[ TOO BAD!!!! IT IS THREE!!!!!! AND HE IS JUST A HEAD!!!
But maybe if they had time, he would have listened to it all in this same bar or on a walk. They don't have time... Jacopo doesn't think of it as a last time at least, not with them knowing that the other part of heaven is within reach. There could be some obstacles before they reunite, but in the afterlife there's time.
Maybe next time, whenever that is. It might be soon, so there's nothing to be sad or stressed about he thinks. It's why he raises his eyebrows when he can make out Gabriel's outline. What is there to mourn? Death seems to not be the end.
Still, he's sympathetic even if it's muted and muffled. It's difficult to talk to someone knowing when they leave this confined space that they might die. ]
You know I wasn't pressuring you. [ It was just a bit of sad banter, which might be manipulative. Not his intention, but he got something out of it. ] You have a nice smile.
[ So he wonders... If death waits for him tonight, will he be thinking about the golden wheat fields of a home he doesn't remember and the beating rays from the sun in that clear blue sky? Will he be remembering Morgana, face healed and smile so bright? Would it be other smiles instead, maybe of some people here in Heaven.
So many are bright, kind, and as much as they draw him in, they also terrify him, but he knows death is cold. It's dark. Even when he waited for it with purpose before, it didn't change the nature of its embrace... And human weakness seeks warmth.
(The reality is Jacopo will not picture anyone before he dies. Lucas will be too swift, freeing him from any lasting pain and giving him too short of a moment. Instead, Jacopo will reflect on how he will die an awful man, one who has not suffered enough for all of his sins. His last company will be crippling guilt.)
Even though Gabriel hasn't even taken a sip of their own, Jacopo thinks he has stayed here long enough. He downs his whole drink, then gets off the stool, ready to meet the night of his decapitation. ]
[ yes. and he will be just as devastated that there are three and jacopo is a head!! god!!!! ]
And you called me needy. [ it's a joke that lands flat, even if the light, easygoing expression feels a little forced. reasonably, he knows that the people who die are thrown into a healing area and they're being taken care of.
but that doesn't change what will happen before then. it doesn't change the pain of someone being hunted, fighting for their life, and eventually being killed. it doesn't change being alone in the dark, not knowing if someone will figure out the truth. and maybe that's only a part of what bothers him.
still. as much as he would love to keep jacopo here and maybe just... do something stupid, like hide him somewhere until the morning, anything to try and stop this, realistically he knows he can't. not just because he's powerless, but because jacopo won't let him. he watches as he slides off the stool, his own martini barely touched as he turns to collect the dirty glass. ]
I'll think about it. Maybe next time we meet I will. [ ...he should try to stop him. but he knows better, even if there's some amount of guilt attached to watching him walk away. ] ... good luck.
[ "be careful" goes unsaid, as does "I'm sorry." they're just words, but he thinks the sentiments are expressed enough. ]
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[ TOO BAD!!!! IT IS THREE!!!!!! AND HE IS JUST A HEAD!!!
But maybe if they had time, he would have listened to it all in this same bar or on a walk. They don't have time... Jacopo doesn't think of it as a last time at least, not with them knowing that the other part of heaven is within reach. There could be some obstacles before they reunite, but in the afterlife there's time.
Maybe next time, whenever that is. It might be soon, so there's nothing to be sad or stressed about he thinks. It's why he raises his eyebrows when he can make out Gabriel's outline. What is there to mourn? Death seems to not be the end.
Still, he's sympathetic even if it's muted and muffled. It's difficult to talk to someone knowing when they leave this confined space that they might die. ]
You know I wasn't pressuring you. [ It was just a bit of sad banter, which might be manipulative. Not his intention, but he got something out of it. ] You have a nice smile.
[ So he wonders... If death waits for him tonight, will he be thinking about the golden wheat fields of a home he doesn't remember and the beating rays from the sun in that clear blue sky? Will he be remembering Morgana, face healed and smile so bright? Would it be other smiles instead, maybe of some people here in Heaven.
So many are bright, kind, and as much as they draw him in, they also terrify him, but he knows death is cold. It's dark. Even when he waited for it with purpose before, it didn't change the nature of its embrace... And human weakness seeks warmth.
(The reality is Jacopo will not picture anyone before he dies. Lucas will be too swift, freeing him from any lasting pain and giving him too short of a moment. Instead, Jacopo will reflect on how he will die an awful man, one who has not suffered enough for all of his sins. His last company will be crippling guilt.)
Even though Gabriel hasn't even taken a sip of their own, Jacopo thinks he has stayed here long enough. He downs his whole drink, then gets off the stool, ready to meet the night of his decapitation. ]
Consider shaving.
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And you called me needy. [ it's a joke that lands flat, even if the light, easygoing expression feels a little forced. reasonably, he knows that the people who die are thrown into a healing area and they're being taken care of.
but that doesn't change what will happen before then. it doesn't change the pain of someone being hunted, fighting for their life, and eventually being killed. it doesn't change being alone in the dark, not knowing if someone will figure out the truth. and maybe that's only a part of what bothers him.
still. as much as he would love to keep jacopo here and maybe just... do something stupid, like hide him somewhere until the morning, anything to try and stop this, realistically he knows he can't. not just because he's powerless, but because jacopo won't let him. he watches as he slides off the stool, his own martini barely touched as he turns to collect the dirty glass. ]
I'll think about it. Maybe next time we meet I will. [ ...he should try to stop him. but he knows better, even if there's some amount of guilt attached to watching him walk away. ] ... good luck.
[ "be careful" goes unsaid, as does "I'm sorry." they're just words, but he thinks the sentiments are expressed enough. ]