pineslog | [ OPEN ]

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ]

Who: Jesse & OPEN
Where: Jesse's pharmacy & around town
When: May catch-all
What: Digging trackers out of his thigh, covering cameras, picking up chicks, doing art with kids, and getting bored out of his mind while festering in Orwellian paranoia. This town sucks.
Warnings: Nothing major of note so far! Will edit if this changes.

► BLUE SKY PHARMACY - open

[ Jesse kind of looks a joke, in his baggy dark jeans and his skull t-shirt, his close shaven head, and a white lab coat his boss makes him wear in the pharmacy. The coat is too big on him around the shoulders and the arms, and the cuffs hang halfway over his hands. There are dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, he's pale, the wounds on his face from when he'd woken up in hospital all busted up now fading scars.

With no choice but to keep busy, lest he start losing his mind from paranoia at being all too aware of the goddamn cameras, or losing his mind to boredom, Jesse resumes his jobs around the store: unpacking boxes of cold and flu pills, unpacking brightly coloured packs of period pads onto shelves, restocking boxes of condoms on shelves, signing off on paperwork his boss has left for him to fill out, wiping down shelves with begrudging tiredness… and occasionally slipping out the back door into the alleyway for a smoke whenever his boss ducks out for a coffee or to run an errand. Other times, he's got nothing to do, and he stands around the store looking bored as hell, or wanders around drumming his hands on his thighs or finger drumming on surfaces or doing stupid, restless things like doing wheelies in the wheelchair that people can hire from the store.

The bell over the door rings again as another customer steps into the store. Jesse might be found doing any of the above tasks. ]

► AFTER SCHOOL PROGRAMME @ PINES ACADEMY - open

[ It's one thing to feel like a prisoner in some bizarre fucking Twilight Zone pantomime. It's another thing entirely that kids are trapped in this shit. But Jesse tries not to focus on that. In fact, if there's one thing Jesse enjoys the hell out of, it's hanging out with the kids every Wednesday and Friday afternoons, from 5.30 through to 7. He'll take them out into the grounds of the school for skateboarding some weeks, takes them to the woodwork room to show them how to build things other weeks, will set up art supplies in the art room other times.

This week, it's art. He hasn't set up all the art supplies yet, though. Instead, Jesse is standing on one of the tables that he's dragged over to the corner of the room, and he's stretched up on his tiptoes with an art smock that he's trying to reach high enough to hang over the camera. ]

► OUT AT NIGHT - open

[ Jesse never really cooks for himself. Microwavable meals and frozen pizzas are about the scope of Jesse's culinary skills. That would mean eating alone, though, in his huge, empty house, surrounded by silence and loneliness while his mind races at a hundred miles an hour. So, most nights, instead of going home from work or from the after school programme at Wayward Pines Academy, he heads into town. He almost always has an agenda to pick up a chick at the bar at some point, someone to take home with him for the night. If he's drunk and desperate enough, it doesn't even have to be a chick. Whatever he can get to fill the hollowed out deadness inside him and kill the endless churning restlessness bottled up inside him.

Some nights, he eats at It's Raining Hen, picking away at fries that he doesn't really feel like eating while slurping on a soda. Sometimes he grabs a meal at Tequila Mockingbird while sitting by the window, and almost always winds up slouched at the bar with a few drinks. Sometimes, he doesn't feel like eating at all and so skips eating altogether to head straight for Weaver's, where the guy who owns the bar is a total jackass but Jesse's chances of picking up someone for the night are higher. ]

► DIGGING TRACKERS OUT OF HIS LEG - open

[ The tracker embedded in his leg that Jesse had mistaken for just a weird lump until Laura's announcement to the town the other day feels like a cancer growing inside him. It makes his skin crawl, knowing his every move isn't just being watched but tracked.

And so, in a fit of frustration, morbid curiosity, downright irked in anger, he chugged down half a bottle of booze and took out a surgical blade he'd lifted stealthily from the pharmacy. He grunted in pain as he'd dug the thing out of his thigh, and he'd held up the bloodied, small thing with creeping horror to inspect it. Scrambling off the couch to his feet with an off-kilter sway, he spat in slurred fury, "Eat me, you fucks!" at a camera in the corner of his living room with his jeans down around his ankles, blood running down his inner thigh, and the tracker held up at the camera while flipping the bird with his other hand.

