On his end, Mick is shaking too bad to work the tablet. So instead, in what he imagines is a fit of shock-induced brilliance, switches to audio mode.
"He fell- He, he just, got so mad and he stomped his foot and the ground cracked and--" He shakes his head, sitting now on the same carved bench as before. "I tricked him. I got him, killed and it wasn't a dream."
At first, Gwen's pretty confused. Stomped his foot and cracked the--
Oh. Fairy tale land. Now caught up to speed, Gwen fumbles with a response, all the while thinking that 'Yeesh, Mickey's got it rough.'
"Wow," she starts, fantastically unhelpful. She knows people have died here, but...'wow' still pretty much covers it. "You--you know this wasn't your fault, right, big guy? I mean, he might as well have tricked me into pouring acid on my face, and you almost ate me. We weren't ourselves. You weren't yourself."
Once, she would've been too busy moping over her own humiliation accompanying a glitch. But here, she found herself struggling to comfort Mick, and wanting nothing but to make the big lug feel better and stop punishing himself, for once.
On his end, Mick gives a startled, mirthless laugh. It isn't his fault, technically speaking. There's so much you can say in his defense, but at the end of the day he will still feel responsible. So he wasn't himself, fair enough, but he did a lot of bad things and not just to Glitch. It doesn't matter if his intentions weren't to kill him, that it 'just happened' or that it was 'an accident, just an accident'. Good intentions don't make you less guilty just like not knowing the law makes you less culpable if you commit a crime.
"He's still dead. Gwen, I... That doesn't change anything. I remember tricking him as clearly as if I did it myself. It was my voice, my brain figuring him out, me."
He swallows tightly, pulling his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. "I didn't feel out of control. I just felt different."
The laugh isn't exactly a good sign, and Gwen can't help but wonder if Mick's about to seal himself away from the world in that ice box. She definitely doesn't want a repeat of that little scene.
And, well, Glitch wouldn't be there to lure him out.
She feels sad but distant. She never really knew Glitch. She considered getting close to him in hopes of him inventing a way to fix her (and isn't that irony just cute?), but they weren't close. But it's affecting (Mick) everyone else, so she might as well do something.
"Okay. I get it. But you have to admit it wasn't totally you behind the wheel. And--" A thought occurs to her, something that jackass cop told her. She continues with a little more rushed excitement.
"He can come back, can't he? I thought even when you die, the aliens drag you back here?"
Gwen may be the kind of woman who doesn't speak at length, but when she does, man does she sometimes say just the right thing.
Out of all the reassurances, there's one thing that stands out, like a pop up spread in a children's book.
"He can?" That means there's still hope, and he jumps off his perch on the wooden bench with renewed determination. If this can be fixed, the God help him, he'll make sure it happens. "They can do that? How? Is there a process or something, is there anything I can do?"
Gwen frantically tries to recall what Smecker told her. But boy, does she hope she's right. The sudden hopping off the sulking train wouldn't be worth the pain he'd be in if he hit the ground.
"I--I think so. The cop gave me the rundown of this place, once. Pretty sure a Get Out of Death Free card was somewhere in there." She shrugs, feeling more helpless than she would like, and wonders where he is and really hopes he doesn't do anything stupid. She knows what it's like to stew over something so much you go crazy over it, and you start making plans that will probably screw you over in the long run. But she can't find the words to tell him this, so she starts off slowly and awkwardly. "Hey, handsome, do you want to...I mean, if you need anything..."
Yeah, that's a sentence. Who is she, Party Boy all of a sudden?
Should Gwen check her map, she'll find Mick's dot smack dab in the middle of the hedge maze - even if he knew how to disguise his location, he wouldn't. Certainly not right now. Hiding would imply guilt - always does, just like running, and he doesn't need to do either to feel it burn in his chest.
"There's two cops here, right? Was it the FBI agent or the other one?"
A beat, then he shakes his head at himself. Way to get too focused on the solution - if there is one. Gwen's the first one to listen, to really listen, and that means more than he can say.
But he can at least try. He says, softer now, "Yeah. Thanks. I'll, uh-- I'll let you know, okay?"
Reply
"He fell- He, he just, got so mad and he stomped his foot and the ground cracked and--" He shakes his head, sitting now on the same carved bench as before. "I tricked him. I got him, killed and it wasn't a dream."
Reply
Oh. Fairy tale land. Now caught up to speed, Gwen fumbles with a response, all the while thinking that 'Yeesh, Mickey's got it rough.'
"Wow," she starts, fantastically unhelpful. She knows people have died here, but...'wow' still pretty much covers it. "You--you know this wasn't your fault, right, big guy? I mean, he might as well have tricked me into pouring acid on my face, and you almost ate me. We weren't ourselves. You weren't yourself."
Once, she would've been too busy moping over her own humiliation accompanying a glitch. But here, she found herself struggling to comfort Mick, and wanting nothing but to make the big lug feel better and stop punishing himself, for once.
Reply
"He's still dead. Gwen, I... That doesn't change anything. I remember tricking him as clearly as if I did it myself. It was my voice, my brain figuring him out, me."
He swallows tightly, pulling his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. "I didn't feel out of control. I just felt different."
Reply
And, well, Glitch wouldn't be there to lure him out.
She feels sad but distant. She never really knew Glitch. She considered getting close to him in hopes of him inventing a way to fix her (and isn't that irony just cute?), but they weren't close. But it's affecting (Mick) everyone else, so she might as well do something.
"Okay. I get it. But you have to admit it wasn't totally you behind the wheel. And--" A thought occurs to her, something that jackass cop told her. She continues with a little more rushed excitement.
"He can come back, can't he? I thought even when you die, the aliens drag you back here?"
Reply
Out of all the reassurances, there's one thing that stands out, like a pop up spread in a children's book.
"He can?" That means there's still hope, and he jumps off his perch on the wooden bench with renewed determination. If this can be fixed, the God help him, he'll make sure it happens. "They can do that? How? Is there a process or something, is there anything I can do?"
Reply
"I--I think so. The cop gave me the rundown of this place, once. Pretty sure a Get Out of Death Free card was somewhere in there." She shrugs, feeling more helpless than she would like, and wonders where he is and really hopes he doesn't do anything stupid. She knows what it's like to stew over something so much you go crazy over it, and you start making plans that will probably screw you over in the long run. But she can't find the words to tell him this, so she starts off slowly and awkwardly. "Hey, handsome, do you want to...I mean, if you need anything..."
Yeah, that's a sentence. Who is she, Party Boy all of a sudden?
Reply
"There's two cops here, right? Was it the FBI agent or the other one?"
A beat, then he shakes his head at himself. Way to get too focused on the solution - if there is one. Gwen's the first one to listen, to really listen, and that means more than he can say.
But he can at least try. He says, softer now, "Yeah. Thanks. I'll, uh-- I'll let you know, okay?"
Reply
She waits for his response, inwardly kicking herself for not being smooth enough when she needs to be smooth.
"You better. Get some rest, alright?"
Reply
Just goes to show common sense doesn't come with age if he can't think of that himself. Rest. Yeah, maybe he does need it.
"I'll talk to him. Dick or not, he's been helpful in the past. ...thanks, Gwen. I really mean that."
Reply
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