out of his skin.

Simon did tense though, eying the man up and down. Woah, okay, there was a lot of man sitting right there. That man could definitely chuck him across the room like a football if he so pleased.

“I’m..good?” He sounded more confused to be questioned.

Simon was just staring at his food for who knows how long so he supposed the didn’t look the most normal. His stomach was wanting him dead but wasting food was like a cardinal sin. He didn’t understand how people threw it away so easily.

His frail frame, eyebags, and clothes sewn together about fifty times didn’t help his case either. This sweater still had the blood stains from when his arm hand been burnt off. Despite that, he was cleaner than he’d been in a while but still, he was in need of a bath.

His expression didn’t waiver, but it softened a bit, like he’d decided Simon wasn’t gunna bite his hand off if he got too close or pressed something a bit to much.

“What is it? Don’t think I’ve seen em serve soup before. Or I just never found myself ordering it.”

He shrugged slightly, trying to let the man know he could lower his guard. Sure he looked like he could break Simon in half with his bare hands, and he certainly had the confidence that came along with it. But, he acted gentle.

“You don’t… have t’ eat it. nothing gets wasted here I don’t think. They got a compost bin you can scrape the extra bits into if you don’t feel like finishing.”

His accent was fairly noticeable, though it wasn’t too dissimilar to the other accents he’d heard from other guests on occasion.

“Got plenty use for it too. You don’t gotta stress over those things.”

He shot the man another warm look.

“Uh— chicken noodle soup. My stomach isn’t exactly the strongest,” his eyes scanned for the three exits he already had planned out. “She goes easy on the chicken normally, gives me some saltines to go with it.”

He slide the crackers across the table as an offering, “And no, I can’t toss it. It just feels weird. It’s wasted labor still and just feels disgusting. I’d rather puke it up later.”

The story with that was much longer than he cared to share with a stranger.

He wasn’t lying. An admission for an admission. He’d met plenty of people that operated that way. Usually the jumpy types, which… fit the bill with Simon.

“The point is t’ get some of the food to stay in. Puking it up makes it so it doesn’t feed anybody. Eat what y’ can, leave the rest. It ain’t wasted, just saved for later.”

He paused a moment, thinking of his next words more carefully. He hadn’t managed to be a P.I for years without knowing how to get people talking to him.

“… I ain’t asking for y’ crackers, those’re yours. Plus if that’s what helps keep the food down that’d just make me feel shitty for taking em from you.”

It was a weird feeling to see a man looking half starved offering his food just because another guy started talking to him about his food. It was like there was a pit forming in his stomach.

His shoulders tensed at his last remark and maybe, he should find a way out of this conversation. His hand came to rest on his harness where his knife was carried, nails that were brittle and chewed down rubbing along it.

“Why do you ask?”

He backed off, putting his hands up a bit, trying to tell Simon he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gunna be the first one to throw punches.

“That ain’t something people who had it easy tend t’ do. I know how that is. Before I ended up here my job was helping people who the system had a habit of ignoring. Maybe wasn’t the best choice but hey, it felt good to help out.”

Parker passed the saltines back, giving it an extra bit of push just to keep his distance from Simon.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m no threat to you and I have no reason t’ be. I just want to get to know you, peacefully.”

He knew the look of someone reaching for a knife. The way their eyes went a bit fearful or god forbid wild. He never was as good at talking people down as Arthur was… the man had a knack for people.

His hand immediately went back to the carrier, thumb rubbing over the texture repeatedly. Simon didn’t look like he wanted to use it, no, he looked like he was pleading for Parker to not make him have to do anything.

“I appreciate it but I don’t know how you could do that,” he shrugged.

He also didn’t know if he could trust it.

He sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, fiddling with one but hesitating to light it. Just… looking at it.

“Half o’ the people here are gods or the like and I don’t know how t’ help them. they’re in a different ballpark entirely from me at least and I just… wanted to talk to another human again that I didn’t already know when I was alive.”

He stopped, looking at Simon like he just said something outrageous. Or like he just insulted the man’s life’s’ work.

“‘Gods’ is a funny thing you call them. They’re nothing close to that. Besides, you can’t help a demon. They’ll always fuck you over in the end.”

he went to take a bite of his soup with a wrinkled nose in disgust. Swallowing it looked like a struggle.

… it wasn’t inaccurate, the fact that they fuck people over whether intentional or not. He ended up here cuz of one after all.

“Though I suppose you’re right about the fucking people over part. Haven’t met one that ain’t got me killed or brought me t’ some weird place like here.”

He sighed, pulling out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. He pulled another one out of the box, offering it to Simon.

“Want one? Feels weird to be the only one with a smoke sometimes. No pressure though if y’ don’t want it.”

He sighed. Simon wasn’t gunna be easy to get to open up or trust him, but… hell, he we itching for a new person to know that wasn’t some flavor of inhuman.

“Thank you,” he held it awkwardly in between his fingers, a crude mimicry of what he saw from Noel and Parker, while waiting for a light.

“And yeah, call them what you’d like but be careful disrespecting God’s name like that. He’s the one true God here,” he chuckled softly like it was silly mistake.

“But there’s not much you can help me with, bud. I’m willing to get to know you but other than my body being physically fucked, I don’t got much. I’m as desperate for a human around here as you are.”

“Heh. The Horrors got a way o’ making the religious lose their faith and the nonbelievers religious. Not always, but it’s got a habit of making people rethink where they sit in reality.”

He chuckled warmly, that lopsided smile returning as he looks at Simon again.

“I’m already dead. Don’t think any point in respecting a god I ain’t ever been in the good graces of. But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. Half of em are closer to malicious entities than gods.”

He paused, taking a bite more carefully with his next chosen words.

“And even if you’re dead, can’t you double die? I’ve heard of bits and pieces of that. I’ve certainly never been in the good graces of God, I wasn’t taken during the quiet rapture and denied his name for most of my life. I can only hope it’s not too late when I finally die.”

He shrugged a bit, waiting to the cigarette to catch before capping the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket again.

“When I died I didn’t even know this place existed at all, let alone why I ended up here instead of the Dark World I keep hearin’ ‘bout.”

His eyes drifted to the missing arm, expression unreadable as he looked the man over more properly.

He had more to say but when the smoke hit his lungs, he broke out in a flurry of coughing. He held up a finger to ask for one second so he can talk once more.

“God, okay— anyways, sorry, but I’m just gonna assume the ‘Dark World’ is hell. Either way, you don’t know me. You can’t speak on what I am,” his tone stiffened, gaze hardening.

He gave Simon his time to adjust.

“From what I’ve heard… yeah, the Dark World sounds like it.”

He paused a bit longer.

If they got to know each other better, then he may explain it. Either that or when he’s drunk.

“Well uh… not too sure. It was looking for another one… seemed pretty worked up about it too, and was asking if I knew where the other guy was. I kept my mouth shut and it killed me.”

He shrugged, not even seeming particularly bothered about it. Just a fact of what happened.

“You ever think of trying to leave? There’s a way for me to get back to Eden through a door so there’s probably another way for you to escape to.”

He paused a bit, taking a minute to fully grasp what Simon was saying. He didn’t think it was Eden as in the place in the Bible, but probably named after it.

“Yeah, my home is named Eden. We had the last alive tree in all of the universe after the quiet rapture took all the habitable moons and planets.”

He phrased it like a casual fact of life.

“Now, is that because you’re dead that you don’t?”

He was very much there. Well- he felt like he was there. The fabric of his coat and the warmth of the body under it was evidence enough of that.

“Probably somethin’ t’ do with how the waylay works that I can exist like this while still bein’ dead.”

“What the hell? Your head was exploded?” His eyes widened. “I mean, you don’t gotta tell me but what the fuck.”

He paused as soon as he looked at Simon’s expression.

“Simon, if you don’t wanna talk to me you don’t gotta. I ain’t gunna give chase.”

