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[mrballisticsdummy]

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[epistemological]

A pause.

"I wouldn't be opposed to the games." And there's a long pause. "You might actually beat me at Mario Kart."

Oooooooooo.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Fuxk you," he laughs. "Finish your water and I'll get it set up."

He's not exactly happy to leave him again, but he hesitantly starts to pull away. "And don't get up. I'll help you in a second. If you fall and break your head, Tim might legitimately kill me."

[epistemological]

"Tim would hardly." He says it blithely, amused at the idea. "As he's well aware whose fault that would be. It would just unbreak anyway, to be fair."

Though notice how he's staying put.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"He would hardly because he can't anyway," he tells him, turning on the television and getting it set up before returning to Jon and holding out a hand.

"Let's go, sleeping beauty."

[epistemological]

He pushes himself up and out of the bed as he reaches for Jacobi's hand. He takes it with a firmer grip as he gets to his feet.

"...bloody head shot," he grumbles as he starts moving.

"You haven't mentioned how things went on your ship. I've just been blathering on."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Because it was awful," he says softly. "And I didn't have a Mike to soften the blow."

He wraps an arm firmly around his waist and would just up and lift him if he could, but this will have to do.

"Well, there was a Michael. He caught me after the riot and was an absolute asshole, but no Mike."

[epistemological]

That makes him pause. Because 'Michael' means something very specific to him. He glances at Jacobi.

"...tell me about your Michael?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Not mine. We had the one interaction and I ended up sedated and completely out of it after. Curly hair. Tall. Spoke like a pretentious jackass. Kind of gave me a headache."

He puts a hand on his lower back to encourage him to keep walking. All the way to the couch.

[epistemological]

"Oh for fuck's sake," he says with a grumble as he sways a little. "Knives for fingers?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

He waits until he has him on the couch before dropping the controller in his lap.

"Huh. I thought that was just a hallucination. Everything was a little...fuzzy for a while. Why? Friend of yours?"

[epistemological]

Jon leans over a bit, grabbing the controller with one hand as the other tugs his neckline over to show a flat scar from what was clearly a blade of some sort.

"Not a hallucination, I assure you."

[mrballisticsdummy]

Jacobi sits down beside him, close enough to touch, and inspects the wound.

"Glad I didn't know then. I would have been in more trouble," he mutters. "He was an Assistant. And I was a Patient. You can guess which was the warden equivalent. It wasn't me."

He mutes the television but starts the game. "It was built like a preschool hell. Bright colors. Soft surfaces. No privacy. The goal was, well, just to be happy. To pretend to be happy was fine, too."

He rubs the back of his neck, touching the scar. "Brainwashed idiots."

[epistemological]

There were stitches, so it isn't too bad, but he'll run a finger lightly against Jacobi's hand as if to steady him. He doesn't understand it but he knows harm to him makes his friend... twitchy.

"I applaud you for not losing your mind. I can certainly see Michael playing at his fun in a place like that. Hopefully, you'll never have to see him again."

[mrballisticsdummy]

The touch helps, just a little, but at least now he has a new target in mind for if he ever needs to just lose his shit at someone.

"Hopefully. Fortunately, he left me alone after that. It was - a crazy fucking time. We weren't allowed to use any swear words. It would censor us. Even talking in person."

[epistemological]

"I feel like I ought to invite everyone to a game of 'Cards Against Humanity' after I'm no longer falling over," and he'll take a moment to select his driver for the game. Princess Peach, regardless of his status. If he loses, he loses.

"Just fill the room with the lot of us swearing up a storm."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Luigi was there," he mutter, passing by the character on the screen. "Never talked to him but...he was there."

He nudges him, picking Yoshi instead. "I'd be into that card game, though. I think a lot of people would be."

[epistemological]

He almost drops his controller.

"Have you told Tim yet? My God."

A pause.

"...was he awful?"

Another pause.

"Did he have a ghost vacuum?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"I haven't. And he just seemed...nice. And a little dumb. No vacuum. But green jumpsuit."

He looks over to him. "Guess I got the interesting boat."

[epistemological]

"I had a warden made of lava," is his answer to that, "a giant of a man who was apparently some manner of marine or another. Utterly hard ass."

A pause.

"...I'm not surprised about the 'dumb', however. I always thought Mario was the brains of that operation."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Oh definitely."

He picks the track. "Lava warden, huh? Was he an asshole?"

[epistemological]

"Probably the worst on the ship," he says with a sigh as he watches the screen load up and he'll select the race track. "I happened to be put in the room attached to his. So he took an interest in me."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Attached rooms," he mutters. "What the fuck."

But then the race starts and he's able to pull his attention away.

"I am not going easy on you this time."

[epistemological]

"I'd be livid if you did," he says, and he's definitely not as sharp as he usually would be, the bright colors stabbing into his eyes a bit, but he's holding his own.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"I did meet someone there who wasn't terrible and wasn't a cartoon rabbit," he mutters as he rounds a corner and overtakes him.

"He was...weird. But he helped me get what I needed to make a fire."

[epistemological]

"Well, 'weird' isn't outside of your wheelhouse, obviously," he says as he almost goes over the edge of the course.

"Wait, did you say cartoon rabbit?"