Just Muse Me: Picture Prompt (Prison)
"You look like shit."
Pam was speaking into a phone connected to a barrier between her and the man she had never expected to see again. Between them was a panel of wire and glass, bordered on either side by two panels of plastic. She had seen this kind of thing in movies, but always figured her odds of actually encountering one were slim.
"Thanks," Jesse said ruefully. "You look good."
She hadn't expected that, either. "Thanks."
Together they redefined the awkward silence. He had told her yet why he called her down here, or even why he was in prison. She didn't want to ask, either. At least not that second part. If he had wanted her to bail him out, he would've asked a long time ago. Probably when he had first been convicted. Arrested. Whichever.
"So, not that I don't appreciate the reunion," she started. Then, when she had managed to get her words in order again, "or the tour of the prison system, or the invitation to catch up on what we've been doing with our lives..."
He winced. She should have apologized, but she wasn't sure what she would be apologizing for. For all she knew it might have been a perfectly well-deserved insult.
"I would've called you sooner, but, well."
"That's okay," she said, fiddling with her phone cord. "I probably wouldn't have been home to you anyway."
That stopped the conversation for a moment, but whatever had induced him to call her there kept him going. "So, how are you doing?"
She couldn't tell if it was small talk or something else. In the end, she decided to go with being nice. "I'm okay," she nodded slowly. "I've been better, but I'm getting by. With a little help from my friends."
"Good." He said it slow, like that meant something. Like there was something that told him that she didn't quite pick up on. "That's good."
"What you mean, that's good?"
"I mean, that's good. Getting by is still good." But he was fidgeting with his phone cord, too, now. There was something that he was looking for, something she had told him inadvertently that made things awkward for him, and she had the abrupt feeling that she needed to know what that was.
Pamela leaned in closer. Jesse had never been a bad guy, not really, but he had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. "Jesse, what did you do?"
"Pam, honey," his hand closed around the phone cord and squeezed it until his knuckles were white. "Maybe you should get out of town for a while. Go stay with your friend up in Buffalo, maybe go to that monk retreat in Tibet you were always talking about."
"I'm not leaving town, Jesse," she told him. "Now what is this about?"
"There were these guys, guys in coats, suits, the whole thing. I thought they were FBI or something, DEA, ATF, something like that. I thought they were trying to get me to turn on one of the guys in the club, we all knew he was dealing something out of his garage, but nobody really knew what. But, man, they had this thing, they would just come and go and nobody saw them, they kept talking like they were ultra-Christian..."
Pam would have had to sit down if she hadn't been sitting already. This was bad. This was... she didn't even know what this was. What the hell was this?
"What did they want you to do?"
"They wanted me to make you step back. To make you leave things alone, that's all they said, I swear." He held up his hands, well, one hand, and the other one came up with the handcuffs. It looked awkward. "I don't know what they wanted me to make you step back from, but they were some scary mother..."
"I know who they are," she interrupted, rubbing her temples with one hand. "Thanks, Jesse."
"Hey, I told them, there wasn't anything in the world could make you do something you didn't want to do, or stop doing something you wanted to."
She even cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, well, you would know, wouldn't you?"
He would. They both knew it. Neither of them wanted to talk about it. "Can I ask you something, though?"
"Sure." It couldn't hurt.
"What is this all about?"
Pamela took a deep breath, let it out again slowly. "It's..." She didn't want to explain it to him. Not the whole magic, Angels and Demons, psychic powers thing. "It's this new guy I've been seeing, he's mixed up with some heavy stuff. Not bad stuff, not exactly, but heavy stuff. And some of his coworkers, they're not exactly who he thought they were. There's been some trouble."
Jesse shook his head, pulling a face. "Jesus, Pam, you sure like to live life complicated."
"Yeah," she snorted, "don't I know it."
He looked over at her. It made her sad, the way he looked at her, like he used to. "Is he nice? This new guy, I mean. He treat you right?"
"Yeah, he does."
"Good." Jesse nodded. "Good, I'm glad."
Pam smiled, the kind of soft and somehow still bright smile she got whenever she thought of him, and also a kind of rueful smile at thinking of what Jesse and Castiel would make of each other. Probably nothing good. Or possibly just something awkward.
"You look happy," Jesse said.
"I am," she told him. At least, she was, as much she could be given the circumstances.