It's the next day now. He's a washed out wreck. And he's limping slightly. The limp is noticeable when he's working in the pharmacy, it's noticeable when he's at the after school programme at the high school that afternoon, and it's noticeable as he slouches into Weaver's that night and grimaces in pain while sliding onto the stool.

And, boy, is he in a cold, withdrawn mood. Not because his leg hurts, but because Laura had been right about the trackers being replaced: when he'd passed out drunk on the couch, he woke up the next morning with a hangover and a new tracker under his skin. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It was Saturday, which meant her day off from work. It was almost tempting to just ignore the fact that she was dangerously low on a few things that she needed pretty much now. If she did ignore it she'd regret it later, which is why she sucked it up and got out of bed.

It took her a while to actually leave the house, and she was still barely awake. Probably should've had some coffee before she left, but she'd just get one from the cafe instead as a "good job at adulting" treat for herself afterwards. The sad part is that it wasn't even that early, it was close to 12 actually.

Once she was inside the pharmacy, Skye paused by the door when she saw the guy from the bake sale in a wheelchair popping some wheelies. It was also not hard to spot the box of tampons in one of his hands and he seemed to be reading it like it was the most interesting thing he could find.]

Are they any good?

[Because clearly he used them. Skye noticed he was wearing a white lab coat. Did he actually work here?]

[ Jesse is balancing the wheelchair on its back wheels, and the front wheels thump onto the ground as he snaps his head up to the person. His eyes widen at realising it's the smoking hot babe he'd seen at the bake sale the other day. ]

Oh. Uh.

[ He's quickly stuffing the box of tampons back onto the shelf, then he scrambles out of the wheelchair as gracefully as he can. His foot gets caught on the folded own footrest and he only just manages not to sprawl face first onto the floor. The wheelchair bashes into the shelf, though, and several packs of period pads tumble to the floor in the process. ]

[If he expected any reaction other than her laughing, well, sucks for him because that's exactly what happens. She hadn't meant to spook him, much less for him to make a huge mess because she scared him.]

Oh my god.

[At least they were pads and not glass? She could just stand there laughing at him, but she wasn't a complete asshole. Which is why she bent down to help start picking them back up.]

I didn't know you worked here.

[Obviously.]

[ Smooth, Pinkman. Real fucking smooth. ]

Um. Yeah. Yeah, I do. [ Pushing a hand over his buzzed head while letting out a brief sheepish laugh. Then he's dropping his hand away to quickly squat down while reaching for the packs of pads. ] It's cool, it's cool, I got it.

It's fine. I kind of scared the crap out of you anyway.

[Standing back up with an armful of boxes, Skye puts them back on the shelf.]

Clearly you were having the time of your life and I interrupted it.

[Scooping up the rest of the boxes that he hadn't grabbed Skye put them back up on the shelf and kind of just left them haphazardly there. He could reorganize it and clearly it would give him something to do.

She does reach over for the box of tampons he had just been reading though.]

So would you recommend these?

[Little shit.]

[ Oh my god, he's thinking, as he places the last couple of packs back onto the shelf. ]

I, um. [ He pushes himself back up to his feet, nudging the wheelchair out of the way. He peers down at the tampons she's plucked up, and he finds himself biting back a small smile of sheepish amusement because, damn it, she's totally got him. ]

Can't say those're really within my realm of personal... y'know. Judgement or whatever.

[Hes making this way too easy, but she does stop teasing him. For now.]

I guess I'll just have to hope for the best then. Do you guys have baskets?

[Because holding everything she was about to buy was going to be annoying.]

Uh, yeah. They're 'round here.

[ Turning around quickly, he sidesteps around the shelf to lunge down for a shopping basket. He brings it up around the shelf and holds it out to her. He's still biting back that same smile. ]

I'd say don't be fooled by the lab coat, but I'm pretty sure you've figured that part out already.

Pretty sure I did, yeah.

[Smiling in thanks as she took the basket from him, Skye put the box in there before looking back up at him.]

Not a lot of people today I'm guessing?

[She starts down the isle he had knocked over, looking for a few other things. Skye didn't care if he followed her or not as it was she was still half asleep, and yes, she was wearing what she wore to bed. Leggings counted as pants, right?]

[ Jesse grabs the handles of the wheelchair and turns it around to start steering it back towards the counter. He rolls his eyes to himself all the while, thinking how much of an idiot he is, though he is already shrugging it off at the same time. Whatever, really. Humiliating as that was, it's not like he hasn't got far more pressing matters weighing down on his mind. A small, dry huff of amusement at her comment, though. ]

My boredom was that obvious, huh?