He stands up from his chair, stepping away. He knew when he wasn’t wanted and had a feeling Simon wanted Parker to make himself scarce. He’d gotten that kinda look from enough people to know when it was being directed at him.

For a minute, he looked like a deer in headlights before he could stutter something out, “N- no, you’re- you’re good, sit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

He tried to laugh it off, running his hand through his hair, “It’s a force of habit. I’m not exactly the uh- most sociable sometimes

He shot a tiny smile. Simon savored how his name sounded on his tongue. It wasn’t convict or the butcher, but undeniably his.

“Im so sorry.” He sounded a tad like a kicked puppy.

Simon was well aware of Parker approaching him. His senses seemed to always be turned on to the max, keeping track of each person walking by or conversation that was just within earshot. If he hadn’t heard Parker he would have leapt out of his skin.

Simon did tense though, eying the man up and down. Woah, okay, there was a lot of man sitting right there. That man could definitely chuck him across the room like a football if he so pleased.

“I’m..good?” He sounded more confused to be questioned.

Simon was just staring at his food for who knows how long so he supposed the didn’t look the most normal. His stomach was wanting him dead but wasting food was like a cardinal sin. He didn’t understand how people threw it away so easily.

His frail frame, eyebags, and clothes sewn together about fifty times didn’t help his case either. This sweater still had the blood stains from when his arm hand been burnt off. Despite that, he was cleaner than he’d been in a while but still, he was in need of a bath.

His expression didn’t waiver, but it softened a bit, like he’d decided Simon wasn’t gunna bite his hand off if he got too close or pressed something a bit to much.

“What is it? Don’t think I’ve seen em serve soup before. Or I just never found myself ordering it.”

He shrugged slightly, trying to let the man know he could lower his guard. Sure he looked like he could break Simon in half with his bare hands, and he certainly had the confidence that came along with it. But, he acted gentle.

“You don’t… have t’ eat it. nothing gets wasted here I don’t think. They got a compost bin you can scrape the extra bits into if you don’t feel like finishing.”

His accent was fairly noticeable, though it wasn’t too dissimilar to the other accents he’d heard from other guests on occasion.

“Got plenty use for it too. You don’t gotta stress over those things.”

He shot the man another warm look.

“Uh— chicken noodle soup. My stomach isn’t exactly the strongest,” his eyes scanned for the three exits he already had planned out. “She goes easy on the chicken normally, gives me some saltines to go with it.”

He slide the crackers across the table as an offering, “And no, I can’t toss it. It just feels weird. It’s wasted labor still and just feels disgusting. I’d rather puke it up later.”

The story with that was much longer than he cared to share with a stranger.

He wasn’t lying. An admission for an admission. He’d met plenty of people that operated that way. Usually the jumpy types, which… fit the bill with Simon.

“The point is t’ get some of the food to stay in. Puking it up makes it so it doesn’t feed anybody. Eat what y’ can, leave the rest. It ain’t wasted, just saved for later.”

He paused a moment, thinking of his next words more carefully. He hadn’t managed to be a P.I for years without knowing how to get people talking to him.

“… I ain’t asking for y’ crackers, those’re yours. Plus if that’s what helps keep the food down that’d just make me feel shitty for taking em from you.”

It was a weird feeling to see a man looking half starved offering his food just because another guy started talking to him about his food. It was like there was a pit forming in his stomach.

His shoulders tensed at his last remark and maybe, he should find a way out of this conversation. His hand came to rest on his harness where his knife was carried, nails that were brittle and chewed down rubbing along it.

“Why do you ask?”

He backed off, putting his hands up a bit, trying to tell Simon he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gunna be the first one to throw punches.

“That ain’t something people who had it easy tend t’ do. I know how that is. Before I ended up here my job was helping people who the system had a habit of ignoring. Maybe wasn’t the best choice but hey, it felt good to help out.”

Parker passed the saltines back, giving it an extra bit of push just to keep his distance from Simon.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m no threat to you and I have no reason t’ be. I just want to get to know you, peacefully.”

He knew the look of someone reaching for a knife. The way their eyes went a bit fearful or god forbid wild. He never was as good at talking people down as Arthur was… the man had a knack for people.

His hand immediately went back to the carrier, thumb rubbing over the texture repeatedly. Simon didn’t look like he wanted to use it, no, he looked like he was pleading for Parker to not make him have to do anything.

“I appreciate it but I don’t know how you could do that,” he shrugged.

He also didn’t know if he could trust it.

He sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, fiddling with one but hesitating to light it. Just… looking at it.

“Half o’ the people here are gods or the like and I don’t know how t’ help them. they’re in a different ballpark entirely from me at least and I just… wanted to talk to another human again that I didn’t already know when I was alive.”

He stopped, looking at Simon like he just said something outrageous. Or like he just insulted the man’s life’s’ work.

“‘Gods’ is a funny thing you call them. They’re nothing close to that. Besides, you can’t help a demon. They’ll always fuck you over in the end.”

he went to take a bite of his soup with a wrinkled nose in disgust. Swallowing it looked like a struggle.

… it wasn’t inaccurate, the fact that they fuck people over whether intentional or not. He ended up here cuz of one after all.

“Though I suppose you’re right about the fucking people over part. Haven’t met one that ain’t got me killed or brought me t’ some weird place like here.”

He sighed, pulling out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. He pulled another one out of the box, offering it to Simon.

“Want one? Feels weird to be the only one with a smoke sometimes. No pressure though if y’ don’t want it.”

He sighed. Simon wasn’t gunna be easy to get to open up or trust him, but… hell, he we itching for a new person to know that wasn’t some flavor of inhuman.

“Thank you,” he held it awkwardly in between his fingers, a crude mimicry of what he saw from Noel and Parker, while waiting for a light.

“And yeah, call them what you’d like but be careful disrespecting God’s name like that. He’s the one true God here,” he chuckled softly like it was silly mistake.

“But there’s not much you can help me with, bud. I’m willing to get to know you but other than my body being physically fucked, I don’t got much. I’m as desperate for a human around here as you are.”

“Heh. The Horrors got a way o’ making the religious lose their faith and the nonbelievers religious. Not always, but it’s got a habit of making people rethink where they sit in reality.”

He chuckled warmly, that lopsided smile returning as he looks at Simon again.

“I’m already dead. Don’t think any point in respecting a god I ain’t ever been in the good graces of. But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. Half of em are closer to malicious entities than gods.”

He paused, taking a bite more carefully with his next chosen words.

“And even if you’re dead, can’t you double die? I’ve heard of bits and pieces of that. I’ve certainly never been in the good graces of God, I wasn’t taken during the quiet rapture and denied his name for most of my life. I can only hope it’s not too late when I finally die.”

He shrugged a bit, waiting to the cigarette to catch before capping the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket again.

“When I died I didn’t even know this place existed at all, let alone why I ended up here instead of the Dark World I keep hearin’ ‘bout.”

His eyes drifted to the missing arm, expression unreadable as he looked the man over more properly.

He had more to say but when the smoke hit his lungs, he broke out in a flurry of coughing. He held up a finger to ask for one second so he can talk once more.

“God, okay— anyways, sorry, but I’m just gonna assume the ‘Dark World’ is hell. Either way, you don’t know me. You can’t speak on what I am,” his tone stiffened, gaze hardening.

He gave Simon his time to adjust.

“From what I’ve heard… yeah, the Dark World sounds like it.”

He paused a bit longer.

If they got to know each other better, then he may explain it. Either that or when he’s drunk.

“Well uh… not too sure. It was looking for another one… seemed pretty worked up about it too, and was asking if I knew where the other guy was. I kept my mouth shut and it killed me.”

He shrugged, not even seeming particularly bothered about it. Just a fact of what happened.

“You ever think of trying to leave? There’s a way for me to get back to Eden through a door so there’s probably another way for you to escape to.”

