Not sure how to answer that at the moment. Most of my needs have been met. I tend to be a simple Fellow. But I'll let you know if something comes up. I've been going to my work shifts, if that's of concern. Don't know what else I need to be doing to stay in the Admiral's good graces.
Sure enough, he's there when Luke arrives. Not that he'd been texting from there or anything. He's plopped on the grass, patches of tall blades spattered through the softer short carpet, along with a couple breeds of Irish wildflowers. Sitting with his knees up, his arms rest over them while he smokes.
Luke smiles and gives a little wave when he spots him, and drops down on the grass near him. He likes Sweeney fine, even if there's an abrasiveness to the man that Luke thinks comes from ... acclimation to indifference, or something.
"Thanks for meeting," he says. "I know the whole warden/inmate thing isn't everyone's idea of a good time."
Sweeney shrugs and taps his ash. "That's the deal, right?" He takes a slow drag as he briefly studies the man. It seems a good idea to take better measure of him now that he's sober. Well, mostly.
"Go ta work, talk ta Wardens fer three squares an' a place ta sleep that ain't in Hell?" He's rather nonchalant about it; it's not that bad, and he knows it could be so much worse.
Luke watches him right back in his turn. He knows he's being studied. It doesn't bother him. He's used to people trying to take his measure--either because he's an unknown and a small, unassuming, young-looking man or because he's supposed to be this big hero Jedi and they expect... well, something other than a small, unassuming, young-looking man. He gives off the air of one who is not bothered by the scrutiny, but isn't looking for it, either. He just takes what comes. But he's ready for anything.
"It can be," he says slowly. "Part of this whole thing is that it's an individual program. Some wardens have much stricter rules--some temps don't even hardly check in. If I contact an inmate and he tells me to leave him alone, honestly? I do. This isn't about filling out a form or a checklist, Sweeney."
He pulls a leg up, draping an arm around his knee.
"But if you really are interested in figuring out how to get out of here, I'm happy to talk it over with you. See what we might come up with."
"Fuck." He takes a drag and releases it slowly. "Ain't got anythin' ta go back to," Sweeney answers with casual honesty. He's learned the hard way that he should be realistic about his situation. It doesn't really bother him.
"My understandin' is that if ya do what yer s'pposed ta, ya got better odds of gettin' ta stay." He pulls another drag. "I'm not lookin' ta get bumped off into nothin' or where'er."
Luke thinks about that for a long moment. His instinct is to wonder that anyone's home could be that bad, but he knows it's true, for some. He shakes his head, after a moment.
"Those aren't your only options, either," he says. "I've heard of inmates who've gone to live in other peoples' universes. It doesn't have to be one thing."
"Eh--" Sweeney knows this, somewhere in the back of his mind. Which probably means he'll eventually forget it if he stays here long enough, but he hasn't yet. However, he still can't think of a place where he wouldn't be starving or unhappy. He doesn't know other universes enough to set his mind on going there. He hasn't found another yet that has fairies that haven't all been murdered by humans.
"Maybe. But I don't know what that'd be. An' I doubt the Admiral's gonna just make me a world ta get me off this boat.
"Maybe that's not the right way to think about it," Luke says. "Or what I mean is, maybe that's not the practical way to think about it. It's more that, people who are open to those other options sometimes find them. You'll meet someone here, visit their world with them, and decide it's what you need.
"But before any of that can happen, yeah. You have to figure out why you're here."
He's not going to demand Sweeney's answer, though he'll hear it if the man's got one. He just wants to offer any advice he can.
He chuckles at the idea of luck presenting him with an opportunity. Sweeney laments that it's his job--his right--to grant that sort of situation for others. If only he had his fucking Lucky Coin. Of course, if he did, odds are good he wouldn't have ended up here at all and Grimnir would be dead. Fucking Shadow Moon.
"S'spect it's 'cause I'm a right cunt that ended up on the wrong side of a magic spear." The topic is nonchalant given how readily he'd come to terms with it upon arriving.
Sweeney doubts that they all die, especially in a meaningful way that doesn't end with them waking up in the infirmary with little more than a headache. Otherwise, it just seems like folk sit around and don't age.
"No. No I did not." That's a fucking understatement, and he's confident it's what put him here in the first place. He speaks about it with casual indifference.
"Done fucked up shit, some 'cause I had to. Some 'cause shit happens." Mostly the former, but there were definitely a few huge sins of his own making.
Luke had meant, you know, at home. Under normal circumstances. He's pretty sure most of them will die.
Well, maybe not Bill, but Bill is not his issue right now.
"But that's why you're here," he says. "Because maybe you didn't, but you can. And now you've got a chance. If you want it. And it kinda sounds like you do."
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Can we meet up? Again, this is voluntary. I'm not reporting back on how you react or anything.
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Sure enough, he's there when Luke arrives. Not that he'd been texting from there or anything. He's plopped on the grass, patches of tall blades spattered through the softer short carpet, along with a couple breeds of Irish wildflowers. Sitting with his knees up, his arms rest over them while he smokes.
Action
"Thanks for meeting," he says. "I know the whole warden/inmate thing isn't everyone's idea of a good time."
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"Go ta work, talk ta Wardens fer three squares an' a place ta sleep that ain't in Hell?" He's rather nonchalant about it; it's not that bad, and he knows it could be so much worse.
Action
"It can be," he says slowly. "Part of this whole thing is that it's an individual program. Some wardens have much stricter rules--some temps don't even hardly check in. If I contact an inmate and he tells me to leave him alone, honestly? I do. This isn't about filling out a form or a checklist, Sweeney."
He pulls a leg up, draping an arm around his knee.
"But if you really are interested in figuring out how to get out of here, I'm happy to talk it over with you. See what we might come up with."
Re: Action
"My understandin' is that if ya do what yer s'pposed ta, ya got better odds of gettin' ta stay." He pulls another drag. "I'm not lookin' ta get bumped off into nothin' or where'er."
Action
"Those aren't your only options, either," he says. "I've heard of inmates who've gone to live in other peoples' universes. It doesn't have to be one thing."
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"Maybe. But I don't know what that'd be. An' I doubt the Admiral's gonna just make me a world ta get me off this boat.
Action
"But before any of that can happen, yeah. You have to figure out why you're here."
He's not going to demand Sweeney's answer, though he'll hear it if the man's got one. He just wants to offer any advice he can.
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"S'spect it's 'cause I'm a right cunt that ended up on the wrong side of a magic spear." The topic is nonchalant given how readily he'd come to terms with it upon arriving.
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"We all die," he offers softly. "The question for us here is... did we live the best life we could before that happened."
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"No. No I did not." That's a fucking understatement, and he's confident it's what put him here in the first place. He speaks about it with casual indifference.
"Done fucked up shit, some 'cause I had to. Some 'cause shit happens." Mostly the former, but there were definitely a few huge sins of his own making.
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Well, maybe not Bill, but Bill is not his issue right now.
"But that's why you're here," he says. "Because maybe you didn't, but you can. And now you've got a chance. If you want it. And it kinda sounds like you do."