"Good."
Pam was speaking into a phone connected to a barrier between her and the man she had never expected to see again. Between them was a panel of wire and glass, bordered on either side by two panels of plastic. She had seen this kind of thing in movies, but always figured her odds of actually encountering one were slim.
"Thanks," Jesse said ruefully. "You look good."
She hadn't expected that, either. "Thanks."
Together they redefined the awkward silence. He had told her yet why he called her down here, or even why he was in prison. She didn't want to ask, either. At least not that second part. If he had wanted her to bail him out, he would've asked a long time ago. Probably when he had first been convicted. Arrested. Whichever.
"So, not that I don't appreciate the reunion," she started. Then, when she had managed to get her words in order again, "or the tour of the prison system, or the invitation to catch up on what we've been doing with our lives..."
He winced. She should have apologized, but she wasn't sure what she would be apologizing for. For all she knew it might have been a perfectly well-deserved insult.
"I would've called you sooner, but, well."
"That's okay," she said, fiddling with her phone cord. "I probably wouldn't have been home to you anyway."
That stopped the conversation for a moment, but whatever had induced him to call her there kept him going. "So, how are you doing?"
She couldn't tell if it was small talk or something else. In the end, she decided to go with being nice. "I'm okay," she nodded slowly. "I've been better, but I'm getting by. With a little help from my friends."
"Good." He said it slow, like that meant something. Like there was something that told him that she didn't quite pick up on. "That's good."
"What you mean, that's good?"
"I mean, that's good. Getting by is still good." But he was fidgeting with his phone cord, too, now. There was something that he was looking for, something she had told him inadvertently that made things awkward for him, and she had the abrupt feeling that she needed to know what that was.
Pamela leaned in closer. Jesse had never been a bad guy, not really, but he had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. "Jesse, what did you do?"
"Pam, honey," his hand closed around the phone cord and squeezed it until his knuckles were white. "Maybe you should get out of town for a while. Go stay with your friend up in Buffalo, maybe go to that monk retreat in Tibet you were always talking about."
"I'm not leaving town, Jesse," she told him. "Now what is this about?"
"There were these guys, guys in coats, suits, the whole thing. I thought they were FBI or something, DEA, ATF, something like that. I thought they were trying to get me to turn on one of the guys in the club, we all knew he was dealing something out of his garage, but nobody really knew what. But, man, they had this thing, they would just come and go and nobody saw them, they kept talking like they were ultra-Christian..."
Pam would have had to sit down if she hadn't been sitting already. This was bad. This was... she didn't even know what this was. What the hell was this?
"What did they want you to do?"
"They wanted me to make you step back. To make you leave things alone, that's all they said, I swear." He held up his hands, well, one hand, and the other one came up with the handcuffs. It looked awkward. "I don't know what they wanted me to make you step back from, but they were some scary mother..."
"I know who they are," she interrupted, rubbing her temples with one hand. "Thanks, Jesse."
"Hey, I told them, there wasn't anything in the world could make you do something you didn't want to do, or stop doing something you wanted to."
She even cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, well, you would know, wouldn't you?"
He would. They both knew it. Neither of them wanted to talk about it. "Can I ask you something, though?"
"Sure." It couldn't hurt.
"What is this all about?"
Pamela took a deep breath, let it out again slowly. "It's..." She didn't want to explain it to him. Not the whole magic, Angels and Demons, psychic powers thing. "It's this new guy I've been seeing, he's mixed up with some heavy stuff. Not bad stuff, not exactly, but heavy stuff. And some of his coworkers, they're not exactly who he thought they were. There's been some trouble."
Jesse shook his head, pulling a face. "Jesus, Pam, you sure like to live life complicated."
"Yeah," she snorted, "don't I know it."
He looked over at her. It made her sad, the way he looked at her, like he used to. "Is he nice? This new guy, I mean. He treat you right?"
"Yeah, he does."
"Good." Jesse nodded. "Good, I'm glad."
Pam smiled, the kind of soft and somehow still bright smile she got whenever she thought of him, and also a kind of rueful smile at thinking of what Jesse and Castiel would make of each other. Probably nothing good. Or possibly just something awkward.
"You look happy," Jesse said.
"I am," she told him. At least, she was, as much she could be given the circumstances.
"Good."