He paused a bit, taking a minute to fully grasp what Simon was saying. He didn’t think it was Eden as in the place in the Bible, but probably named after it.

“Yeah, my home is named Eden. We had the last alive tree in all of the universe after the quiet rapture took all the habitable moons and planets.”

He phrased it like a casual fact of life.

“Now, is that because you’re dead that you don’t?”

He was very much there. Well- he felt like he was there. The fabric of his coat and the warmth of the body under it was evidence enough of that.

“Probably somethin’ t’ do with how the waylay works that I can exist like this while still bein’ dead.”

“What the hell? Your head was exploded?” His eyes widened. “I mean, you don’t gotta tell me but what the fuck.”

Simon was well aware of Parker approaching him. His senses seemed to always be turned on to the max, keeping track of each person walking by or conversation that was just within earshot. If he hadn’t heard Parker he would have leapt out of his skin.

Simon did tense though, eying the man up and down. Woah, okay, there was a lot of man sitting right there. That man could definitely chuck him across the room like a football if he so pleased.

“I’m..good?” He sounded more confused to be questioned.

Simon was just staring at his food for who knows how long so he supposed the didn’t look the most normal. His stomach was wanting him dead but wasting food was like a cardinal sin. He didn’t understand how people threw it away so easily.

His frail frame, eyebags, and clothes sewn together about fifty times didn’t help his case either. This sweater still had the blood stains from when his arm hand been burnt off. Despite that, he was cleaner than he’d been in a while but still, he was in need of a bath.

His expression didn’t waiver, but it softened a bit, like he’d decided Simon wasn’t gunna bite his hand off if he got too close or pressed something a bit to much.

“What is it? Don’t think I’ve seen em serve soup before. Or I just never found myself ordering it.”

He shrugged slightly, trying to let the man know he could lower his guard. Sure he looked like he could break Simon in half with his bare hands, and he certainly had the confidence that came along with it. But, he acted gentle.

“You don’t… have t’ eat it. nothing gets wasted here I don’t think. They got a compost bin you can scrape the extra bits into if you don’t feel like finishing.”

His accent was fairly noticeable, though it wasn’t too dissimilar to the other accents he’d heard from other guests on occasion.

“Got plenty use for it too. You don’t gotta stress over those things.”

He shot the man another warm look.

“Uh— chicken noodle soup. My stomach isn’t exactly the strongest,” his eyes scanned for the three exits he already had planned out. “She goes easy on the chicken normally, gives me some saltines to go with it.”

He slide the crackers across the table as an offering, “And no, I can’t toss it. It just feels weird. It’s wasted labor still and just feels disgusting. I’d rather puke it up later.”

The story with that was much longer than he cared to share with a stranger.

He wasn’t lying. An admission for an admission. He’d met plenty of people that operated that way. Usually the jumpy types, which… fit the bill with Simon.

“The point is t’ get some of the food to stay in. Puking it up makes it so it doesn’t feed anybody. Eat what y’ can, leave the rest. It ain’t wasted, just saved for later.”

He paused a moment, thinking of his next words more carefully. He hadn’t managed to be a P.I for years without knowing how to get people talking to him.

“… I ain’t asking for y’ crackers, those’re yours. Plus if that’s what helps keep the food down that’d just make me feel shitty for taking em from you.”

It was a weird feeling to see a man looking half starved offering his food just because another guy started talking to him about his food. It was like there was a pit forming in his stomach.

His shoulders tensed at his last remark and maybe, he should find a way out of this conversation. His hand came to rest on his harness where his knife was carried, nails that were brittle and chewed down rubbing along it.

“Why do you ask?”

He backed off, putting his hands up a bit, trying to tell Simon he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gunna be the first one to throw punches.

“That ain’t something people who had it easy tend t’ do. I know how that is. Before I ended up here my job was helping people who the system had a habit of ignoring. Maybe wasn’t the best choice but hey, it felt good to help out.”

Parker passed the saltines back, giving it an extra bit of push just to keep his distance from Simon.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m no threat to you and I have no reason t’ be. I just want to get to know you, peacefully.”

He knew the look of someone reaching for a knife. The way their eyes went a bit fearful or god forbid wild. He never was as good at talking people down as Arthur was… the man had a knack for people.

His hand immediately went back to the carrier, thumb rubbing over the texture repeatedly. Simon didn’t look like he wanted to use it, no, he looked like he was pleading for Parker to not make him have to do anything.

“I appreciate it but I don’t know how you could do that,” he shrugged.

He also didn’t know if he could trust it.

He sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, fiddling with one but hesitating to light it. Just… looking at it.

“Half o’ the people here are gods or the like and I don’t know how t’ help them. they’re in a different ballpark entirely from me at least and I just… wanted to talk to another human again that I didn’t already know when I was alive.”

He stopped, looking at Simon like he just said something outrageous. Or like he just insulted the man’s life’s’ work.

“‘Gods’ is a funny thing you call them. They’re nothing close to that. Besides, you can’t help a demon. They’ll always fuck you over in the end.”

he went to take a bite of his soup with a wrinkled nose in disgust. Swallowing it looked like a struggle.

… it wasn’t inaccurate, the fact that they fuck people over whether intentional or not. He ended up here cuz of one after all.

“Though I suppose you’re right about the fucking people over part. Haven’t met one that ain’t got me killed or brought me t’ some weird place like here.”

He sighed, pulling out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. He pulled another one out of the box, offering it to Simon.

“Want one? Feels weird to be the only one with a smoke sometimes. No pressure though if y’ don’t want it.”

He sighed. Simon wasn’t gunna be easy to get to open up or trust him, but… hell, he we itching for a new person to know that wasn’t some flavor of inhuman.

“Thank you,” he held it awkwardly in between his fingers, a crude mimicry of what he saw from Noel and Parker, while waiting for a light.

“And yeah, call them what you’d like but be careful disrespecting God’s name like that. He’s the one true God here,” he chuckled softly like it was silly mistake.

“But there’s not much you can help me with, bud. I’m willing to get to know you but other than my body being physically fucked, I don’t got much. I’m as desperate for a human around here as you are.”

“Heh. The Horrors got a way o’ making the religious lose their faith and the nonbelievers religious. Not always, but it’s got a habit of making people rethink where they sit in reality.”

He chuckled warmly, that lopsided smile returning as he looks at Simon again.

“I’m already dead. Don’t think any point in respecting a god I ain’t ever been in the good graces of. But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. Half of em are closer to malicious entities than gods.”

He paused, taking a bite more carefully with his next chosen words.

“And even if you’re dead, can’t you double die? I’ve heard of bits and pieces of that. I’ve certainly never been in the good graces of God, I wasn’t taken during the quiet rapture and denied his name for most of my life. I can only hope it’s not too late when I finally die.”

He shrugged a bit, waiting to the cigarette to catch before capping the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket again.

“When I died I didn’t even know this place existed at all, let alone why I ended up here instead of the Dark World I keep hearin’ ‘bout.”

His eyes drifted to the missing arm, expression unreadable as he looked the man over more properly.

He had more to say but when the smoke hit his lungs, he broke out in a flurry of coughing. He held up a finger to ask for one second so he can talk once more.

“God, okay— anyways, sorry, but I’m just gonna assume the ‘Dark World’ is hell. Either way, you don’t know me. You can’t speak on what I am,” his tone stiffened, gaze hardening.

He gave Simon his time to adjust.

“From what I’ve heard… yeah, the Dark World sounds like it.”

He paused a bit longer.

If they got to know each other better, then he may explain it. Either that or when he’s drunk.

“Well uh… not too sure. It was looking for another one… seemed pretty worked up about it too, and was asking if I knew where the other guy was. I kept my mouth shut and it killed me.”

He shrugged, not even seeming particularly bothered about it. Just a fact of what happened.