[Placing something else in her basket, Skye looked over her shoulder at him with a smile.]

I would totally be doing the same thing if I had access to a wheelchair af work. Although I don't think my boss would appreciate it.

[Speaking of bosses Skye looks around as if to ask "where is yours?"]

How long are you on shift for?

[ He steers the chair around the corner of the counter towards where the other walking aids are stashed. ]

Too long. Boss is out for lunch, though, so I've just been killing time while there's nothing to do.

[ Chair being stowed in the corner now. He glances over his shoulder at Skye. ]

How's things, anyway?

So you're stuck here all by yourself?

[Okay maybe she isn't done with messing with him. It wasn't like she didn't mess around when Brock was out for lunch, although she didn't knock things over like someone else.]

Oh, you know...

Boring.

[When things weren't crazy around here, it was just a lot of fake positive attitudes.

Walking down another isle to grab shampoo, Skye put the basket down so she could compare the different scents before turning to him holding up two bottles.]

Can I get your opinion?

[ Boring. Yeah. Right. Jesse is pretty sure he remembers this town being way more boring than it is. He's certain he doesn't remember all this paranoia constantly eating away at him, or the cameras bugging him as much as they do. He's positive he's had a good life here... except he can't quite piece that together in his head, and that only serves to make the queasy unease stewing constantly inside him to writhe around even more.

Yeah, he wishes it was boring.

Moving around the counter, he heads down the aisle towards her with a crooked smile on his lips, a smile that doesn't quite reach his tired eyes. ]

Sure, but it'll cost you extra.

[Rolling her eyes when he told her it would cost her extra, Skye smiled briefly at him in a sarcastic way.]

Says the guy who could've broken something.

[She holds out the bottles to him though. Amused that he's even bothering to do this at all.]

Which one smells better?

[ He comes to a stop in front of her. His brows are raised slightly, dubiously, accompanied with an amused quirk of his lips. ]

And you want my, uh, 'professional' opinion on this because...?

Do I want to know what profession you're in for feminine scents?

[She had a wild guess as to what he meant by that and judging by the smirk she was pretty sure her guess was correct. Either way, it's got her smiling too.]

[ Jesse rolls his eyes, and for a moment, breaks out into another smile that's genuine. The smile fades quickly back into something wry, crooked. ]

In this weird ass town? Who even knows.

[ Which might sound like it's said in jest, but there's a lot more underneath that which he's referring to. Everything about this town has to be talked about in riddles and jovial insinuations and roundabout ways, to avoid having the goddamn Sheriff show up with a warrant for arrest.

And, Jesus, there's so much playing on his mind about Wayward Pines and everything else that's all tangled up in his head. He's been looking for any kind of underhanded opportunities to talk about it. ]

[Skye has been smart about what she says to who and where she actually talks about this place. She totally has brought up things they were warned not to though. Her smile fades too at his obvious hint. She's not about to give it away completely that there are things she suspicious of, but her sarcasm is evident.]

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Sorry I'm late!

[Clary comes running in with her usual dark backpack slung over her shoulders. She isn't actually late. She's usually already at the school and ends up being early but today she had had to grab something from home and it threw her off her timing. A bright collection of memories told her to be there early, that she had to be there early, but Clary isn't sure if she should trust them. She isn't sure what she can trust anymore. An awkward feeling settles in her stomach but she pushes it away.

There were some band kids around the school at this hour and a few teachers but the school is mostly empty. Lately Clary has found it very creepy. A little but like the Twilight Zone but also a little bit like the movie Scream. A chill snakes down her spine but she ignores that feeling too.

Clary looks up as she steps into the room to see Jesse reaching out with the smock. She just watches for a moment, blinking. She would offer to help but Clary is barely over five feet tall. She is cursed to be short which isn't fair considering even her mother is taller than her.]

You're going to fall.

[It's the first thing that came to her lips though it isn't exactly a helpful statement. A flood of relief fills her was she looks up at him. She always feels better when she isn't alone but it is a little bit different with Jesse. She remembers him, knows him and he knows her. Right now, any bit of familiarity is warmly welcomed.

She steps closer as if to catch him if he did fall, only that she wouldn't be much help with that either.]

--shit.

