daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[He watches Jack's expression, trying to read what's there in conjunction with the explanation itself. He gathers certainty and uncertainty both, and he considers for a moment in which direction he wants to steer this conversation.]

You know, thus far, there's been a dividing line with these memories of ours. [With his free hand, Ardyn makes a little gesture in the air, as if drawing an imaginary line. Humor him and his dramatics, okay.] What we remember has been delegated to fantasy, some far-away life that might be novel or disturbing or confusing, but we can step away from them in our reality, and say, "Well, that isn't me now. It doesn't really matter what happened in them, in the end."

[His turn to pause.] I've started to wonder what might happen once we started remembering too much, though. Becoming privy to a personality that doesn't line up with what we know of ourselves. And so, I feel the need to ask you this, Jack... Does knowing that you enjoyed killing those people -- who you might have been very well justified in doing so -- make you feel like a different person now?

[ Jack listens to it all with his drink in hand, fingers tented loosely over it. He's not grave, exactly, but there's an absolute dead seriousness in his demeanor that doesn't see daylight much. ]

It's weird, because I was talking with that Dave kid the other day about this. Only a couple people have more than one or two memories as far as I know, so it's not a huge problem right now, but it will be - remembering too much. Makes you kinda question who you really are after a while.

[ He drains the rest of his glass, expression blank as he rattles the ice around. ]

And for the question, yeah. Sorta. [ A breath; his words rush out on the exhale. ] Because I have killed somebody before, but it didn't feel good. I didn't like it.

[ And then he drops his head, fingers raking through his hair and ruining all his careful styling. So there's fucking that. Official bestie status obtained, con.. gratulations? ]

[And that certainly is enough to give him pause.

Ardyn adopts seriousness proper in his own tone. Uncommon for him, but he knows when such a thing isn't necessary; now would be one of those times. There's a lot he could respond with. But the most obvious comes first.]

...What happened?

[As a lawyer, and the expectations placed upon him as a result, perhaps his response should not be so simplistic. But he'll not be maudlin about it, and he wants to hear the whole story if Jack will share it.

Bestie status obtained, indeed. ]

Guy that shot my wife. Cliche as hell, I know. [ He's avoiding eye contact now, and standing up to get himself another drink is an excellent way to do it. This martini is going to be dirty as hell. ] Thought it'd make me feel better. Give me some closure. Like the heroes in action movies, y'know? Ya go out, ya take revenge, and everything gets better at the end. Somehow.

Well, it didn't. Didn't fix anything.

[ He taps an uneven staccato out on the countertop, as if thinking. ]

Nnnnnot really sure if you want details? It's not gory or anything, but it's different if you know it actually happened. Kinda freakier.

[His gaze follows Jack, and when he's done speaking, he shifts to lean forward, elbows on his knees. Ardyn downs his drink in one go this time, then idly clinks at the glass with a fingernail when he's done.]

I don't know what it's like to feel that way, but I can't imagine revenge often brings closure in general. [Oh, the irony of that statement. He'll laugh at it one day. But for now, he believes it wholeheartedly.

Ardyn stands, moving over to the same countertop that Jack's leaning against, under the pretense of making himself another drink.]

If you want to tell me, I'll listen. I won't say that I'm not curious.

Not much to tell, if I'm being honest. Went and found the guy, beat him, dragged him to a construction site, and strangled him. Dumped the body in a cement mixer. By the time anybody found him, the guy was puree. [ Shrug. ] Cops didn't look too hard into the case. Who cares about another dead 'banger anyway?

[ It's like reciting the weather, not confessing to murder. ]

That's why it kinda freaks me out that the other guy liked it so much. For me, it was just business - but for him, it was fun.

I see.

[He'll not respond with more until he's poured himself another drink proper. Again, perhaps this is not something that should be so easily shared with a lawyer, someone who's under obligation to not overlook such moral... quandaries, but Ardyn is here as a friend first and foremost. He also knows when some things are better left in the past, for everyone's sake. This is a heavy conversation, and a heavy admission comes with it -- but Jack can trust Ardyn with this, that much is for certain.

So, when he turns around, concern is more prevalent than judgment. The latter is non-existent. The former? He does a terrible job of hiding when it starts to overflow too much.]

So then it's a matter of whether or not you choose to be defined by your actions in a past life. [But even as he says it, he knows it's not so easy.] Sociopathic tendencies or otherwise.

