one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]
[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day
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What he did think about was how to face Dean again.
He was hoping he could be the one to make the first move, but he was also hoping for a point further ahead in time that would give him a chance at recovering sufficiently to smile out of conviction rather than the fact that he's practically chugged a whole pharmacy of painkillers.
As for his reaction, he--
He immediately scolds himself for flinching at Dean's voice. ]
{ Hurry, monkey, get outta here! He's gonna finish the job! }
[Well. That's one week worth of nightmares for you.
As for his reaction, if necessary he is determined and ready to show Dean the same amount of obnoxiously persistent forgiveness his friend once offered him. ]
Don't worry, I- I've got this.
[ Scooping up the glass precariously Philip stands and turns to face Dean. That expression, full-blown ( ... )
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Now he thinks back deliberately and cringes as he suddenly realises just why he couldn't help but think that despite his complete lack of Egyptian expertise he'd heard the name Imhotep before.
But then he thinks back to something else, something he does remember very clearly. It doesn't exactly reach into the cold pit of his stomach, but superficially it's more than enough to put his mind at ease. ]
Lucky for her she's not Zita Johann then.
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[Dean contributes sagely, reaching across the counter for another piece of bacon. Taking a bite and using the piece of pork for gestural emphasis, he barrels on.]
Maybe it was a popular story back then. "Love for the ages" and all that.
[Because Hell, no one really cares about Egypt now unless it involves finding more gold in the Valley of the Whatever.
He mulls over the familiar tale, wondering how much could be non-fiction. Curses are legitimate, and supernatural stuff has been going on for a long, long time.]
Maybe the Egyptians were onto somethin' with all that afterlife mumbo-jumbo. [A shrug.] Pagan gods are real, so zombie high priests could be, right?
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[ It's not actually a question. Philip is fairly sure that Zita Evelyn Johann gets a lead female free pass to safety. ]
In any case, I'd rather they weren't.
[ He pokes his last piece of egg with little intention of ingesting it anytime soon. ]
I miss talking to people who lead normal, zombie-free lives.
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Classic deus ex machina.
Literally.]
Glad someone can scratch that itch for you.
[Dean pushes his empty plate to the side, raising an eyebrow at Philip. In all honesty, he actually is happy that the guy has been talking to a civvie. The more people who don't have to live their lives, the better.]
She take the Wonderland news well?
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I- I didn't mean-- I mean, you- it's just that I, what I was trying to-- Because you know--
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She... she did, she was-- Fine. All things considered.
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Dude, chill.
[The crooked smile is forgiving, and he takes another sip of coffee.]
You're preachin' to the choir, now. I used to, uh... [Dean laughs.] Used to try and get one normal conversation a week, with a random stranger. Didn't matter who, it was just nice, y'know?
[Looking down into his mug, he purses his lips. It feels great to be a regular person sometimes. Keeps you grounded. Keeps you sane. Maybe even hopeful. People are resilient as Hell.]
Seriously, it's good. I mean, I get it. God knows there are people out there who don't see half the stuff we do but need the talking just the same.
[He grins into his drink.]
And it helps if they're cute.
[Snicker.]
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If you say so.
[ While Philip stares into his cup pensively the narration will gladly take a moment to explain what he himself hasn't figured out and probably won't grasp anytime soon either:
Philip currently has no intention of making a move on Evelyn or anyone else in Wonderland. Not only that, but he has forced himself into a mindest that doesn't even allow romance as a potential option. The scenario has been locked in a crate and tossed into the dark basement of his mind.
Only Dean's question, the perfectly innocent way he asked, shone a light on it, a sign saying HEY, REMEMBER RELATIONSHIPS? THEY ARE STILL A THING. THEY DID NOT STOP EXISTING.
And that is a sign Philip can't possibly allow himself to follow. Because it means imagining to care- to really care about somebody. And in the same breath it means remembering what Clarence does to people Philip cares about and finally it ends in a gruesome and bloody theory titled 'Things Clarence does to People Philip Really Cares About ( ... )
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But an alien headvoice can't hate everybody, right? It just seems a bit counterproductive.
Still. Relationships are important. Dean used to be the guy that shut himself away. Brilliant how he's transferred his freakish codependency problems to other people here.]
Couple weirdos. Another singing teenager. A talking horse.
[You know, the usual. He really ought to get on the communicator more, but Dean hates first impressions to be of him with one eye. Man, he misses being symmetrical.
Dean wishes he could encounter young women in distress, too, but they're in short supply around here.]
I swear, dude, I'm just waiting for this place to turn into a friggin' High ( ... )
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[ Weirdos and singing teenagers seem a part of Wonderland's natural ecosystem, but the ability to play Dr Dolittle has yet to fall into Philip's hands. ]
Talking horse? As in 'stomps its feet, reacts to your words' sort of talking, like that- [ He cringes a little ] -that crocodile from the tenth floor or... or like '"How do you do?", having an actual conversation' talking?
{ Sounds pretty far-fetched, right? Least now you know how I feel watchin' you monkeys jabbering about all day. }
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[This doesn't seem to bother him as much as it should, but he's been in Wonderland a pretty long time, now, and he's seen almost everything.]
It was...sorta yellow, talked with a country accent. It had an apple stamped on its ass. And it was wearing a cowboy hat.
[Oh, also-]
I wish I was joking, man, but it said it's name was "Applejack." Made me really want that cereal.
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[ Philip forces a laugh and rubs his temple. Talking animals. He knows the sentiment is misplaced, but that revelation still feels a lot like the last straw of sanity burning down to a few grains of ash, despite everything that's happened here before. ]
...Did you ever wonder how-- Did you ever wonder why it's us? Why- why we showed up here and not... other people? Other horses? [ Snerk. ]
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You mean in a cosmic "maybe God thought it would be hilarious" kind-of-way? [Dean shrugs.] I dunno. Interdimensional Hotel California seems more like limbo than anything else, 'cept I know I wasn't dead before I got here.
[Oh, well. The wheel in the sky keeps turning.]
Maybe it's just 'cause we're so awesome. You think it's because we're so awesome?
[Dean Winchester attempts lightening the mood, Take 1.]
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{ Can we please just go talk to the horse instead? }
[ Plate empty. Mug empty. Philip's work here is done. This would be the part where Philip retreats to knock back another dose of painkillers, subsequently spending the rest of the day in bed, lacking the focus to read, watch films or do anything else that could be considered entertainment.
He wants to ask if Dean felt quite as miserable after his involuntary enucleation. And if so he really wants to ask when it's going to stop, but no matter the context, Philip knows better than to bring up the injury voluntarily. ]
...Any plans for later today?
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