“You ever think of trying to leave? There’s a way for me to get back to Eden through a door so there’s probably another way for you to escape to.”

He paused a bit, taking a minute to fully grasp what Simon was saying. He didn’t think it was Eden as in the place in the Bible, but probably named after it.

“Yeah, my home is named Eden. We had the last alive tree in all of the universe after the quiet rapture took all the habitable moons and planets.”

He phrased it like a casual fact of life.

“Now, is that because you’re dead that you don’t?”

Simon was well aware of Parker approaching him. His senses seemed to always be turned on to the max, keeping track of each person walking by or conversation that was just within earshot. If he hadn’t heard Parker he would have leapt out of his skin.

Simon did tense though, eying the man up and down. Woah, okay, there was a lot of man sitting right there. That man could definitely chuck him across the room like a football if he so pleased.

“I’m..good?” He sounded more confused to be questioned.

Simon was just staring at his food for who knows how long so he supposed the didn’t look the most normal. His stomach was wanting him dead but wasting food was like a cardinal sin. He didn’t understand how people threw it away so easily.

His frail frame, eyebags, and clothes sewn together about fifty times didn’t help his case either. This sweater still had the blood stains from when his arm hand been burnt off. Despite that, he was cleaner than he’d been in a while but still, he was in need of a bath.

His expression didn’t waiver, but it softened a bit, like he’d decided Simon wasn’t gunna bite his hand off if he got too close or pressed something a bit to much.

“What is it? Don’t think I’ve seen em serve soup before. Or I just never found myself ordering it.”

He shrugged slightly, trying to let the man know he could lower his guard. Sure he looked like he could break Simon in half with his bare hands, and he certainly had the confidence that came along with it. But, he acted gentle.

“You don’t… have t’ eat it. nothing gets wasted here I don’t think. They got a compost bin you can scrape the extra bits into if you don’t feel like finishing.”

His accent was fairly noticeable, though it wasn’t too dissimilar to the other accents he’d heard from other guests on occasion.

“Got plenty use for it too. You don’t gotta stress over those things.”

He shot the man another warm look.

“Uh— chicken noodle soup. My stomach isn’t exactly the strongest,” his eyes scanned for the three exits he already had planned out. “She goes easy on the chicken normally, gives me some saltines to go with it.”

He slide the crackers across the table as an offering, “And no, I can’t toss it. It just feels weird. It’s wasted labor still and just feels disgusting. I’d rather puke it up later.”

The story with that was much longer than he cared to share with a stranger.

He wasn’t lying. An admission for an admission. He’d met plenty of people that operated that way. Usually the jumpy types, which… fit the bill with Simon.

“The point is t’ get some of the food to stay in. Puking it up makes it so it doesn’t feed anybody. Eat what y’ can, leave the rest. It ain’t wasted, just saved for later.”

He paused a moment, thinking of his next words more carefully. He hadn’t managed to be a P.I for years without knowing how to get people talking to him.

“… I ain’t asking for y’ crackers, those’re yours. Plus if that’s what helps keep the food down that’d just make me feel shitty for taking em from you.”

It was a weird feeling to see a man looking half starved offering his food just because another guy started talking to him about his food. It was like there was a pit forming in his stomach.

His shoulders tensed at his last remark and maybe, he should find a way out of this conversation. His hand came to rest on his harness where his knife was carried, nails that were brittle and chewed down rubbing along it.

“Why do you ask?”

He backed off, putting his hands up a bit, trying to tell Simon he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gunna be the first one to throw punches.

“That ain’t something people who had it easy tend t’ do. I know how that is. Before I ended up here my job was helping people who the system had a habit of ignoring. Maybe wasn’t the best choice but hey, it felt good to help out.”

Parker passed the saltines back, giving it an extra bit of push just to keep his distance from Simon.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m no threat to you and I have no reason t’ be. I just want to get to know you, peacefully.”

He knew the look of someone reaching for a knife. The way their eyes went a bit fearful or god forbid wild. He never was as good at talking people down as Arthur was… the man had a knack for people.

His hand immediately went back to the carrier, thumb rubbing over the texture repeatedly. Simon didn’t look like he wanted to use it, no, he looked like he was pleading for Parker to not make him have to do anything.

“I appreciate it but I don’t know how you could do that,” he shrugged.

He also didn’t know if he could trust it.

He sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, fiddling with one but hesitating to light it. Just… looking at it.

“Half o’ the people here are gods or the like and I don’t know how t’ help them. they’re in a different ballpark entirely from me at least and I just… wanted to talk to another human again that I didn’t already know when I was alive.”

He stopped, looking at Simon like he just said something outrageous. Or like he just insulted the man’s life’s’ work.

“‘Gods’ is a funny thing you call them. They’re nothing close to that. Besides, you can’t help a demon. They’ll always fuck you over in the end.”

he went to take a bite of his soup with a wrinkled nose in disgust. Swallowing it looked like a struggle.

… it wasn’t inaccurate, the fact that they fuck people over whether intentional or not. He ended up here cuz of one after all.

“Though I suppose you’re right about the fucking people over part. Haven’t met one that ain’t got me killed or brought me t’ some weird place like here.”

He sighed, pulling out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. He pulled another one out of the box, offering it to Simon.

“Want one? Feels weird to be the only one with a smoke sometimes. No pressure though if y’ don’t want it.”

He sighed. Simon wasn’t gunna be easy to get to open up or trust him, but… hell, he we itching for a new person to know that wasn’t some flavor of inhuman.

“Thank you,” he held it awkwardly in between his fingers, a crude mimicry of what he saw from Noel and Parker, while waiting for a light.

“And yeah, call them what you’d like but be careful disrespecting God’s name like that. He’s the one true God here,” he chuckled softly like it was silly mistake.

“But there’s not much you can help me with, bud. I’m willing to get to know you but other than my body being physically fucked, I don’t got much. I’m as desperate for a human around here as you are.”

“Heh. The Horrors got a way o’ making the religious lose their faith and the nonbelievers religious. Not always, but it’s got a habit of making people rethink where they sit in reality.”

He chuckled warmly, that lopsided smile returning as he looks at Simon again.

“I’m already dead. Don’t think any point in respecting a god I ain’t ever been in the good graces of. But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. Half of em are closer to malicious entities than gods.”

He paused, taking a bite more carefully with his next chosen words.

“And even if you’re dead, can’t you double die? I’ve heard of bits and pieces of that. I’ve certainly never been in the good graces of God, I wasn’t taken during the quiet rapture and denied his name for most of my life. I can only hope it’s not too late when I finally die.”

He shrugged a bit, waiting to the cigarette to catch before capping the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket again.

“When I died I didn’t even know this place existed at all, let alone why I ended up here instead of the Dark World I keep hearin’ ‘bout.”

His eyes drifted to the missing arm, expression unreadable as he looked the man over more properly.

He had more to say but when the smoke hit his lungs, he broke out in a flurry of coughing. He held up a finger to ask for one second so he can talk once more.

“God, okay— anyways, sorry, but I’m just gonna assume the ‘Dark World’ is hell. Either way, you don’t know me. You can’t speak on what I am,” his tone stiffened, gaze hardening.

He gave Simon his time to adjust.

“From what I’ve heard… yeah, the Dark World sounds like it.”

He paused a bit longer.

If they got to know each other better, then he may explain it. Either that or when he’s drunk.

“Well uh… not too sure. It was looking for another one… seemed pretty worked up about it too, and was asking if I knew where the other guy was. I kept my mouth shut and it killed me.”

He shrugged, not even seeming particularly bothered about it. Just a fact of what happened.

“You ever think of trying to leave? There’s a way for me to get back to Eden through a door so there’s probably another way for you to escape to.”

Simon was well aware of Parker approaching him. His senses seemed to always be turned on to the max, keeping track of each person walking by or conversation that was just within earshot. If he hadn’t heard Parker he would have leapt out of his skin.

