[Sleeping is one thing. He sleeps, yes, although maybe not as peacefully as he would like. More and more, he hears the Fourth God's voice in his dreams, asking him for tribute - and he's not sure what to make of it. His dreams of the arcade, on the other hand, are more comforting.
As for eating...
He certainly has been, but isn't that part of the problem? The ease with which drowning comes to him by now? The way the routine of luring some poor human into his arms and pulling them into the depths feels so natural?
It terrifies him. He knows the fog god has done something to his mind, and it terrifies him, and the only thing that brings him peace is knowing that the Fourth God is with him.]
Alright, that's something, at least. [Jason smooths the side of his hair, sighing, eyes beady and tightened on Marco.
He lets out a long breath through his teeth, not believing Marco, not really. But then again, Quentin finished his semester at school before he killed himself, didn't he? Even cleaned his laundry the afternoon before he drowned himself, as if the river was just another appointment in a mundane day.]
Look, just- it's not like I care, but if you start getting any delusions or anything or any impulses to do something, I mean- just don't, alright? I don't want that sitting on my conscience. I've done well enough keeping things off it up until now. I don't want it getting saddled down because you've been sucking at the Fourth God's teat.
First of all-- [He finally shoves the cup of coffee aside in a more explicit gesture of refusal, then sticks his finger in the air -] The Fourth God is a man.
Good! [Jason sits forward, reaching aside to make sure the coffee doesn't tip off the edge of the table.] Finally, some life in your eyes. Been long enough since you haven't been looking like you took some patent medicine and a nightcap to help it. Like a dead man, I says.
No, that'd be a sucker's game. [Jason waves a hand.] I'm just saying, it seems these days the only way you don't look like a corpse is when you're getting riled up for the Fourth God. You didn't have that much life in you when you were taking mine, even.
[He gets up and finishes off his coffee.]
Just don't hurt yourself, alright? I don't care, but I'd rather you didn't. It gives me the chills just to look at you these days.
[Marco still isn't sure how to take either Jason's concerns or the fact that he's concerned. On one hand, the man may have a point; on the other hand, Marco doesn't like the way he puts it; on the other other hand, why does he even care?
It would be simpler if things were more black-and-white than they are in this case.]
To me, it looks like you do care, whether you'd like to admit it or not.
[Jason takes Marco's cup of coffee. If Marco won't have it Jason may as well get the table bused.] Eugh. We aren't all queers here, Evangelisti. Don't flatter yourself.
[He heads back to the registers and machines, ready to take his shift back up again, and calls over his shoulder-] Or lie to yourself, for that matter!
[How nice of Jason to give Marco a reminder of why he doesn't like him at all. The word, he might be willing to excuse if it came from somebody else from Jason's time period, but he's not too inclined to take advice from someone who thinks feelings aren't for straight guys.]
Have a nice day.
[After saying that in the driest way he possibly can, he leaves.]
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[Sleeping is one thing. He sleeps, yes, although maybe not as peacefully as he would like. More and more, he hears the Fourth God's voice in his dreams, asking him for tribute - and he's not sure what to make of it. His dreams of the arcade, on the other hand, are more comforting.
As for eating...
He certainly has been, but isn't that part of the problem? The ease with which drowning comes to him by now? The way the routine of luring some poor human into his arms and pulling them into the depths feels so natural?
It terrifies him. He knows the fog god has done something to his mind, and it terrifies him, and the only thing that brings him peace is knowing that the Fourth God is with him.]
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He lets out a long breath through his teeth, not believing Marco, not really. But then again, Quentin finished his semester at school before he killed himself, didn't he? Even cleaned his laundry the afternoon before he drowned himself, as if the river was just another appointment in a mundane day.]
Look, just- it's not like I care, but if you start getting any delusions or anything or any impulses to do something, I mean- just don't, alright? I don't want that sitting on my conscience. I've done well enough keeping things off it up until now. I don't want it getting saddled down because you've been sucking at the Fourth God's teat.
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You have... [He shakes his head.] You have no idea what you're talking about. At all. The Fourth God has been helping me.
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That so? And how's she been doing that? What've you been getting for all your proselytizing?
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The Stare is that look on Marco's face whenever Jason says something horrifically offensive.]
What, are you trying to provoke me now?
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[He gets up and finishes off his coffee.]
Just don't hurt yourself, alright? I don't care, but I'd rather you didn't. It gives me the chills just to look at you these days.
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It would be simpler if things were more black-and-white than they are in this case.]
To me, it looks like you do care, whether you'd like to admit it or not.
[He stands up, sighing.]
So thank you, I guess. But I'm fine.
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[He heads back to the registers and machines, ready to take his shift back up again, and calls over his shoulder-] Or lie to yourself, for that matter!
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Have a nice day.
[After saying that in the driest way he possibly can, he leaves.]