ic contact 2 mask or menace

[infomodder]

"Gone fishing."

[ so don't leave messages to ruin the after fishing glow !!!

your one stop shop for not leaving him alone, previous contact post can be found here ]

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[heisenbitch]

[ Pushing his hand a little anxiously over his shaved head, Jesse's eyes dart up to the dude approaching from the side of the house. So, this is Will Graham, huh? This is... whoever Will is supposed to be to Jesse. A friend? A partner in crime? A confidante? He doesn't know what to make of that smile directed at him, friendly though it seems. Jesse automatically pulls his mouth into a thin, perfunctory smile in return; a smile that doesn't look like it fits on Jesse's face right now. Smiling is the last fucking thing he feels like doing right now. ]

Uh, y-yeah. Thanks. [ And Jesse steps through the gate, hands braced in front of him at the remaining two dogs leaping up at him with tails wagging. That, at least, draws a small but genuine smile out of Jesse, bemused though he is, as he offers them tentative scritches on their heads. It's at that moment that he looks up... and sees the racoons in the window. Oh man, but that's weird, how they're staring at him. That has Jesse stopping in his tracks. His surprise slips out of him before he can stop himself: ]

Whoa, are those... like, pets?

[infomodder]

[Will looks back a little longer than necessary to see what Jesse's referring to. He needs a moment to brace, prepare, mentally steel himself for what's bound to happen. Others may tell Jesse bits and pieces, but others are not Will Graham. He must figure out what is and is not necessary to pass along, what this new Jesse needs to know versus what he does not. The Porter would be far too kind to bring him in with all the knowledge of the last, at least regarding futures and the true natures of Mister Whites.]

Those are April's. My wife. [He turns back, his smile the same sort of ill-fitting but friendly enough.] Come meet the gang again.

[There's a wink in his voice as he moves ahead to open the door, the sort of hinting that comes from an older age, a bit of experience. He doesn't want to make this new Jesse feel uncomfortable beneath sky and capable of being seen from the road, no. Better to get anything truly unbearable out somewhere cozy. Somewhere homey.

Dogs bound in, the one who snarled at Jesse giving him a wide distance. Little raccoon faces appear in the hallway to see what all this fuss is about. Jesse might get a whiff of fresh coffee drifting form the kitchen.

Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring!]

[heisenbitch]

[ Meet the gang again. And just like that, Jesse suddenly gets a very surreal, uneasy sense of feeling like he's stepped inside someone else's skin, someone who is supposed to be him, yet is someone else entirely at the same time. This, thinks Jesse with gnawing dread twisting about in his stomach as he follows the man up the path towards the house, must be what old people with dementia feel like: Misplaced, unfathomably lost, slotted into some time and place where they know they're supposed to fit in somehow but have no recollection how.

The house he's led into is, at the very least, cosy. Definitely homey. Standing on the other side of the threshold once he enters the door, Jesse gazes around quickly, taking in the warmth and the comforting faint scent of coffee. His gaze falls onto the man, then, and Jesse pinches his lips into a tight, grateful little smile while awkwardly slotting his hands into his jeans pockets. ]

Thanks. Y'know, for meeting me at such short notice. You, uh... [ His gaze drifts off towards the living room, aimless and unsettled, while he tries keeping his tone light and airy. It's not entirely convincing; there's something strained in his voice, like something deep down inside him is trying to choke him with panic, or nerves. ] You got a real nice place. It's all, like, super spacious and homey and... stuff.