Simon did tense though, eying the man up and down. Woah, okay, there was a lot of man sitting right there. That man could definitely chuck him across the room like a football if he so pleased.

“I’m..good?” He sounded more confused to be questioned.

Simon was just staring at his food for who knows how long so he supposed the didn’t look the most normal. His stomach was wanting him dead but wasting food was like a cardinal sin. He didn’t understand how people threw it away so easily.

His frail frame, eyebags, and clothes sewn together about fifty times didn’t help his case either. This sweater still had the blood stains from when his arm hand been burnt off. Despite that, he was cleaner than he’d been in a while but still, he was in need of a bath.

His expression didn’t waiver, but it softened a bit, like he’d decided Simon wasn’t gunna bite his hand off if he got too close or pressed something a bit to much.

“What is it? Don’t think I’ve seen em serve soup before. Or I just never found myself ordering it.”

He shrugged slightly, trying to let the man know he could lower his guard. Sure he looked like he could break Simon in half with his bare hands, and he certainly had the confidence that came along with it. But, he acted gentle.

“You don’t… have t’ eat it. nothing gets wasted here I don’t think. They got a compost bin you can scrape the extra bits into if you don’t feel like finishing.”

His accent was fairly noticeable, though it wasn’t too dissimilar to the other accents he’d heard from other guests on occasion.

“Got plenty use for it too. You don’t gotta stress over those things.”

He shot the man another warm look.

“Uh— chicken noodle soup. My stomach isn’t exactly the strongest,” his eyes scanned for the three exits he already had planned out. “She goes easy on the chicken normally, gives me some saltines to go with it.”

He slide the crackers across the table as an offering, “And no, I can’t toss it. It just feels weird. It’s wasted labor still and just feels disgusting. I’d rather puke it up later.”

The story with that was much longer than he cared to share with a stranger.

He wasn’t lying. An admission for an admission. He’d met plenty of people that operated that way. Usually the jumpy types, which… fit the bill with Simon.

“The point is t’ get some of the food to stay in. Puking it up makes it so it doesn’t feed anybody. Eat what y’ can, leave the rest. It ain’t wasted, just saved for later.”

He paused a moment, thinking of his next words more carefully. He hadn’t managed to be a P.I for years without knowing how to get people talking to him.

“… I ain’t asking for y’ crackers, those’re yours. Plus if that’s what helps keep the food down that’d just make me feel shitty for taking em from you.”

It was a weird feeling to see a man looking half starved offering his food just because another guy started talking to him about his food. It was like there was a pit forming in his stomach.

His shoulders tensed at his last remark and maybe, he should find a way out of this conversation. His hand came to rest on his harness where his knife was carried, nails that were brittle and chewed down rubbing along it.

“Why do you ask?”

He backed off, putting his hands up a bit, trying to tell Simon he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gunna be the first one to throw punches.

“That ain’t something people who had it easy tend t’ do. I know how that is. Before I ended up here my job was helping people who the system had a habit of ignoring. Maybe wasn’t the best choice but hey, it felt good to help out.”

Parker passed the saltines back, giving it an extra bit of push just to keep his distance from Simon.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m no threat to you and I have no reason t’ be. I just want to get to know you, peacefully.”

He knew the look of someone reaching for a knife. The way their eyes went a bit fearful or god forbid wild. He never was as good at talking people down as Arthur was… the man had a knack for people.

His hand immediately went back to the carrier, thumb rubbing over the texture repeatedly. Simon didn’t look like he wanted to use it, no, he looked like he was pleading for Parker to not make him have to do anything.

“I appreciate it but I don’t know how you could do that,” he shrugged.

He also didn’t know if he could trust it.

He sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, fiddling with one but hesitating to light it. Just… looking at it.

“Half o’ the people here are gods or the like and I don’t know how t’ help them. they’re in a different ballpark entirely from me at least and I just… wanted to talk to another human again that I didn’t already know when I was alive.”

He stopped, looking at Simon like he just said something outrageous. Or like he just insulted the man’s life’s’ work.

“‘Gods’ is a funny thing you call them. They’re nothing close to that. Besides, you can’t help a demon. They’ll always fuck you over in the end.”

he went to take a bite of his soup with a wrinkled nose in disgust. Swallowing it looked like a struggle.

… it wasn’t inaccurate, the fact that they fuck people over whether intentional or not. He ended up here cuz of one after all.

“Though I suppose you’re right about the fucking people over part. Haven’t met one that ain’t got me killed or brought me t’ some weird place like here.”

He sighed, pulling out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. He pulled another one out of the box, offering it to Simon.

“Want one? Feels weird to be the only one with a smoke sometimes. No pressure though if y’ don’t want it.”

He sighed. Simon wasn’t gunna be easy to get to open up or trust him, but… hell, he we itching for a new person to know that wasn’t some flavor of inhuman.

“Thank you,” he held it awkwardly in between his fingers, a crude mimicry of what he saw from Noel and Parker, while waiting for a light.

“And yeah, call them what you’d like but be careful disrespecting God’s name like that. He’s the one true God here,” he chuckled softly like it was silly mistake.

“But there’s not much you can help me with, bud. I’m willing to get to know you but other than my body being physically fucked, I don’t got much. I’m as desperate for a human around here as you are.”

“Heh. The Horrors got a way o’ making the religious lose their faith and the nonbelievers religious. Not always, but it’s got a habit of making people rethink where they sit in reality.”

He chuckled warmly, that lopsided smile returning as he looks at Simon again.

“I’m already dead. Don’t think any point in respecting a god I ain’t ever been in the good graces of. But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. Half of em are closer to malicious entities than gods.”

He paused, taking a bite more carefully with his next chosen words.

“And even if you’re dead, can’t you double die? I’ve heard of bits and pieces of that. I’ve certainly never been in the good graces of God, I wasn’t taken during the quiet rapture and denied his name for most of my life. I can only hope it’s not too late when I finally die.”

He shrugged a bit, waiting to the cigarette to catch before capping the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket again.

“When I died I didn’t even know this place existed at all, let alone why I ended up here instead of the Dark World I keep hearin’ ‘bout.”

His eyes drifted to the missing arm, expression unreadable as he looked the man over more properly.

He had more to say but when the smoke hit his lungs, he broke out in a flurry of coughing. He held up a finger to ask for one second so he can talk once more.

“God, okay— anyways, sorry, but I’m just gonna assume the ‘Dark World’ is hell. Either way, you don’t know me. You can’t speak on what I am,” his tone stiffened, gaze hardening.

He gave Simon his time to adjust.

“From what I’ve heard… yeah, the Dark World sounds like it.”

He paused a bit longer.

If they got to know each other better, then he may explain it. Either that or when he’s drunk.

Simon was well aware of Parker approaching him. His senses seemed to always be turned on to the max, keeping track of each person walking by or conversation that was just within earshot. If he hadn’t heard Parker he would have leapt out of his skin.

Simon did tense though, eying the man up and down. Woah, okay, there was a lot of man sitting right there. That man could definitely chuck him across the room like a football if he so pleased.

“I’m..good?” He sounded more confused to be questioned.

Simon was just staring at his food for who knows how long so he supposed the didn’t look the most normal. His stomach was wanting him dead but wasting food was like a cardinal sin. He didn’t understand how people threw it away so easily.

His frail frame, eyebags, and clothes sewn together about fifty times didn’t help his case either. This sweater still had the blood stains from when his arm hand been burnt off. Despite that, he was cleaner than he’d been in a while but still, he was in need of a bath.

His expression didn’t waiver, but it softened a bit, like he’d decided Simon wasn’t gunna bite his hand off if he got too close or pressed something a bit to much.

“What is it? Don’t think I’ve seen em serve soup before. Or I just never found myself ordering it.”

