#nanda asks

To Jameson: has there ever been a time that Nanda took it too far in a scene situation?

To both: what are your favorite and least favorite parts of your dynamic?

To Ash: thank you for answering ALL of my questions! You have so genuinely fascinating characters and I LOVE learning more about them😁

Nanda hums, tapping a finger as he considers. "No," He says, finally. "He has never been less than perfect for me."

Jameson, on the other hand, narrows his eyes. "He told me he was going to shoot me and had me run through the woods like a fucking moron once, does that count?"

"Oh, hush, you showed yourself very capable then-"

"I thought you were going to murder me, you goddamn asshole ghost!"

Nanda's smile doesn't fade. "There is my regret. Our dynamic meant that he did not know me well enough to understand that I would never do him harm with these hands that I could not nurse him through the healing of."

Jameson... blushes, deeply red, scowling at the ground. "Whatever. The worst part of our dynamic is that he fucking died. And I wasn't even a person who could miss him. If I didn't run, they'd have taken him out of my head and sold me to somebody else, and whoever the fuck it was, it wasn't going to be him. So I had to run, so I could keep him."

Nanda blinks, this apparently catching him off guard. "What?"

"Fuck you, you knew it as well as I did even if you never said it, you asshole." Jameson blinks a little too rapidly. His eyes might glimmer a little, seem wet in the light. "I know you did. The worst part about losing you was knowing that if they caught me, I couldn't even keep the last of you in my head. Fucking dumbass. Should've seen a goddamn cardiologist when you had that fucking twinge thing, but no, you had to go and die on me-"

"I-... pet, I-"

"I was yours, yeah." Jameson's jaw trembles. "But you were mine, too."

Nanda pauses. He has the pet stretched out over his lap, now. The young man watches you with an expression that suggests he would murder you if he could. Nanda's fingers gently play through the let's soft dark hair.

Jameson, baby, don’t forget to say thank you😊

It's Nanda's turn to look distinctly uncomfortable with the question. His easy, arrogant smile fades a little. "A time he-... ah. Well. I suppose-... no, let's be honest today. When I opened the box. He sat up, and once I pulled the gag out of his mouth, he looked at me and said something like, where the fuck am I? And what can I say? I was in-... I was absolutely struck by him, then."

Jameson, what’s something you were surprised to see Nanda being a nerd about? Anything from music, food, movies, etc!

Nanda, describe your perfect day! SFW or NSFW!

Jameson, thinking back on his time with Nanda, sits in silence for a moment too long. His scowl deepens. You notice his throat moves, as if he can't quite get the words out. When he finally speaks, his voice sounds even raspier than normal, slightly thin. His eyes might glimmer, a little. "Food. He used to talk all the fucking-" His voice catches. The glare on his face suggests pointing out his obvious grief will result in violence. "The fucking time about food. Food from different countries, different ways to make goddamn cheese, how he ate that poison fish in Japan one time for w-work..."

It’s very interesting to me how these two fellas use totally different coping mechanisms or shields or whatever you wanna call them to control what others perceive of them: Nanda’s humor and smiles and laughs until shit gets real, and Jameson’s anger, rage and fury dissipates (for the most part) when shit gets real.

That said; I ask each of you to speak on something vulnerable that you haven’t told each other yet.

Can’t wait to see how this pans out.

Jameson looks sidelong at Nanda, and then away. "No. I don't want to do that."

"Why not? I'm dead. It's not like I could punish you for it." Nanda is relaxed, compared to Jameson's obvious tension. At least outwardly.

"I just said-"

"Don't use me as your excuse for dishonesty, pet."

"... Fine." Jameson's scowl deepens. "I'm in love with someone else and the sex is better."

Nanda blinks. Once. Twice. "Impossible."

"Which one?"

"Both. Either. ... Both."

"Well, it's true. I'm, it's not done to me anymore, I'm making choices the whole time. Equal. Even taking it, I'm equal. And if I say stop, it stops. It's... better."

Nanda is quiet for a long time. His outward appearance is unmoved but the tension ratchets upwards. Then, finally, he says, "I had already begun on the paperwork to liberate you."

It's Jameson's turn to go silent, then. "... You never mentioned-"

Nanda has to think about it. Then he glances over at Jameson, still scowling at the floor. "Anyone causing damage to what's mine."

Jameson's expression doesn't change. "Yep. Like a busted kitchen chair, that's me."

"You didn't used to care about me saying-"

"Yeah, well. Shit changes. Your dumb ass died. I figured some shit out."

Nanda tenses. "Who have you turned into, pet?"

Jameson looks up. "Who I had to be to survive two assholes who tried to kill me and a lot who wanted to hurt me."

"They took all your softness, didn't they?"

"Soft people don't survive. I did."

Also, what exactly did he mean by training Jameson before liberating him?

Nah, he would neither have the time nor the patience to do his own training when you're talking about something THAT intensive.