empathicfault | IC Inbox

There's certainly enough to be different; Sweeney's a little older, a little more worn. Longer beard, redder hair that's more generous in its crest, but at his core, he's the same enough that he doesn't even question the name.

He brightens instantly at the sight of the unexpected companion, and even though his body is still screaming at the abuse, there's no hesitation before he comes in. He hunches over to greet the dog while still making room for Will to close the door. Once that's accomplished, Sweeney crumples to sitting on the floor to give proper ear scritches. His focus doesn't lift when he speaks.

"You've been holdin' out on me."

The Irish is there, but it's a bit rounder around the edges than when last they spoke.

Well, Will certainly isn't going to tell anyone to not pet the dog. Winston himself wags his tail harder and leans into the scritches. He's a very settled sort of dog, a lot more stable than Will himself feels right now.

"I wasn't, promise," he says, a bit of laughter in his voice. "Eddie's my warden for the moment. He asked me if there was anything I needed...well. The dogs came up. This one's Winston, from the other life I remember."

Will does remember Sweeney, at least a little, when they first met during the flood. It's kind of been overtaken, but he knows the accent was thicker. Will suspects he probably sounds a little different, too- if only due to the way he holds himself. He's got more confidence, in this life. He had to, or he wouldn't have survived.

He realizes how to describe the comparison best, and laughs to himself. "You know, I had a whole pack there? I picked up every stray I found. I'm sure you're surprised."

The word 'warden' makes for a mental stutter, and Sweeney's able to connect to the present more firmly. He wasn't completely gone, but the bleed has been bad since he woke up.

"Completely." It's said so dryly, it's just missing the eye roll to edge on the dramatic familiarity of brotherly affection. Only then does he look back up to Will, though his hands linger on Winston.

"Give it a bit. This shit fades fer most folk." He's trying to offer some comfort.

"B'comes like...a dream or somethin'." Sweeney abandons the thought with a tight shake of his head.

"Ain't like that fer me, but I'm an outlier."

An outlier with a Curse.

Will looks up at Sweeney, staring at him and really trying to see what he's about, what he means about being an outlier. It's too much, still, but he can see Harkin in there. It's a bit of an anchor for him.

Will sits down next to Sweeney, cross-legged, and gives Winston a couple of appreciative pats. "Can you tell me something about it? About your outlier-ness? I know you're- pretty sure you're not human. At least not here."

He'd tried not to pry before, but before Harkin wasn't related. So maybe he's overstepping, but he's not going to feel bad about it now.

Well, it was bound to happen eventually; it's not like Will can read the ledger. Sweeney's not avoiding the rest of the questions. He just needs to get the first answer out of the way, whether it comes with some clever response or plain confusion. He's very straight about it.

"I'm a Leprechaun."

Will frowns and his brows knit. He looks at Sweeney with his mouth open, then frowns again- but more thoughtfully this time. Huh.

"That...actually explains some things," he says, looking a little stricken. "You're a- a legend? Like, in the literal sense?" It's a guess, going off the veritable smear of imagery Will seems to get off of Sweeney. He's not sure how that would work, but it feels like he's on the right track.

"Bells an' whistles," he confirms with a tilt of his head. With a flick of his fingers, he produces an archaic, roughly pressed coin with solar motifs, and offers it to Will for inspection. He remains very casual about the whole thing.

"Legends if ya wanna use that word. I tend ta keep it ta Stories." A corner of his lips curls, but no smile reaches his eyes.

"Makes fer lower expectations." He shrugs a shoulder.

"I've been a lotta things b'fore what I am, and another bunch since bein' here. If it's Believed ta be True, it is. So..." Sweeney looks up, trying to come up with a simpler way to put it.

"Basically, I'm all the things I've been. Which is why I don't get ta have that dream part. Harkin was me, so he is me."

If that makes any fucking sense. It's obvious he's open to questions. It's weird as fuck. Especially for a human. A human that's going through his own shit.

Will takes the coin and looks it over, very interested in the sun motif. He huffs out a bit of a laugh when Sweeney talks about 'Story' versus 'Legend'- yeah, Will could see why he might want to go with that. He holds the coin back out for Sweeney to take.

And that was a lot of sharing, especially for someone who's part-Harkin, so Will decides to take over from there. "So when I was talking to you...before the Breach. I kept thinking my-" Ugh, he never knows what to phrase it as. "-condition was misfiring. Usually, it can be kind of a lot, especially if someone's not very clear with themselves on what they want, but- this was different. Sharp cuts. Different lives...I'm not explaining well." He shakes his head. "What I mean to say is, that makes sense."

He's silent for a moment, and Winston 'ruffs' quietly, politely asking for more pets from the two of them. Will obliges and continues. "I, uh, my condition is kind of that for humans. I tend to tug on other people, hold onto their lives and their selves. So we're not sure how long it might really take to fade. Probably a lot longer. Especially since I...don't want to lose my brother."

He sighs a bit and smiles wanly at Sweeney. "Can I call you Harkin? Is that...overstepping? Do you need the distance?" Because part of Will doesn't want it. He's had to force distance too much in his life.

Sweeney takes the coin, and it promptly vanishes again with a roll of his fingers. He isn't thinking about it, he's listening to Will intently. Nothing about his 'condition' seems cut and dry, but there's enough pieces to make a watercolor. It's not like 'human' has any one meaning here. Some are magicians or afflicted with visions. This isn't that different. The inquiry is met with a shrug of his head.