He shrugged slightly, trying to let the man know he could lower his guard. Sure he looked like he could break Simon in half with his bare hands, and he certainly had the confidence that came along with it. But, he acted gentle.

“You don’t… have t’ eat it. nothing gets wasted here I don’t think. They got a compost bin you can scrape the extra bits into if you don’t feel like finishing.”

His accent was fairly noticeable, though it wasn’t too dissimilar to the other accents he’d heard from other guests on occasion.

“Got plenty use for it too. You don’t gotta stress over those things.”

He shot the man another warm look.

“Uh— chicken noodle soup. My stomach isn’t exactly the strongest,” his eyes scanned for the three exits he already had planned out. “She goes easy on the chicken normally, gives me some saltines to go with it.”

He slide the crackers across the table as an offering, “And no, I can’t toss it. It just feels weird. It’s wasted labor still and just feels disgusting. I’d rather puke it up later.”

The story with that was much longer than he cared to share with a stranger.

He wasn’t lying. An admission for an admission. He’d met plenty of people that operated that way. Usually the jumpy types, which… fit the bill with Simon.

“The point is t’ get some of the food to stay in. Puking it up makes it so it doesn’t feed anybody. Eat what y’ can, leave the rest. It ain’t wasted, just saved for later.”

He paused a moment, thinking of his next words more carefully. He hadn’t managed to be a P.I for years without knowing how to get people talking to him.

“… I ain’t asking for y’ crackers, those’re yours. Plus if that’s what helps keep the food down that’d just make me feel shitty for taking em from you.”

It was a weird feeling to see a man looking half starved offering his food just because another guy started talking to him about his food. It was like there was a pit forming in his stomach.

His shoulders tensed at his last remark and maybe, he should find a way out of this conversation. His hand came to rest on his harness where his knife was carried, nails that were brittle and chewed down rubbing along it.

“Why do you ask?”

He backed off, putting his hands up a bit, trying to tell Simon he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t gunna be the first one to throw punches.

“That ain’t something people who had it easy tend t’ do. I know how that is. Before I ended up here my job was helping people who the system had a habit of ignoring. Maybe wasn’t the best choice but hey, it felt good to help out.”

Parker passed the saltines back, giving it an extra bit of push just to keep his distance from Simon.

“I’m not fighting you. I’m no threat to you and I have no reason t’ be. I just want to get to know you, peacefully.”

He knew the look of someone reaching for a knife. The way their eyes went a bit fearful or god forbid wild. He never was as good at talking people down as Arthur was… the man had a knack for people.

His hand immediately went back to the carrier, thumb rubbing over the texture repeatedly. Simon didn’t look like he wanted to use it, no, he looked like he was pleading for Parker to not make him have to do anything.

“I appreciate it but I don’t know how you could do that,” he shrugged.

He also didn’t know if he could trust it.

He sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes, fiddling with one but hesitating to light it. Just… looking at it.

“Half o’ the people here are gods or the like and I don’t know how t’ help them. they’re in a different ballpark entirely from me at least and I just… wanted to talk to another human again that I didn’t already know when I was alive.”

He stopped, looking at Simon like he just said something outrageous. Or like he just insulted the man’s life’s’ work.

“‘Gods’ is a funny thing you call them. They’re nothing close to that. Besides, you can’t help a demon. They’ll always fuck you over in the end.”

he went to take a bite of his soup with a wrinkled nose in disgust. Swallowing it looked like a struggle.

… it wasn’t inaccurate, the fact that they fuck people over whether intentional or not. He ended up here cuz of one after all.

“Though I suppose you’re right about the fucking people over part. Haven’t met one that ain’t got me killed or brought me t’ some weird place like here.”

He sighed, pulling out his lighter and lighting his cigarette. He pulled another one out of the box, offering it to Simon.

“Want one? Feels weird to be the only one with a smoke sometimes. No pressure though if y’ don’t want it.”

He sighed. Simon wasn’t gunna be easy to get to open up or trust him, but… hell, he we itching for a new person to know that wasn’t some flavor of inhuman.

“Thank you,” he held it awkwardly in between his fingers, a crude mimicry of what he saw from Noel and Parker, while waiting for a light.

“And yeah, call them what you’d like but be careful disrespecting God’s name like that. He’s the one true God here,” he chuckled softly like it was silly mistake.

“But there’s not much you can help me with, bud. I’m willing to get to know you but other than my body being physically fucked, I don’t got much. I’m as desperate for a human around here as you are.”

“Heh. The Horrors got a way o’ making the religious lose their faith and the nonbelievers religious. Not always, but it’s got a habit of making people rethink where they sit in reality.”

He chuckled warmly, that lopsided smile returning as he looks at Simon again.

“I’m already dead. Don’t think any point in respecting a god I ain’t ever been in the good graces of. But, yeah. I get what you’re saying. Half of em are closer to malicious entities than gods.”

He paused, taking a bite more carefully with his next chosen words.

“And even if you’re dead, can’t you double die? I’ve heard of bits and pieces of that. I’ve certainly never been in the good graces of God, I wasn’t taken during the quiet rapture and denied his name for most of my life. I can only hope it’s not too late when I finally die.”

He shrugged a bit, waiting to the cigarette to catch before capping the lighter and slipping it back into his pocket again.

“When I died I didn’t even know this place existed at all, let alone why I ended up here instead of the Dark World I keep hearin’ ‘bout.”

His eyes drifted to the missing arm, expression unreadable as he looked the man over more properly.

He had more to say but when the smoke hit his lungs, he broke out in a flurry of coughing. He held up a finger to ask for one second so he can talk once more.

“God, okay— anyways, sorry, but I’m just gonna assume the ‘Dark World’ is hell. Either way, you don’t know me. You can’t speak on what I am,” his tone stiffened, gaze hardening.

There was different with a multitude of new people buzzing about, all dressed much differently than him. He felt like he was being towered over as well, which didn’t serve to chill his nerves. On Eden, his frame was typically considered on the larger side despite how his ribs could be seen when he was shirtless.

Relax. Just take a deep breath. One thing at a time. He didn’t need his eyes to scan every tiny detail.

He sat down at the bar and prayed that whatever medication Daisy gave him didn’t interact poorly with alcohol. This kind of thing was a treat for him, considering how most alcohol was used for worship.

@simon-thebutcher 🫁

"Hey, you feeling alright?"

A voice cut through his racing thoughts – a man (?) with kind eyes and a lopsided smile seemed just about ready to take Simon's drink away.

The man took a sip of his drink, a manhattan, nose curling up with the face of someone not used to regularly having alcohol. He just told the bartender to get him whatever he thought he’d like and this was not that.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he messed with his harness, his one arm left fidgeting close to where his knife was held.

"Are you sure? You don't look like you're enjoying that very much."

The stranger slid over their glass toward him; it had a stick of celery poking out of the top, and smelled strongly of... tomatoes?

He raised an eyebrow, “You sure? This is your drink after all.”

“That’s a fair enough trade to me but can you have a drink of what you gave me first?”

"Oh- cherry and tomato- not good- not good!" They muffled between the fruit still in their mouth, waving their hands around until they managed to swallow.

How easily he took a swig was a good enough answer for him. If he had poisoned it then there certainly would’ve been a moment of hesitation at the very least.

He took a better whiff of it before taking a sip. Simon shrugged. It wasn’t the best thing he’s ever tasted but it certainly wasn’t the worst.

“You just go around checking on everyone as a hobby or what?”

His guard was slipping away fairly quickly. It’s been awhile since he’s had the opportunity to properly let loose with all the chaos lately.

They were non-denominational on Eden, never officially labeling themselves as Catholic or Lutheran for example. When being taught their history, it was something he knew like the back of his palm though.

They stopped suddenly when they saw the look in Simon's eyes, quickly letting go of the straw.

Simon took another drink, trying it out once more. Yeah, it was just sorta meh.

