sadfreezingbrit_archive | Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

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Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

[ And then this happened and Philip was back in his body. Just like that. Just... like that.

Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--

And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody is dead.

But the conclusions he's supposed to draw from this...

He takes a sip of whiskey. His first empty bottle now and quite likely not his last. That's how everyone will find him during the day: Sitting in the kitchen. Sipping on glass after glass, trying to make sense of what the hell happened in those past five days.

...Only later in the afternoon has he finally made his mind up about some things, leading to the following three audio transmissions: ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO DEAN]

Hey, I just... wanted to say that I'm- I'm back. I...

[ And then he hangs up, because everything else he wants to say is just so far out of his mental reach now, it's not even funny. ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO SANTANA]

Er, about... about the last time we talked, I think... there's something I think- I think I ought to tell you. Can we- Could we meet up someplace if you've got a moment? Please? Thanks.

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO BEISTE]

...Um, Shan-- Coach? I just... I just wanted to apologise for everything I-- for the last time we talked. That was after-- I wasn't... exactly myself then. I'm really sorry.

[[OOC: Slightly pre-dated to early afternoon on the 10th]]

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[Wow, that doesn't sound slightly creepy and ominous at all. She's pretty hesitant to answer, since he was so suddenly terrifying and also she still feels a little guilty for the whole poison thing. So you know. Logic.

But finally, she does answer.]

...How do I know this isn't revenge?

You don't, [ he mumbles to himself, hardly blaming her for being suspicious. ]

Because... because you didn't do anything I'd need to take revenge for.

[ And he really wishes he'd been the first to talk to her after his death rather than cleaning up Clarence's mess on top of everything.

...Look, bring a knife, bring a gun, I don't care, just... please, I've got to tell you something.

[ And fast, before he realises what a terrible idea this is. ]

[That wasn't what you said ~~last night, baby~~~ the other day, Philip.]

...This is still really suspicious sounding. [But she still has Philip's own gun, actually, thanks to Dean. So fine, she'll bring that.

And seriously hope she doesn't need to use it.]

Fine. Where?

Um...

[ Oh right, he should've thought that far ahead. ]

One of the t--

[ NOT one of the tea rooms.

...Not her room. Probably not his either.

The library is too public. The kitchen is too public. The dining hall is too traumatising. And too public. ]

...Third floor, first room.

[ Let's just hope that nobody's actually in there. ]

I'm gonna tell people where I'm going, you know. Just in case I never come back.

...But fine, guess I'll be there.

[With ~THE GUN~]

...Sure.

[ On any other day this would probably give him pause and cause to be even gloomier, but today his schedule is already packed.

He makes his way to the third floor, thinking his decision through one last time.

He is exhausted. Hiding Clarence... is exhausting.

Philip can't bring himself to make a public announcement, can't put himself into the spotlight like that, but at the same time...

Hiding Clarence means pretending to be normal. Look how well that worked out again. No, he can't really hold on to that reason anymore.

And telling more people might... might even make things easier. Better.

Santana in particular doesn't sound like a likely confidant at first, but she did keep Timsky's secret... at least as far as Philip knows.

And if he trusted her then this can't be such a bad idea, right?

...Right? ]

...Santana?

[ He slinks through the door. ]

[Santana's there, twirling the gun around her finger. Totally responsible, right? Don't worry; the safety's on. Geez.]

Hey. Look, are you gonna start getting all weird if I apologize again? Cause it's really not something I do often.

[ Wow, that doesn't look very sa-- Is that his gun?

...Ergh, never mind that now. ]

I- no, I wouldn't, actually, that's--

[ ...what he wanted to talk about and fast before he gets cold feet.

But... he should probably wrap this other thing up first, what with knowing the importance of reassuring accidental murderers that they shouldn't blame themselves and all. ]

...if you apologise again I'm going to accept your apology, but I'm going to point out that it was just the event and that you're as much of a murderer as I'm a half-jellyfish psychiatrist teaching in Japan.

[Despite herself, she...kinda buys it. It may be just because she needs to believe it, needs to believe she's not a murderer of anything other than relationships and other people's dreams. And he sounds all...sincere. (Not that that's any sort of gaurentee.) The point is, she visibly relaxes a little.]

...That was pretty specific. What's with the sudden understanding?

Some of my last events, [ he clarifies, just before falling silent. ]

I know what it's like to... to be aware that- that you've done something you couldn't--

[ Dead silent. Always nice to know that his most recent confession is just as horrifying and straining as his first. ]

Edited 2011-11-10 22:24 (UTC)

[Staring forever, basically. God, Philip, use your words for once.]

Couldn't...what? I mean, yeah, this place makes people crazy and apparently homicidal.

Control. Or stop.

[ He turns away to eye the chairs in the room, wondering if cowering in one of them will somehow make him more talkative.

Probably not.

...You did order another round of silence, didn't you? ]

...So like I just said. I mean, unless you're saying you get like that for no reason and it's not the mansion's doing.

[HA HA, RIGHT?]

[ ... ]

Not for no reason, no.

[ His words feel like a large piano stuck in a small door or an equally ridiculous metaphor that conveys how difficult it is for him to say what is on his mind.

Or who, for that matter. ]

You didn't talk to me. [ A deep breath. ] That last transmission just after the event, that- that wasn't actually me.

[ Aww, see?

It's just like killing yourself by drowning in ice cold water. No sense wading towards your death slowly from the shoreline, you've just got to find yourself a high spot, close your eyes and leap! ]

[Finally, Santana stops twirling the gun. Oh, she's still staring, of course. Duh. But now she's giving him her ~undivided attention.]

Uh, okay... Are you saying there's a third you wandering around? Because it couldn't have been your mirror, or he would have hit on me.

[ And a fourth, technically. ]

...Not separately, no. But, erm...

[ He remembers the most compelling argument he had for telling her. The easiest way he can think of beginning to explain. ]

Tim and I, we... we sort of had... the same- a similar problem.

[ He clears his throat. ]

I'm not... always me.

[...]

...What.

[ This would be an excellent opportunity to yell APRIL FOOLS and leave the room, wouldn't i-- Okay, apparently not.

He tries to hold off thinking about her reaction until later and continues: ]

Back at home I went abroad just before I came to Wonderland. You probably won't care about the details, but I... I caught something, a virus.

There aren't any symptoms [ he cares to describe to her ], instead it's just... the virus itself. Which... has a personality. And gave himself a name.

[ It falls short of the information he usually provides, but something tells him that she isn't the type to care about the personal story surrounding his... problem. ]

Edited 2011-11-11 01:08 (UTC)

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1/I'll let you know

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done! 8D

Thank you, I quite enjoyed that.