[ That's muttered under his startled breath at Clary suddenly bursting into the room. Damn, he'd been so focused on trying to get this freakin' camera covered, so lost in thought, that he hadn't even registered those hurrying footsteps towards the room until she'd announced her arrival like that.

A hand slapping on the wall for balance, he glances over his shoulder down at her. He flashes her a brief warm smile. A small torrent of relief floods through him, too, at seeing her. He definitely recognises Clary. At least she seems to be a piece of the jumbled up jigsaw puzzle in his head about his life that's actually slotted into place. ]

Hey. Nah, I'm good. I've almost... [ Attention turned back up to the camera. He arches up that bit more onto his toes, grunting a small straining noise under his breath. The lens of the camera seems to be boring a hole into his mind, like the intrusive assholes they are. ] Swear to god, I'm sick of these goddamn things.

[Clary raises her palms out to him as she steps closer, a little unsure how she can help but feeling that desire grow as he reaches to cover the reflective black lens. She doesn't like them either. It's sort of like being on some sick reality TV show. She hasn't found the ones in her house which makes taking a shower very uncomfortable for her.]

Me too but it won't do much good if you hurt yourself. [She grumbles a little, that sound of someone who cares but is annoyed at the same time.]

Can I help?

[She finally asks, knowing that there is really no way that she can help, but the desire is to strong to keep ignoring. She drops her backpack onto the table next to him and stands directly behind him.]

You almost got it.

Nah, I got it, I got it. [ Another quiet strained noise before he sets his jaw and leaps up with a grunt, and just manages to hook the smock over the camera. His feet thud back down onto the table, and he lets out an irritated albeit relieved sigh. Covering the two cameras he's found offers some reprieve from feeling constantly watched, though he can't shake the irksome feeling that there are prying eyes hidden elsewhere in the room that he just hasn't found yet.

Whatever. It'll have to do. ]

Toldja I got it. Thanks, though. [ And then, retorted with dry triumph up at the camera: ] Bite me.

Edited 2017-05-23 17:20 (UTC)

[Clary winces when Jesse drops back down to the table. Not because she thought it hurt him but because it was loud sound and an automatic reaction. She looks up at him with an amused stare.]

I think if a camera could bite we should be worried. [A chill creeps up Clary's spine and she glances around.] Did you get them all? [She's no good at looking for the camera's. Why is this place so weird? It doesn't feel right. Nothing that's been discovered the last few days has felt right.

Clary wishes there was something she could do. She hated the static feeling of just waiting for stuff to happen.]

Probably not.

[ No point pretending it doesn't feel like they're still being watched. Or who knows, maybe he has got all the cameras, but the ever pervasive feeling of being watched lingers like crackling static in the air no matter what.

The table creaks as he turns around on the spot. He crouches down and jumps to the floor. Now he's eye level with Clary. Or, well, looking down at her a little, with him standing a little taller at 5'8". He flashes her another smile; a thin but warmer, lingering one this time, though it doesn't quite reach his exhausted eyes. The last several days have been playing endlessly on his mind, too, and wreaking havoc with his sleep. A lot of things have been wreaking havoc on his sleep, really. ]

And you're not late, by the way. Programme don't start for like another fifteen minutes. Just need help setting up. Thinking of doing like free style art today. Y'know, painting, drawing, collages, fingerpainting, whatever the kids wanna do. [ He lowers his voice and leans in to add: ] Figure just lettin' 'em draw or paint whatever's on their mind due to the last few days might be good for them.

[Clary watches as he jumps back down to the floor. She still feels short but less so now that he's back on ground level. She exhales a slow breath feeling the same tension and tiredness that Jesse felt. Clary can't remember the last time she slept without waking up to a nightmare.]

That's good. I feel like I've been running around all day. [She looks up at Jesse then, really looks at him. She knows his smile and she can see the tired lines around his eyes. She doesn't remember that being there before.] You doing okay? [Another stupid question. Clary feels like she's full of stupid questions lately. Of course he isn't okay. None of them are but she's at a loss of what to do.]

Free style sounds like a good idea. [She tries to wave away her concern.] I've been drawing everything that comes to mind lately. Just to get it out of my head.

[It's something that Clary does a lot though lately it hasn't work like it had in the past. There is to many conflicting pieces like a puzzle that just isn't meant to be put back together.]

[ Jesse's mouth pulls into a thin, concerned line as he studies Clary's face. How can these memories of Wayward Pines - the few that seem solid and fully formed, at least - be fake? He's known Clary for years... except he's pretty sure that's not true. It feels true, though, because she's someone that Jesse holds a deep level of affection for.