He scoffed and the offense taken was pungent in his tone. Simon’s jaw was set way too tight to be lighthearted. Whatever nerve he hit was a sensitive one.

He just got a chance to relax and now he has to start saying this?

“Let’s just move past that, okay? I’m Christian and I apparently look like shit with you think is related to my religion. Great. I still don’t have your name.”

He stuck out his left arm to shake, given the lack of a right.

"Rowan. Ro, for short. Nice to meet you too, Simon."

They shook his hand firmly.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine but it would have to be. Ro looked like he could pick him up by his neck with ease if he wanted. Besides, he’d relax eventually.

He probably should have while she was alive.

Mine's quite funny, actually. I was born with red hair, not black. My mum called me Rowan because she read that it was an Irish name for redheads– it's a kind of tree, too, part of some old mythology or fairytale, but I don't think she knew that...

He had to reminded himself not everyone knew about the quiet rapture after an awkward pause.

“The quiet rapture made all habitable planets poof out of existence essentially. No one knows why. The COI and Eden were the two largest space stations left afterwards.”

He took another drink.

Oh, an astronaut from a post-apocalyptic Christian nationalist alternate timeline... Interesting.

"Ah, I get it."

No they didn't.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of things like that before.

He nudged him playfully.

“I think I can handle some odd adult stuff too.”

He had no clue what Ro meant. Romance smut books weren’t exactly a genre on Eden

They chuckled, happy that Simon took everything they said better this time, and with a great level of open-mindedness. Maybe the cult he was obviously in weren't as traditional as they expected.

It took him a second.

Then another.

Then horror dawned on his expression of the very crucial detail he missed.

“Oh. Uh—“

Ew. His nose curled up.

There was no way he was right.

“Is it what I’m thinking it is..?”

“What are you even talking about?”

He stood and had to hold to the table for a second to steady his dizzying vision.

“Hold on.”

Simon took another moment to steady himself before grabbing the bloodymary, downing the rest of it, then doing the same with the manhattan with much more difficulty. His entire face scrunched up like he bit into a lemon.

No, he wouldn’t. He was a lightweight. Have fun Ro.

Ro was planning an early night anyways, so they'd already allowed themselves a weaker drink with dinner; the bloody mary was just a treat. They were barely even buzzed, which was probably good on this occasion, as they'd soon be becoming Simon's caretaker.

I'm going on a bit, aren't I? There's a glass of water, and here's your, er... reading material.

He sighed and took a drink of the water. His stomach already felt like it was curling up in protest from the drinks from earlier but it was no more than the normal.

Ro went to fetch some clothes from a chest of drawers, turning back to face Simon with an almost bashful blush to their face.

"I'll still be here. I'm just in the bathroom getting ready for bed, if you don't mind – this suit isn't very comfortable. You can start reading."

He was too tired to argue. It’s been a long day of running around like a mad man. A single break was all he needed.

“You dont mind me laying down in your bed and all, right? I don’t have any diseases, I swear.”

If Simon were to change and throw a blanket over him in the time Ro left to get ready for the night, he would notice that their bed was incredibly soft and comfortable, with enough room for two people to spread out.

They returned around ten minutes later, significantly more dressed down – now in only an oversized band t-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and some fluffy socks that felt almost uncharacteristically 'cute' for a man like him.

The book was in his lap when he returned and he was about two and a half pages in. He was squinting way too much considering how close that book was to his face.

When he glanced up, he smiled and glanced him up and down. He maybe stared for a tad too long and he’d likely blame the alcohol.

“Yeah, I have. It’s cute so far.”

Ah, he hadn’t got to those parts yet.

“Is that what you mean by non-outdoor clothes..?”

Somehow, they could even pull off a ratty old shirt and boxers. The dark circles under their eyes were more noticeable now, and their hair was brushed back and no longer styled.

Ro seemed relieved that Simon was enjoying their work, choosing to sit on the bed, beside him.

He struggled for a moment to find a word to describe it. Complimenting another man’s(?) appearance wasn’t something he did often. Usually it was a compliment about their abilities.

He took off his sweater, folding it and putting it aside before sliding on the jumper. He took off the harness holding his knife as well.

He ran his hands along the fabric, enjoying the softness.

Well, that explained a lot, actually. Ro could only hope he was in for some petty crime -like interstellar tax fraud- and they hadn't just let a serial murderer or some other sort of creep into their bedroom.

Him carrying a weapon in a harness was not easing that worry.

He wouldn’t verbally question his fear yet but his face said it all for him. Simon was in prison for about half of his life, if not more, so the idea was just normalized to him.

“You don’t have to touch it at all.”

You weren't there for like, murder, right?"

"Oh, oh thank God. No- yeah- we don't have to talk about it- I'm fine- I just- didn't feel like getting dismembered tonight...

He made the size of the text between his thumb and pointer finger like he’s about to pinch something, “They’re like this big and my eyes can’t read shit! Some words don’ even make sense either when I try to use the ‘phonics’ thing that lady taught me. Thanks, I can say it but I need the meaning in my brain.”

"Okay, clearly not helping."

He was kind of cute, now that they thought about it.

No. Shut up, stupid brain. He's not yours.

“Please?”

It was like when his mom would tell him bedtime stories before he went to bed. If he ended up sleeping right now, he wouldn’t mind.

He was practically rolling himself into a burrito, the warmth acting as his savior of his permanent coldness.

They chuckled, even daring to pat him gently on the shoulder.

He grumbled and hardly reacted to his touch. Simon just tucked his head into the blankets more, only serving to muffle his voice.

“It’s okay. do whatever you’ant. You look silly like the rest of you guys.”

They turned to him, faking surprise and speaking in a jokingly accusatory tone, but quickly laughed it off and continued the conversation.

Simon shrugged.

“I like it…”

He pulled him closer, now just sniffing him like a dog. Simon was just moving him however he saw fit, sitting up in order to lead him down to sniff his hair.

He did earn a chuckle though as the implication of everything else flew over his head. Third base was a term used in his world but he wasn’t exactly known for being in the dating pool. If he were sober, that likely would’ve hit him square in the face.

It actually wouldn't have bothered them all that much; however, that level of closeness might make them pass out on the spot.

The sleeve of the jumper dangled off of it, making it look a tad silly.

This was a man in desperate need of some gentle care and attention.

"Are you alri- oh...okay-"

They stared back at him.

Once he was close and putting his hair up, he sat rigid with his shoulders practically up to his ears.

“Mmm,” he shrugged it off. “No worries.”

That felt…nice. It wasn’t the touch of being pushed into his cell, handcuffs roughly clinking into place, nor the squirming bodies as they tried to fit three men in one twin bed. It was just gentle, careful not to tug on his hair, that admittedly was a bit thin in Ro’s hands.

His hand went to where his knife used to be stored only to realize he’d already taken it off.

“I jus’ish I could’ve gotten to know her longer. She died when I was fourteen.”

The dam burst at that point, tears pouring down his face and the alcohol sure wasn’t helping. He always liked to think he’d grieved her and that he’s moved on but in truth, he was far from it. He never had enough peace to properly process the loss.

He was always the teary-eyed type, despite how he knew a man shouldn’t cry like this. Simon was never able to hold it back.

“Sorry, I just met you.”

There was different with a multitude of new people buzzing about, all dressed much differently than him. He felt like he was being towered over as well, which didn’t serve to chill his nerves. On Eden, his frame was typically considered on the larger side despite how his ribs could be seen when he was shirtless.

Relax. Just take a deep breath. One thing at a time. He didn’t need his eyes to scan every tiny detail.

He sat down at the bar and prayed that whatever medication Daisy gave him didn’t interact poorly with alcohol. This kind of thing was a treat for him, considering how most alcohol was used for worship.

@simon-thebutcher 🫁

"Hey, you feeling alright?"