"Fine by me. Pretty much anythin's better than Sweeney." Except for Shuibhne.

"Ain't like yer gettin' rid'a Pup."

He owns his flaws. And really, he likes the idea of getting to keep a brother. Things were closer with Fitz now, undeniably. But it isn't like that. Of course, Will wasn't his twin either.

Sweeney exhales through his nose, faintly amused.

"Normally it's me that's gettin' the distance requestin'." From Tiffany. He'd learned from his struggle with her, and has been upfront with people since. Of course, he has yet to have had another soulmate written for him. Sweeney shoves away any thought of Dead Wife.

"Ain't gonna bother me, us bein' familiar." Read: yes, that would be nice but there's no fucking way I'm going to say that out loud, even to you.

"But I gotta warn ya; I'm Harkin, but I ain't only him. There's gonna be days when it's harder ta see him in me. An' days I get confused. Shit bleeds. It's a whole thing." He sighs as his eyes slip beneath their lids.

Will had been trying to be somewhat careful with his expressions, but being called Pup again gets a genuine smile of relief out of him. He'd been ready to shut away all of it if he absolutely had to- he knows Malcolm would probably prefer that. But it's not what he wants.

There's enough Harkin in 'aint' gonna bother me' that Will can translate it instantly, and he smirks a bit even as his brother (semi-brother? whatever) tries to warn him off. "Hey, at least whatever bleeds is going to actually be you still. I don't get that most of the time."

He looks far more comfortable now, deciding that they've settled this issue and getting comfortable with the situation. "I've been worried that I'm going to end up as some...messy amalgam of Barge personalities. I've already been having what I assume are other people's nightmares. That's- that's just to say that I think I'll understand. I should, anyway."

He takes a breath, lets it out as if blowing out smoke. "It was Addy that took care of us both, right? I don't...remember a lot at the end, there. I know she found me, though."

'Should' is a welcome idea, but Sweeney isn't going to hold his breath or hold it against Will if he comes up short; there are too many complicating factors here. He's preparing to explain some of the more unpleasant memories and situations that have been forced on him when Will brings up one of the worst of all.

His body tenses instinctively at the thought of Addy, the warmth and companionship there. The trust. And how that instantly overlaps with Dead Wife calling him a bitch and a coward and a whore. About her holding him four feet off the ground by his balls, threatening to shuck them like peas. They ache in the memory.

There's a twitch in his lips, and he licks them to help him focus his answer.

"She did."

Sweeney swallows, knowing he should get ahead of this, because while they can be brothers, they won't be that makeshift family.

"Her an' me, it's complicated."

That's a gross understatement, but by the sound of it, he's already giving Will more that he would to anyone else.

He knew the topic was going to be tough, which is why he wanted to bring it up early and then not think about it afterwards. But there's more going on than just that. He can practically see the warring emotions on Sweeney's face.

"Didn't even know she was on the boat, to be honest," he admits, with a small shrug. "I'll keep that in mind. Good to know what happened, though."

He leans back, using his hands to hold himself up on the floor. Might as well follow up that untouchable topic with something else that's uncomfortable, huh? "Sebastian's here, too. He's...the one that infected me, pretty sure." He doesn't think he'll ever stop feeling sorry about spreading it to Harkin. Even in his deterioration, he held onto the emotion.

"Don't know who that is," he admits frankly.

"Either place."

It's not a big deal; Sweeney isn't one to go out of his way to meet people, and a lot of passengers are the same about that shit. But he understands this dude's important to Will in some capacity, so it matters now.

Will lets out a small, surprised laugh. "From when we were kids. It's okay, I didn't talk about him much. Don't think you liked him. It...probably doesn't matter. Just- I wasn't careful enough and-"

He stops for a moment and rubs his eyes. "You might not need to hear it, but I need to say it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to him. I should've submitted myself for testing, or quarantined. Something. My stupid mistake got us both killed, and it feels like dumb luck that we're actually here to talk about it."

Sweeney's quiet for a while, his gaze focused on Winston as the wheels turn. He doesn't do great with apologies, though receiving is better than giving, he supposes. At length, he presses his lips and parts them with his tongue.

"Makes fer a better Story."

And at the end of things, that's all breaches are. Fuck, what this whole fucking boat is.

"Adm'ral's gotta thing fer those."

The subtext is simple: It's not your fault. I don't hold it against you.

Edited (Additional text) 2023-03-20 20:13 (UTC)

Will's experience with forgiveness (at least in one of the lives he remembers) is complicated. So he wasn't sure how this would go, and was ready to accept just about anything. This? Yeah, this is a good outcome. And all told, he really did just need to get it out.

The mention of the Admiral has him raising an eyebrow, though. "Does he, now?" It puts to mind some things he should think about for later, maybe ask Shaw about. But for the moment, he looks almost relaxed. "Well, next time I hope I'm a little less incompetent. I already learned the hard way not to let my bleeding heart guide me- really didn't need another lesson."

He looks back over to Sweeney, a small smile on his face as he nods towards both him and the dog. "Winston likes you already, Hark. You don't need it, but- want some jerky for him?" He's already pushing himself up off the floor to get to his jar of 'treats' for the dogs. He's done with difficult topics for now, honest.

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