The deception of all these false memories of this place rattles Jesse to his bones. It reminds him of something from home. Something to do with lies. Something to do with a dawning realisation that someone had lied so profoundly to him that he'd wanted to murder them. God, the memory of that is so hazy, but the feeling is there, and that exact same feeling is what he's been left with at the revelation that all his memories of this town are nothing but lies.

He pushes his hands into his jeans pockets. He nods at what she's saying, fully understanding the need to get stuff out of her head. Speaking of which... ]

Hey, look, d'you wanna, like... Grab a bite to eat or something afterwards? Y'know. Talk?

[Clary stares up at him with a daze expression. Her mind continues to skip from one unanswerable question to the next never giving her a moments peace. She finds herself clinging to real and fake memories alike. She doesn't know the difference between the two and right now she just wants to find something comforting and familiar to be around.

His question finally hits her and she blinks.] What? Of course. I'd love too. [Clary pauses feeling a small blush creep into her cheeks.] Food sounds good or something. [Her tone remains light.] I've been living off frozen pizza's for the last few days and a change to that sounds magical.

[She isn't an awful cook but it isn't something she's spent a lot of time doing. Take out has always been Clary's go-to but her slimming funds means that she's been mostly eating frozen dinners or ramen noodles.

Talk. The word feels oddly weighted but she doesn't want to comment on it now. Later, during the talk. Clary wonders if it has to do with those dreams, the trackers. She'd poked at her leg but she hadn't had the nerve to slice into her own calf when she doesn't even know what she's looking for.]

[Jesse isn't the only person limping around, today. Logan has noticed many a limp and can smell the faint scent of blood on a number of people. The extraction and injury probably sucks for most people, but he does take a certain small satisfaction in knowing that his daughter was the one to figure this shit out and was brave enough to warn everybody.

Ironically, the kid who messaged the town about their trackers isn't limping one bit; and neither is her father. Logan had cut his out as soon as he'd become aware of it, and his healing factor had taken care of the rest.

His day hasn't been great, either. He'd had to cut out his tracker a second time, since it had indeed returned overnight. It wasn't any strain on him, physically, but he was starting to grow more discontent with Wayward Pines by the day. The fact that the town's authority figures would see fit to punish a child for telling the truth did not sit well with him at all.

He slaps down a hand full of bills on the bar top and slides onto the stool next to Jesse. With gesture of his hand, the bar tender seems to know to bring Logan his regular - bourbon on the rocks. Jesse also receives another of whatever he'd been drinking, too.]

You look like shit, kid.

Edited (i suck at formatting ok) 2017-05-26 07:01 (UTC)

Carl ignored the phone after that mess of the mayor's speech, which made Carl sick as more memories of a life he wasn't sure about rear their ugly head. Plus, if he heard anyone from the authority again, he might do something drastic.

In some ways it's a blessing Carl didn't get to have any guns.

But the teachers have noticed Carl's attitude. Blunt, coarse, and unforgiving, with a cold stare half the time, it's easy to be given the label of a problem child. It's why he's been given after school programs to work off his temper. Which is ridiculous. He's not mad. He just doesn't understand why everyone's priorities are into being this happy little town, when no one can leave, let alone what is going on the world. Drawing pretty pictures is not going to cut it.

Carl sits down on the Friday session when he sees Jesse Pinkman doing something to the camera.

"What are you doing?"

[Johnny likes Jesse. He's not entirely sure why, or when they've encountered each other before, but Jesse has the rare distinction of being Not Entirely Terrible, which, from Johnny's point of view, is a true medal of honor compared to most of the people he knows in this town. He doesn't seem...well, exactly like a pharmacist should seem, but whatever. It's probably fine.

Jesse's professionalism doesn't gain any more positive thoughts when Johnny enters the pharmacy to find the man himself pulling some...well, some decent tricks on one of the wheelchairs. Is that legal? Whatever. There's an amused look on his face regardless as he makes a beeline for the front desk.]

You can do cooler shit on there than that, but those chairs look flimsy as hell.

[It's offhand--barely humor by most standards, but with Johnny's dryness, it's a rare show of good spirits.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ OPEN ]

Pharmacy

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

► AFTER SCHOOL PROGRAMME @ PINES ACADEMY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

post tracker-removal @ weaver's

after school program

late ass tag-in; pharmacy