A voice cut through his racing thoughts – a man (?) with kind eyes and a lopsided smile seemed just about ready to take Simon's drink away.

The man took a sip of his drink, a manhattan, nose curling up with the face of someone not used to regularly having alcohol. He just told the bartender to get him whatever he thought he’d like and this was not that.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he messed with his harness, his one arm left fidgeting close to where his knife was held.

"Are you sure? You don't look like you're enjoying that very much."

The stranger slid over their glass toward him; it had a stick of celery poking out of the top, and smelled strongly of... tomatoes?

He raised an eyebrow, “You sure? This is your drink after all.”

“That’s a fair enough trade to me but can you have a drink of what you gave me first?”

"Oh- cherry and tomato- not good- not good!" They muffled between the fruit still in their mouth, waving their hands around until they managed to swallow.

How easily he took a swig was a good enough answer for him. If he had poisoned it then there certainly would’ve been a moment of hesitation at the very least.

He took a better whiff of it before taking a sip. Simon shrugged. It wasn’t the best thing he’s ever tasted but it certainly wasn’t the worst.

“You just go around checking on everyone as a hobby or what?”

His guard was slipping away fairly quickly. It’s been awhile since he’s had the opportunity to properly let loose with all the chaos lately.

They were non-denominational on Eden, never officially labeling themselves as Catholic or Lutheran for example. When being taught their history, it was something he knew like the back of his palm though.

They stopped suddenly when they saw the look in Simon's eyes, quickly letting go of the straw.

Simon took another drink, trying it out once more. Yeah, it was just sorta meh.

He scoffed and the offense taken was pungent in his tone. Simon’s jaw was set way too tight to be lighthearted. Whatever nerve he hit was a sensitive one.

He just got a chance to relax and now he has to start saying this?

“Let’s just move past that, okay? I’m Christian and I apparently look like shit with you think is related to my religion. Great. I still don’t have your name.”

He stuck out his left arm to shake, given the lack of a right.

"Rowan. Ro, for short. Nice to meet you too, Simon."

They shook his hand firmly.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine but it would have to be. Ro looked like he could pick him up by his neck with ease if he wanted. Besides, he’d relax eventually.

He probably should have while she was alive.

Mine's quite funny, actually. I was born with red hair, not black. My mum called me Rowan because she read that it was an Irish name for redheads– it's a kind of tree, too, part of some old mythology or fairytale, but I don't think she knew that...

He had to reminded himself not everyone knew about the quiet rapture after an awkward pause.

“The quiet rapture made all habitable planets poof out of existence essentially. No one knows why. The COI and Eden were the two largest space stations left afterwards.”

He took another drink.

Oh, an astronaut from a post-apocalyptic Christian nationalist alternate timeline... Interesting.

"Ah, I get it."

No they didn't.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of things like that before.

He nudged him playfully.

“I think I can handle some odd adult stuff too.”

He had no clue what Ro meant. Romance smut books weren’t exactly a genre on Eden

They chuckled, happy that Simon took everything they said better this time, and with a great level of open-mindedness. Maybe the cult he was obviously in weren't as traditional as they expected.

It took him a second.

Then another.

Then horror dawned on his expression of the very crucial detail he missed.

“Oh. Uh—“

Ew. His nose curled up.

There was no way he was right.

“Is it what I’m thinking it is..?”

“What are you even talking about?”

He stood and had to hold to the table for a second to steady his dizzying vision.

“Hold on.”

Simon took another moment to steady himself before grabbing the bloodymary, downing the rest of it, then doing the same with the manhattan with much more difficulty. His entire face scrunched up like he bit into a lemon.

No, he wouldn’t. He was a lightweight. Have fun Ro.

Ro was planning an early night anyways, so they'd already allowed themselves a weaker drink with dinner; the bloody mary was just a treat. They were barely even buzzed, which was probably good on this occasion, as they'd soon be becoming Simon's caretaker.

I'm going on a bit, aren't I? There's a glass of water, and here's your, er... reading material.

He sighed and took a drink of the water. His stomach already felt like it was curling up in protest from the drinks from earlier but it was no more than the normal.

Ro went to fetch some clothes from a chest of drawers, turning back to face Simon with an almost bashful blush to their face.

"I'll still be here. I'm just in the bathroom getting ready for bed, if you don't mind – this suit isn't very comfortable. You can start reading."

He was too tired to argue. It’s been a long day of running around like a mad man. A single break was all he needed.

“You dont mind me laying down in your bed and all, right? I don’t have any diseases, I swear.”

If Simon were to change and throw a blanket over him in the time Ro left to get ready for the night, he would notice that their bed was incredibly soft and comfortable, with enough room for two people to spread out.

They returned around ten minutes later, significantly more dressed down – now in only an oversized band t-shirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and some fluffy socks that felt almost uncharacteristically 'cute' for a man like him.

The book was in his lap when he returned and he was about two and a half pages in. He was squinting way too much considering how close that book was to his face.

When he glanced up, he smiled and glanced him up and down. He maybe stared for a tad too long and he’d likely blame the alcohol.

“Yeah, I have. It’s cute so far.”

Ah, he hadn’t got to those parts yet.

“Is that what you mean by non-outdoor clothes..?”

Somehow, they could even pull off a ratty old shirt and boxers. The dark circles under their eyes were more noticeable now, and their hair was brushed back and no longer styled.

Ro seemed relieved that Simon was enjoying their work, choosing to sit on the bed, beside him.

He struggled for a moment to find a word to describe it. Complimenting another man’s(?) appearance wasn’t something he did often. Usually it was a compliment about their abilities.

He took off his sweater, folding it and putting it aside before sliding on the jumper. He took off the harness holding his knife as well.

He ran his hands along the fabric, enjoying the softness.

Well, that explained a lot, actually. Ro could only hope he was in for some petty crime -like interstellar tax fraud- and they hadn't just let a serial murderer or some other sort of creep into their bedroom.

Him carrying a weapon in a harness was not easing that worry.

He wouldn’t verbally question his fear yet but his face said it all for him. Simon was in prison for about half of his life, if not more, so the idea was just normalized to him.

“You don’t have to touch it at all.”

You weren't there for like, murder, right?"

"Oh, oh thank God. No- yeah- we don't have to talk about it- I'm fine- I just- didn't feel like getting dismembered tonight...

He made the size of the text between his thumb and pointer finger like he’s about to pinch something, “They’re like this big and my eyes can’t read shit! Some words don’ even make sense either when I try to use the ‘phonics’ thing that lady taught me. Thanks, I can say it but I need the meaning in my brain.”

"Okay, clearly not helping."

He was kind of cute, now that they thought about it.

No. Shut up, stupid brain. He's not yours.

“Please?”

It was like when his mom would tell him bedtime stories before he went to bed. If he ended up sleeping right now, he wouldn’t mind.

He was practically rolling himself into a burrito, the warmth acting as his savior of his permanent coldness.

They chuckled, even daring to pat him gently on the shoulder.

He grumbled and hardly reacted to his touch. Simon just tucked his head into the blankets more, only serving to muffle his voice.

“It’s okay. do whatever you’ant. You look silly like the rest of you guys.”

They turned to him, faking surprise and speaking in a jokingly accusatory tone, but quickly laughed it off and continued the conversation.

Simon shrugged.

“I like it…”

He pulled him closer, now just sniffing him like a dog. Simon was just moving him however he saw fit, sitting up in order to lead him down to sniff his hair.

He did earn a chuckle though as the implication of everything else flew over his head. Third base was a term used in his world but he wasn’t exactly known for being in the dating pool. If he were sober, that likely would’ve hit him square in the face.

It actually wouldn't have bothered them all that much; however, that level of closeness might make them pass out on the spot.

The sleeve of the jumper dangled off of it, making it look a tad silly.

This was a man in desperate need of some gentle care and attention.