#thr1 punishercross

[drunkelreporter]

Cigarettes acquired, with a little help from an exasperated store clerk to figure out his newfangled Lost Tech phone thing, now all he needed was booze. Booze and information was often to be found in the same place, luckily, which would make his day much much easier.

After everything in JuLai, he really needed a drink.

The bar he picked was dark, a little on the dingy side, a good place to be when you wanted to overhear interesting tidbits. The kind of place that would normally pay close attention to anyone coming in but Roberto was an expert in appearing less then he was. No one paid much mind to an old drunk like him for long, not when he got settled in.

Meryl hadn't been very good at blending in with a crowd. Yet. Here's hoping she had enough time to work on it.

He slumped into the bar, hands in his pockets and a little bit of a stumble to his steps, just another schmuck looking to drown his worries in a glass. The clientele was... a lot more varied then anywhere he'd seen and if he hadn't been people watching while he satisfied his nicotine cravings he would have been taken aback enough to lose his little act. What a weird afterlife. Took all sorts he supposed.

His quick scan of the room, hidden under lazily hooded eyes and thick brows, came to an abrupt halt anyway, when he landed on a very familiar cross.

Fucking hell.

Suddenly he didn't care about appearing less, just getting a drink from the bar and making his way across the room to drop into the chair across from the Undertaker.

"Something got you too huh? Don't tell me it was that tiny freak, you looked to be doing a damn sight better then I did back there." He tipped his glass back and savored the burn of whiskey down his throat. "At least tell me Vash got Meryl out of there after I kicked it."

@punishercross

[drunkelreporter]

Roberto's mustache shifts as he gives a tired little smirk for Wolfwood's words. Sure, he didn't seem too bothered. What was there to be bothered about? Was he going to scream and cry and pitch a fit because he didn't get to live on that dusty rock covered in blood?

"No point gettin' up in arms about it. My luck ran out 's all. I figured it would, hangin' around our Typhoon. 'M not like you, can't keep up with him much as Meryl wanted us to. She's clever and young enough she'll figure it out." He puts his cigarette back to his lips, breathes in, out, adds to the haze floating above the heads of the bar patrons.

"I'm good t figuring people out. It's what kept this old dog alive this long. Just finally ran into something too far above my paygrade." He lowered his smoke to study Wolfwood right back, sleepy gaze just as piercing as always.

"Yeah. If they don't know, better they keep not knowing. 'M here now, apparently, no need to worry them over somethin' no one can change." Roberto chuckles dryly and tosses back the rest of his drink, pushing to his feet. "Those two would both only blame themselves and then cry all over me and I'm not dealing with that."

He steps around the table, walking past Wolfwood toward the exit, but pauses just within the kid's line of sight. Reaches out, making sure Wolfwood can see his every move, grips his shoulder firmly with a steady sort of strength that clearly shows he's nowhere near as drunk as he might play.

"You're a decent kid in a shit situation. If Hundred Spoons and Doctor Shithead aren't around to pull your collar, take advantage of it. Put the cross down for a bit, see how it feels. Might be nice for a change." He lets his hand fall, stuffs it back in his pocket. "Apparently I'll be around, if you decide you have any use for an old drunk like me."

With that, he meanders out. Wolfwood seems the type to want to stew to himself. Roberto isn't about to keep forcing his company on the guy.

He's got a newbie and a Typhoon to track down it seems.

He sighs, tilting his chair back, balancing it with his foot and listening to Roberto talk. It was...

A bit odd.

Roberto wasn't being nice, he wasn't really that nice anyway, but he wasn't being nearly as much of an asshole to Wolfwood as he had been previously.

And it didn't take a genius to find out way.

"Yeah, he knew. Asked him why, but you prob'ly got him figured too." He lets his foot settle back down, and the front two legs of his chair fall with a heavy thunk. He puts his elbows on his knees, studying Roberto.

"Ya don't seem too bothered 'bout being dead."

He could feel himself click his tongue. Should've figured he wouldn't be - but mostly he just figured the guy should know. He should know that whatever the fuck this is, this was it. "But yeah, pretty much the way it went down." He doesn't argue about how they all got Vash to JuLai - after all, only one of them knew for certain it was a clear trap.

"Meryl didn't seem t'remember much. Said she got into the elevator with you, an' that was it. Prob'ly before she turned around." He sighs again, tapping out the ash. "So we agree. Don't tell 'em?"

[drunkelreporter]

'Death isn't anything new', no, it's really not. Definitely not for their Undertaker. Guy made a living off of death, just not in the way Roberto had originally thought.

Was it even making a living if he was made to be a weapon? Roberto had called that he was an assassin for sure but man was he wrong about the circumstances.

"Ah well, sentimentality must be one of those things that happens when you get old." Meryl was safe at least. Vash... Well Vash was Vash. He'd gone to JuLai to find his murderous brother in the first place to get the Plants back. Roberto wasn't exactly surprised things hadn't gone well.

He sits quietly for a few moments, focused on sorting through information. He hadn't exactly had time to really absorb everything they'd learned from the so called doctor before they'd been chased down by the murderous Plant child.