[And a quick addendum to that:] I suppose, in the end, it's going to come down to which life you think might resonate with you the most. But for what it's worth, I don't consider the current you to be a bad person, Jack. The fact that this bothers you is a good sign. If it didn't, then I'd be truly worried.

[ Jack listens carefully, finally looking up to search Ardyn's face for any signs of... he doesn't know. Dishonesty? He's not exactly afraid of going to jail or anything, considering the... circumstances... but still, it could freak a guy out. Wouldn't freak Jack out if Ardyn confessed to murder, but Jack is Jack. He'll roll with anything.

So there's a moment of pause. ]

Ya know what? I really don't know which one feels more... I dunno, real. It's crazy, but I was so much happier in that version. Not just at that moment - I mean in general.

[ He stands up from the bar and turns, leaning back against it instead. Things feel less serious when he pretends they're nothing. ]

So. [ A beat. He flashes a smile. ] You ever kill anybody? You can tell me.

["Freaking out" is not a term that applies so easily to Ardyn. It would be a lie to say that he isn't concerned to a degree, but it'd be a different issue altogether if he thought Jack would be keen on repeating such an act in the present day -- he chooses to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, and it's with this confidence that Ardyn feels comfortable putting his faith in him. Whether or not this proves to be naive in the future, they'll all find out eventually.]

No. [He looks at him directly, something of a cant to his gaze.] Do I look like the type of man who'd be able to kill someone else?

Didn't think I was either 'til I did it. I'm not a great guy, but I'm not a killer! That would be teeeeeerible! Then you're so pissed and so hurting that you're kneeled in the dirt, watching the light die in someone's eyes. It's crazy. If you manage to hit that point, there's no telling what kind of shit you'll do.

[ Maybe he enjoyed it just a little more than he let on. Jack doesn't notice, at least; he waves his hand. ]

I think you're pretty safe, though. You've probably got a fuse the length of here to the moon.

[And here Ardyn lifts a brow. It's not like he can't understand what Jack is saying, he knows that emotions like pain and sorrow are relentless driving forces behind such acts.]

Maybe I'm just better at hiding my irritation.

[Or maybe he does let offense roll off of him, like water.]

Do you regret it?

It didn't help.

[ It's not much of an answer, he knows, and so Jack stares back down into his glass and chews at his lip, rethinking it. ]

There wasn't any point to it. Waste of my time and his life. Probably sounds cold, but me and him knew what we were getting into with that lifestyle - you ever see a gangbanger with a 401K?

[ A beat. ]

I just thought I was the only one at risk. Least I didn't follow him home and kill his whole family or something.

[It's an answer that's telling, regardless.]

You don't have to justify it to me. I'm only asking in order to delineate your current self from the one you remember. What good will my judgments do for you now, after all? I won't patronize you in that way, and you don't need a lecture.

[He can't relate, but he can try to understand. Just... don't murder anyone else, all right, Jack? Ardyn is nicely slotting that into the "unmentionables" category, just for you.]

For example, I have a feeling the "you" that enjoyed killing would have answered me quite differently. I still have questions about your memory, if you're still willing to talk about it more.

Nah, that me would've said something like if you cross a guy, don't be surprised when he comes back around and kills the crap out of you.

[ And here's another shrug, pushing his glass aside to give Ardyn his full attention. ]

And yeah, sure. Shoot.

[He gesture of his hand as he asks.]

Well, firstly, who was the woman? Do you know?

No idea. I remember saying her name, but I can't remember what it was. [ And he sounds genuinely frustrated by this, staring into space as he tries to picture the scene again. ] But I was - she was important. To me. It feels like that was a pretty big deal.

[ It's hard to explain, he's having visible trouble getting the right words together - Jack waves a hand aimlessly, as if it's going to help. ]

But I loved her. I think. She was damn sexy, I know that, but it wasn't just that. I trusted her. I dunno, I... [ A pause. ] She made me really happy.

[An admittance of love is a heavy thing. Ardyn pauses in turn.]

You loved her, and she seemed to share your inclinations for murder. A match made in heaven. [An observation, really, nothing snide in his remark.] A spouse maybe?

Maybe - I know we were some kinda thing, because I remember thinking about how hard we were gonna fuck when we were done blowing people's brains outta their noses. Like, right there. On the ground. With all the dead people.

[ Yyyyyyes this is sounding progressively crazier and crazier. ]

I think I did. I loved her. [ He chews his lip again. ] And whoever the hell I was, I didn't give two shits about anybody else. We were the only people on Earth that mattered.

