Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ And then this happened and Philip was back in his body. Just like that. Just... like that.

Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--

And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody

Comments

[blimeyjamwalls]

"Oh. Ah. I..."

...never actually contacted Philip in the flesh at least because while he's consciously forgiven him for that one stabby Clarence escapade, some of him - more of him than he'd been aware of, when it comes to that particular pinch - remembers the incident quite clearly and remembers why this is his second death and wouldn't let him pick up the communicator.

Daniel looks at the floor, suddenly ashamed of that fact, and suddenly aware of the fact that he didn't scrub up properly before coming down here damn damn damn. (He could look Philip in the eye before because... well, that was just a hallucination. He's spent the days since drinking it away and reminding himself that it was just a hallucination.)

"I'm sorry." And he is, because yeah, vanishing for days after the murder event was probably not the best idea (even though he had an IMPECCABLE EXCUSE) and Philip's slightly weird laugh is just a sign of that fact.

"I couldn't... I didn't feel quite capable of meeting with people."

Usually he's one to talk up his scars and show off, but... not when it comes to this.

[sadfreezingbrit]

"If you killed somebody..."

Wow. That segue sounded a lot more subtle in his mind. Philip clears his throat.

"During the event, that- that wasn't your fault."

Then again, it just about matches the subtle glance of scrutiny he's giving Daniel now.

[blimeyjamwalls]

Keysmashwhat?!

Oh. Oh. During the event. Oh.

He looks at Philip, kind of hollowly.

"No." Wait, that probably needs qualifying. "No, I... I was killed."

By a friend again. In one of the most painful and horrifying ways he can imagine. Cue haunted look.

(He's not yet with it enough to catch on to the look of scrutiny. It's possible Philip is not so deep in whiskey that he couldn't catch on to the very brief look of sjaljsdaksak;akda.)

[sadfreezingbrit]

Philip is presently deep in soup. And he can stand a lot of whiskey. The sjaljsdaksak;akda registers, because it was exactly what he was looking for.

...And he almost hates to admit it, because he finds himself torn again, between his curiosity and the silence that would be so much better for everyone involved.

"I'm sorry."

Philip sits down again (read: sacks into his chair limply) and looks up at Daniel, silently hoping he will join him at the table, but making no explicit motion to indicate the wish.

"I, um... me too."

[blimeyjamwalls]

Oh God, that part of his vision holds true. And yet Philip looks... well, actually surprisingly healthy. Healthier than usual, even, unless Daniel's perspective is skewed by his expectations. That's a relief. That's a very big relief.

Still, looks might be deceiving.

"...How are you faring?"

Daniel does, indeed, approach the table and sit down with an exhausted kind of slouch. He spares an ill kind of look for the soup, though.

[sadfreezingbrit]

Philip notices the soup-related look with all the determined consideration of somebody who desperately wants to focus on anything but the question and issue at hand.

"...Should I put that away?"