"Vash was going to JuLai whether you dragged him there or not. Think we all know that pretty well so there's no point in you playing the 'I helped get him there' card. I'm not buying it any more then I bought you being a proper undertaker." He takes a deep drink, leaning on the booze to steady him in all this.

"So, we all got Vash to JuLai, in our own little ways. Newbie and I just got used to speed him up a little, most obvious trap I've ever seen. Dunno why they bothered since he was coming anyway. I got offed by the Plant brat, you got Meryl out, Vash fought Hundred Spoons, and I'm assuming JuLai went the way of Jenora. Then we're here, all of us, and they don't know I'm a dead man. Heh. Some kinda trip for sure." He wonders if Wolfwood knows they talked to the crazy doctor, if Meryl told him about that. Roberto had known there was something up with the kid since before the steamer, but watching him take bullets like it was nothing and then be perfectly fine the next day had confirmed it.

He probably should have felt threatened after that. Instead he just felt tired.

"They don't remember. And neither of them are the best at lying." So he was pretty sure they were telling him the truth. Of the three, it was him who was the liar. He taps some of the ash into the tray on the table, looking back at Roberto.

He's...Relieved and disappointed that Roberto agrees with him. On the one hand, it was someone else to share the blame when they both remembered - if they both remembered. On the other hand, it might've been better to hash this out now, recent events being what they were.

"Death ain't anythin' new. Sorry t'see ya go, but don't go gettin' all sentimental on me. Yer the only one in this merry band that got it right." He takes another drag of his cigarette, Punisher sitting prominently on the chair next to him.

"Had to pay you back for the cigs I swiped off your body anyway." At least, that's how he justified his return. Hired with payment in cigarettes. "An' I was only able to protect Meryl from all that shit. Vash was...Well, he's in this place now. That's 'bout as much as I know. We parted ways. Saw him fightin' his brother. And then...." He makes a gesture, slamming his hand on the table, unspoken reference to JuLai's destruction.

"So don't go thankin' me. Didn't do shit. Hell, helped lead up to it, if we wanna be specific 'bout it. Not that any of us could've stopped it." A shrug, he leans back in his chair, one leg over the other.

"At least we agree. Best for 'em not to know 'til they remember."

[drunkelreporter]

Roberto raised an eyebrow at the pack of cigarettes sliding across the table and picked it up, taking one and lighting it up. Things are clearly more fucked then he thought if Wolfwood is handing over cigarettes at the mere sight of him.

"Well that's a statement to make. Looks like you're gonna be the one fillin' me in this time." And boy does he. Roberto listens quietly, eyes narrowed slightly as he turns the information over and over to fit it all with the puzzle in his head. Its missing way too many pieces for him to be nearly comfortable with it all after knowing so much about home but it's better then he started with.

"I'm gonna ignore that bit about stayin' dead. We'll get back to that. What do you mean they don't remember? Meryl was with me in the elevator." He doesn't know if Vash noticed the blood he was doubtless trailing as they'd retreated. He'd done his best to hide it, because he'd known he was dead the second he felt the impact. The only thing he could do was keep it under wraps so he wasn't in the way, wasn't a distraction. There was definitely too much else to be dealt with to worry about his old ass.

"Mmm. If they don't know, better they keep not knowing. I didn't want you two knowing when we ran, there wasn't anything you could have done." He breathes out his own plume of smoke at the ceiling, tapping his fingers on the rim of his glass. "You found out though. Sorry you had to see that. My luck had to run out at some point."

Roberto eyes the kid quietly. Wolfwood was a tricky little bastard but Roberto was used to reading tricky little bastards. The stress was too easy to spot, like that day on the sandsteamer and then after that.

"Thanks, for not telling them. Keeping them safe. Good to see I was the one who was wrong with my first call on you."

Fucking hell. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Shit fuck.

He slammed his cigarette into the ashtray, smoke exhaling with a hiss as his own bullshit came back to haunt him. Just dropped into the chair across from him like shit hitting the fan, all over the place and not much he could fuckin' do about it other than stare at it. Him. Sitting right across the table.

"Pretty sure we'd see each other in hell, but no, I'm not dead." He immediately pulled out a new cigarette, lighting it and tossing the pack across the table. "Smokes're fresh around here. Shit, Uncle Downer, really bringin' the place, well, down. Yer lucky I already knew nothin' stays dead here."

Inhale, exhale. Breathe. Play it cool enough. Guy cared about Meryl (and Vash, probably) enough that he might play along.

"Meryl made it out. Dunno about Vash." It was the first time he said it out loud. Something clamped shut, kept behind lock and key and forced down and away from his thoughts. JuLai...

"...Neither of 'em remember that. And neither of 'em know yer dead, either." He took a drag off his cigarette, leaning back in his chair and blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Much like the amount of smoke he had been blowin' up everyone's ass.

"Been keepin' my mouth shut, but," He gestures to "rubble apparently ain't a good enough grave." It felt like the truth that had been bubbling below the surface just emerged all at once. He dragged a hand down his face, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

"Fuck."