[Well, that's a thing.]

As... romantic as that sounds, it also reeks of something unhealthy. Not your happiness, per se, but the sociopathy and narcissism. Love certainly isn't exclusive to any of these things.

[Up comes a hand to rub at the stubble on his chin.]

This life of yours continues to become more and more interesting, but even you have to admit it's a little disconcerting in more than one way.

A little? Jeez, I feel like frickin' Leatherface in another life. It's more than a little.

[ Feels like being exposed to admit that, to acknowledge that there's something wrong with who he might have been at some point, and Jack scratches at his neck, glancing at anything else. Namely, one of his cats. It's giving them dead eyes from Jack's ridiculous cat tree castle in the corner. ]

I get where he was coming from. They were bad people. I mean, a guy rushing you with a really pointy stick yelling about meat popsicles ain't exactly someone to bring home to mom. And the ones on the train... they were even worse. I don't know why, but they were. I didn't even just want them dead - I thought they were disgusting. Less than human. Kinda like when you see a really gross bug and you just want it dead for being so damn ugly.

I just... I dunno. If you gave me a gun and put me in that same situation, I wouldn't be able to do it. I just don't know how long that's going to last.

[Jack may be looking at the extravagant cat tree and the feline inside of it, but Ardyn is watching his friend's face very closely. He's right, it's more than a little -- but it isn't very tactful of Ardyn to say well, you sure did sound batshit crazy, Jack. Tact might not always be a priority of his, but in this instance, he's not here to make the man doubt himself even more.

For once, Ardyn sounds completely serious.]

Are they affecting you that much? Do you actually feel any different than before all of this Retrospec nonsense?

Yeah. [ Jack raps his fingertips on the counter, expression... not pained, exactly, but colored with the faintest tinge of helplessness. Tight in the mouth, eyes low. ] The other day, I tried to choke out Tony Carter because he threatened to call my grandma. I didn't even think about it. I just did it. I wanted him to be afraid of me. I'm not like that, you know I'm not like that.

I'm not like that. But sometimes it feels like I'm not just me anymore.

[ There's a breaking point, and Jack slams his hand onto the counter and turns, heading back to his liquor cabinet. ]

It's bullshit. This is all bullshit.

[Jack's outburst is nearly enough to startle him, but the only thing that betrays this is the way a hand curls into a fist, nails pressing into skin. He stops leaning against the counter, straightening to his full height, watching the back of Jack's head as he moves to the cabinet.

He's frowning now. He can't pretend that this isn't as alarming as it is, not anymore. It was obviously enough bother Jack, more than he was initially letting on. It's worrisome, not only for his sake, but for the sake of everyone else experiencing these unwanted memories.

But what does one say in this situation? What does one do? There it is again, that feeling of uselessness that he hates so much, blossoming in his chest. He wants to help, but he has no power to. Retrospec pulls their strings from afar, tugging and twisting at their individuality. At their sense of self.

So, what then? He'll offer moral support? How pathetically laughable.]

...No, you're not like that. I do know you. You're not cruel for the sake of being cruel.

[A beat.] Is there anything I can do for you? [In the end, it's all he can offer.]

...Yeah, I'm not.

[ He sounds genuinely relieved to hear it, kneeled in front of the cabinet, and seems to lose interest in it entirely. He'd rather press his forehead to the cool wood instead, with a loud, ungentle thud. ]

Yeah. [ And he's moving again, quicker, turning to push himself to his feet and stroll back. There's a mild energy to his movements that wasn't there before, voice louder like he's trying to convince either Ardyn or himself that everything is fine. ] Let's go somewhere. Let's do something. Doesn't have to be drinking. Hell, we can go scarf shopping for all I care, let's just do something.

[If even a modicum of relief is all he can offer with his words, then he'll latch onto it -- in fact, Ardyn extends his hands outward, a grandiose gesture as Jack moves closer to him, as if to say, "Well, of course."]

Scarf shopping? [It may be a joke and it sounds inane. And yet, because of that, it's perfect for this situation. Something ridiculous to help get Jack's mind off of it. His expression changes to match, turning into something almost tongue-in-cheek.]

Now there's a suggestion. I'm sure I could find at least five patterns that would suit you. And you'd be obligated to purchase at least one of them.

[Yes, he will literally take you scarf shopping, Jack.]

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