welcome to the Jungle, we've got fun and games [closed to Joan]

[acroodawakening]

Who| Guy and Joan and then eventually Guy's killer
What| Teaming up and friendinating more while probably having sad feelings about humanity being all cruel to itself and junk
Where| In the jungle
When| Arena Week 6
Warnings/Notes| Probably gonna get Guy all dead up in here so murder time murder time blood blood blood

It was strange how much a few weeks could change a man. When Guy had been shoved into the arena, he'd been a panicked mess, but a well-fed, well-rested, able-bodied panicked mess with a good idea on how to survive. Now he'd gone far too long without food. He was feeling weak and losing muscle mass; it wasn't like he had much fat to burn. The poisoning and injuries certainly hadn't helped. A strange sort of apathy had settled over him. It wasn't the worst thing, because it meant he wasn't terrified absolutely all the time, but it was probably more lethargy from the hunger rather than any sort of zen calm.

Okay, maybe it was a little bit of zen calm. When you lived a life knowing every day might be your last and that every one you weren't dead was a blessing, death was still something to be afraid of, to be avoided, but its inevitability was something that could be accepted.

So inside, he really wasn't as much of a mess as he was on the outside.

Considering what a mess he was on the outside, though, that still wasn't saying much.

When Joan and him wandered into the same clearing, the sight that would greet her would be wildly different than the first time she'd met Guy. His skin was paler like he was - or had been - ill, and filthier because he'd often used mud to cool off and as camouflage. His hair was matted and even more unkempt. His nose and neck were bruised with nasty purpling bruises in various states of healing, and his body now sported countless small injuries. Cuts and scrapes, a nasty looking sore on his shoulder that wasn't quite infected but wasn't quite healing either...

One injury wasn't so small - the long gash up the right side of his face had left it a mess, covered in smeared, dried blood, and scabbed over. It had only narrowly missed his eye. Even his eyelid was cut slightly.

The moment he saw Joan's movement and heard the sound of the brush, he held his spear at the ready, a situation which begged an important question...

With the state he was in and the time that had passed, was he still the same, still as gentle, as when they'd met the first time? Or had he been pushed enough that pointless violence seemed a better way to respond to things in the arena?

"Joan," he said shakily.

He didn't lower the spear.

Maybe he had concerns about how desperate she'd gotten since he last saw her, too.

Comments

[formersurgeon]

"No, it's okay." She sighed, narrowing her eyes briefly as she looked up at the sky. "I've got my mom and dad, and my brother Orin. I don't see a lot of them, though. Definitely not as much as my mother would like," she said wryly. Joan's relationship with her mother was, at best, complicated. "I'm closer to my friends. And I spend most of my time with my partner. Business partner, not romantic. Sherlock." She smiled a little, gestured with her hand. "Not the same Sherlock. It's...a long story."

[acroodawakening]

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around the idea of two of them," Guy said with the tiniest hint of a chuckle. "He's, ah, he's a man with a great deal of...presence."

His tone wasn't mocking, though. He'd meant it when he told her that she hoped he'd come back.

"So what's your Sherlock like?"

[formersurgeon]

"Well," she answered. "They both have a great deal of presence. They're very similar in a lot of ways...both brilliant in some ways, and utterly clueless in others. They can both be very abrasive. I think my Sherlock is better with people in general, though. More understanding. He's also a lot louder. More brash. Likes to bounce around."

The tone of her voice was deeply fond and clearly sad. She missed her friend, very much. Joan would never wish for Sherlock to be brought there and have to die over and over like that. But that didn't mean she didn't wish she was with him.

[acroodawakening]

He didn't like the sadness in her voice but then he didn't like the sadness in himself.

"I'm not going to lie and say that you'll see him again. That's not really reassuring when none of us know really, if we're..."

He trailed off. Part of that was sleepiness. It seemed he was finally starting to drift off a little, the day's agitation finally winding down and giving way to exhaustion. Part of it was that the words 'if we're going to die' didn't need to be said when that was their ever-present reality.

"But don't ever forget it's not impossible, either."

[formersurgeon]

He sounded tired. It made sense, with what they had been through. And this could be the last place and time they would be able to give in to the weariness. She moved a hand to take his and squeeze it gently.

"I won't forget. Thank you."

[acroodawakening]

His hand squeezed hers back and there was a ghost of a smile but then he fell asleep in the way people did when conditions for sleeping sometimes weren't exactly ideal.

In sleep, he still loosely held her hand.

[formersurgeon]

It wasn't long until Joan herself drifted off, her sleep lighter than it would be outside the arena, but still more comfortable than it had been for the weeks inside. She loosely held his hand as well as they slept.