[ Roman opens it, dressed in his usual business attire. Slightly casual, but his hair slicked back like he usually does in the morning just for the sake of routine. He grins and while it's still wide and somewhat predatory, it's lacking something. He's nervous.
He doesn't like that Tim knows about Ken. He doesn't like that Tim knows about Ken and the word meth has been used. ]
I'd offer you a drink, but I'm a fucking inmate, so, fuck you and fuck manners I guess.
{ Tim picks up on that nervousness. He says nothing about it, walking into the cabin and only doing a cursory look around. Somehow he isn't surprised by what he sees. }
I'll keep that in mind for next time. So, about this memory bullshit.
Yeah, sure, we can open our kimonos. Most people buy a girl dinner first--and I should probably tell you I don't have a single memory of yours before we start, so...
I saw some bad shit with your brother and I thought it was bad shit I already knew. You're not the only person who knows people who get themselves knee deep in drugs and shit.
{ Tim's brow furrows, too, but more with exasperation than anything else. }
It clicks now, and Roman lifts his head, angles it to meet Tim properly, eyes slightly narrowed. Yeah. Yeah, that hadn't been him in that room talking to his war buddy. Couldn't be. The closest he ever got was military school. ]
{ Tim's lips press together. He hadn't enjoyed the idea of being shown a part of someone else's life, but he sure as hell doesn't like learning another person's got a glimpse of his own. This one, especially, feels more personal than the others. }
No one wants to watch someone they care about do that to themselves.
{ If it seems defensive, it's because it is. It's just Tim deflecting from the feelings that were actually there and may actually still be lingering. }
Yeah, he owed the guy money, didn't wanna go deal with it alone.
[ It's soft. Barely a whisper of the word, but an agreement: 'yeah.' It's hard to watch someone like that fall, over and over and over and over. It's harder to pick them up each time. But you do it anyways, because you care.
Roman's quiet for a few seconds, looking surprisingly contemplative, temporarily forgetting his usual demeanor. This is about Mark, sure, but this is about Ken. This about Tim and Roman picking up the pieces. This is an endless cycle you pray your loved one can get out of. Maybe there's a reason their memories are swapped. Some weird fucking cosmic joke.
He clears his throat. ]
Well, since I'm sad and I can't masturbate in the bathroom because General Council isn't here to verbally abuse me and I don't think you're up for the task, do you want to get shitfaced?
You know what? That's not even the weirdest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I can't say no to a drink or two. I'll even ask Raylan to reimburse you for what we drink.
{ It's the least Raylan can do, after all, as Roman's warden and acting on behalf of Tim paying Roman back. }
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level 3, cabin 16.
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He doesn't like that Tim knows about Ken. He doesn't like that Tim knows about Ken and the word meth has been used. ]
I'd offer you a drink, but I'm a fucking inmate, so, fuck you and fuck manners I guess.
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I'll keep that in mind for next time. So, about this memory bullshit.
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{ He lets his gaze land on Roman. }
I know what it's like. To see someone you're close to doin' that to themselves.
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[ Wait. Mark. It had been Mark. Hadn't it?
Roman's brow furrows, confusion rippling over his face. ]
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{ Tim's brow furrows, too, but more with exasperation than anything else. }
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It clicks now, and Roman lifts his head, angles it to meet Tim properly, eyes slightly narrowed. Yeah. Yeah, that hadn't been him in that room talking to his war buddy. Couldn't be. The closest he ever got was military school. ]
You know Mark.
[ A statement, not a question. ]
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Yeah. Mark, that's right. Army buddy of mine.
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[ His brows furrow. ]
You were worried. Like really, really worried. Like he was your only friend.
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{ If it seems defensive, it's because it is. It's just Tim deflecting from the feelings that were actually there and may actually still be lingering. }
Yeah, he owed the guy money, didn't wanna go deal with it alone.
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[ It's soft. Barely a whisper of the word, but an agreement: 'yeah.' It's hard to watch someone like that fall, over and over and over and over. It's harder to pick them up each time. But you do it anyways, because you care.
Roman's quiet for a few seconds, looking surprisingly contemplative, temporarily forgetting his usual demeanor. This is about Mark, sure, but this is about Ken. This about Tim and Roman picking up the pieces. This is an endless cycle you pray your loved one can get out of. Maybe there's a reason their memories are swapped. Some weird fucking cosmic joke.
He clears his throat. ]
Well, since I'm sad and I can't masturbate in the bathroom because General Council isn't here to verbally abuse me and I don't think you're up for the task, do you want to get shitfaced?
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{ It's the least Raylan can do, after all, as Roman's warden and acting on behalf of Tim paying Roman back. }
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{ Even if Roman's bullshitting. Tim wants to see Raylan give in with an exasperated sigh as Tim petitions to get Roman some booze. ]