Oh, for God's sake. Literally. [He folds his arms, the washcloth dangling over one elbow.] The Fog God's followers are so stupid and disorganized if you gave them a rifle and a target they'd still manage to blow their own brains out. You did Foggy Dearest a favor.
[He pauses for a second, then grins again.]
In fact, the only group more disorganized is the Fourth God's, which would explain why you haven't had much traction lately. Fourth's fault, I reckon, for hiring loonies.
And what'll they do? Drown me? [And then Jason does get serious. He flicks the washcloth almost in time with the way the tip of his barbed tail twitches at the end.]
Look, I don't give a damn about this god war business. But if you're going to insist on ripping up people who follow the Fog God, you're heading for trouble. Even I know better than to hold a person's religion against them.
Yes. [Jason's face takes on a harshness to match Marco's.] I'd hate to see anything happen to you, and that's why I wanted to see you in the flesh and see for myself if you're as crack-brained as everyone's saying.
But since you're here and talking about justified murders, I may as well tell you -- I don't worry myself with what my coworkers believe or what gods they get tied up in, but I don't care if they're delivering homemade Christmas cakes to the Fog God, you don't touch them.
[Marco's expression falters, his gaze slipping down to his hands. After all this time, he still doesn't quite get Jason, or how genuine his concerns might be when everything else about him is so awful.]
... Who's been saying that? That I'm... "crack-brained"?
[Perhaps not the most important thing to get out of what Jason said, but to him, it's a significant concern.]
[Jason buckles down on that marble-carved curtness.]
Why do you want to know? Are you in need of some lives to snuff out at the lake? Do you think they're committing treachery against the Fourth God for stating this piece?
Not until you answer me with what you want to do with that information.
[To make his response all the more obnoxious, Jason leans back and starts to pick at his nails, cleaning them of anything caught in their cat-like hooks.]
[Jason doesn't immediately say anything. He lets the awkward silence of the cafe, the few patrons at this hour stunned briefly and then returning clumsily to their conversations, speak for him.]
[The realisation of what he just did makes Marco's cheeks flush. His gaze shifts from Jason's face to the paling knuckles of his own clenched fists; that's the closest thing to an apology that he feels like conceding.]
Why-- [He stops, clears his throat, makes sure he keeps his voice down.] Why not? Because I'm "crazy"? Is that it?
That's exactly it. If you were in your right head, wouldn't you hesitate a smidge before revealing your source to someone accused of murdering someone in the name of a bogus deity?
[This isn't getting him anywhere. He doesn't know why he thought it would; it's Jason Compson, after all. He just wishes he could know what's making everyone think he's got some kind of problem, what's clouding his mind and making his code go severely off-track, what's going on.
He turns to leave, and that's exactly what he's going to do unless Jason has anything else to say to him.]
[Jason doesn't. His curiosity has been satisfied - the rumor verified, his ability to pick up on Marco's erratic behavior vindicated. But he doesn't feel happy about it. An uneasiness settles into his stomach, and he frowns at the door after Marco. Then he tries to suppress it and goes back to cleaning up the counter.]
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[He pauses for a second, then grins again.]
In fact, the only group more disorganized is the Fourth God's, which would explain why you haven't had much traction lately. Fourth's fault, I reckon, for hiring loonies.
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Eventually, he settles for shaking his head and saying,] You are going to make the wrong people mad some day, Jason.
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Look, I don't give a damn about this god war business. But if you're going to insist on ripping up people who follow the Fog God, you're heading for trouble. Even I know better than to hold a person's religion against them.
[You know. Unless they're Jewish.]
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Are you sure about that?
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But since you're here and talking about justified murders, I may as well tell you -- I don't worry myself with what my coworkers believe or what gods they get tied up in, but I don't care if they're delivering homemade Christmas cakes to the Fog God, you don't touch them.
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... Who's been saying that? That I'm... "crack-brained"?
[Perhaps not the most important thing to get out of what Jason said, but to him, it's a significant concern.]
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Why do you want to know? Are you in need of some lives to snuff out at the lake? Do you think they're committing treachery against the Fourth God for stating this piece?
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Just... answer my question!
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[To make his response all the more obnoxious, Jason leans back and starts to pick at his nails, cleaning them of anything caught in their cat-like hooks.]
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[He may have just raised his voice a little more than what would be appropriate for a public place.]
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Fine. Then I don't believe you.
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Why-- [He stops, clears his throat, makes sure he keeps his voice down.] Why not? Because I'm "crazy"? Is that it?
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[This isn't getting him anywhere. He doesn't know why he thought it would; it's Jason Compson, after all. He just wishes he could know what's making everyone think he's got some kind of problem, what's clouding his mind and making his code go severely off-track, what's going on.
He turns to leave, and that's exactly what he's going to do unless Jason has anything else to say to him.]
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