John Henry "Doc" Holliday (
thering) wrote in
villagelogs2021-01-07 08:38 am
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026 》sweet troubled man are you giving or taking?
characters: Malcolm, Neal, Negan, Raylan, Doc
location: 1306 Phillips Dr
date/time: day 26 morning
content: the reset Playstation button was pressed
warnings: tbd
After the strangeness of the past two nights they were likely fully expecting to awaken in the same strange, different, not-so-new anymore places they found themselves in in the past two days.
Instead everything seems to have reset, again. The three permanent residents and two guests are back in 1306, exactly where they had been two nights ago. Malcolm was in his own room, Neal was in Doc's and Negan in Raylan's master bedroom. The two displaced cowboys are downstairs sharing one too-small couch, a night of drinking culminating in fighting over couch space and who gets to be the bigger spoon.
The fire in the fireplace had gone out and their Winter 2020 Collection of bespoke lanterns have vanished, but nothing else seems to be awry.
location: 1306 Phillips Dr
date/time: day 26 morning
content: the reset Playstation button was pressed
warnings: tbd
After the strangeness of the past two nights they were likely fully expecting to awaken in the same strange, different, not-so-new anymore places they found themselves in in the past two days.
Instead everything seems to have reset, again. The three permanent residents and two guests are back in 1306, exactly where they had been two nights ago. Malcolm was in his own room, Neal was in Doc's and Negan in Raylan's master bedroom. The two displaced cowboys are downstairs sharing one too-small couch, a night of drinking culminating in fighting over couch space and who gets to be the bigger spoon.
The fire in the fireplace had gone out and their Winter 2020 Collection of bespoke lanterns have vanished, but nothing else seems to be awry.
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"There aren't many other phenomena I can think of wherein food just appears every day. People kept in their pens. A few show up, a few go missing. We are like little farm animals." Only it is left to be seen who among them would be Napoleon the pig.
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"Eventually whoever or whatever's behind this will make a mistake. We just need to catch it when it happens. And stay alive in the mean time."
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"We did not manage to pursue our loose end, Mister Mikaelson, before we left. We have some immediate concerns to tend to today but I promise you, he won't hurt you again. Not on my watch." He would not go behind Raylan's back to take care of their little problem, but he isn't sure that they are on the same page regarding this topic, the same way he is sure that they are on the same page on just about every other topic.
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But here, he's no one. The con man who passed out on their couch. Never, never has he gotten this kind of consideration from strangers. They know what he is. Raylan and Malcolm do, at least, but that hasn't seemed to have changed anything.
"I'm an ex-con," Neal says abruptly. "I'm a thief. If we met a hundred and fifty years ago, I'd be in your crosshairs, not on your couch."
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"Name a man in this house who has not done anything regrettable and I would prove you wrong. If you stole from me a hundred and fifty years ago I would have shot and killed you faster than you could say your own name," Doc concedes. He wouldn't have hesitated back then, too. If he did he would be the one dead in the streets.
"But you showed up three days ago needing help. You did not steal from us. You have stolen, in the past. You have also drawn, you cooked, you read. That could make you a thief, an artiste, a chef, or a frontier history aficionado. I do not have the privilege of defining the man I am. History has made me a gunslinger, a gambler, a dentist, a vagabond. My legacy has been set in stone. I would not rob you of such a privilege, to decide the kind of man you are today."
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It's a first. He's not sure how Peter would react to it. Probably give Doc some kind of award.
Peter, who hasn't decided yet whether he's testifying for or against Neal at his commutation hearing. Neal fumbles for a moment, trying to find a way to break the silence.
"You can't mean that." He doesn't know how to handle this. "I've robbed palaces. Broken into embassies. I've been on crews with murderers, had a partner execute our third man right in front of me. I lie, all the time. All the time. Even when I tell the truth. I counterfeited ancient Egyptian manuscripts just because I felt like confusing some historians. I replaced the Mona Lisa with a fake. They still haven't noticed that one. You don't know me. I don't even know me any more."
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Raising both hands in surrender, Doc leans back a bit and smiles.
"I was not questioning your prowess as a thief, or an artist. Or your-- relationship with Miss Lisa." That was Mona's last name, wasn't it? "All I am saying is, if being branded a thief is what you want on your headstone then I would respect that. But if you would rather be known for something else while you are here, then so it shall be. We have been here for some time, and we will likely continue to be here for some time. You have all the time and the space you need to get to know yourself and decide."
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"Sorry. It's been. A long couple of days."
As though that explains anything at all.
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"Did you want to go upstairs? Get some more rest?"
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"Otherwise we might see you tonight." It is unlikely that anyone will be staying in for the whole day after spending two days cooped up indoors. But with five people, at least one person should be around at any one time, and no doubt they'll be working on a better setup than two cowboys spooning on the couch tonight.
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"Yeah... yeah. I'll be back one way or another." Neal shakes his head.