Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Yeah, 'course." He was reluctant to let go, and she could feel it. "Do yer thing, hun. I'll clean up here. Ain' a happy home 'til ya clean the plates, yeah?" he said with a tentative smile.

A thought occurred to him, and he paused. "Uh, ya mind if I borrow yer charger? Piece a's**t in the basement didn' charge all night n' I've been out all day."

It was sad how much he perked to hear that.

"Aww, that ain't anythin', but thank ya kindly, ma'am," Dawson replied with a tip of his hat, an exaggeration of his already thick accent, and a better smile. It last long enough to get the charger, plug his phone in, and sit at the table to finish his food, and that was that.

He didn't want to think about it, but then again that meant he needed to. He had to clear this up.

"Mind if I ask how ya jumped from Twitter fightin' ta savin' him from a cave?" Dawson asked after a while, when his soup was gone and his tea cup nursed. He'd only noticed the leap in the story after he'd had time to understand the rest, which was slowly pooling into some horrid basin inside he wasn't sure he could contain. His foot tapped quietly, a constant and meaningless morse code that his calm demeanor belied. Not danger, danger, but the danger isn't over.

Dawson turned grim faced. The knots tightened, the tapping switched to the other foot. He drummed the table as if about to announce something, but instead he brought his phone to the length of the charger and turned the screen on.

More messages from Maebe. A scant glance just made it worse inside, but he ignored them for now. His heart could barely take it as it was. He scrolled and scrolled and then backed up until he found the tweets.

"'Sadly, have a lotta duties,'" Dawson read out. "'I'll letcha know when I'm free.'" Scroll. "'Nooo clue, they've got me down fer a lot. I'll letcha know when I can. Smiley face.'"

He put his phone aside and looked at the space between his hands on the table. "I knew somethin' up. I-I did. But I thought, well, hell, maybe he did get busy. Maybe he stressed. Maybe I was buggin' the s**t outta him, n' he was just blowin' me off nice like. Been goin' on n' on fer a while 'bout Mardi Gras, just...'blivious."

He purses his lips, then sucked them in, then let them free to be chewed on from the inside, and then finally looked up. "So yer tellin' me," he asked in a straining voice, "I was talkin' to a monster? I was starin' him righ' in the face n'...n' ya'll pieced it out...N' ya didn' say nuthin' 'cause you didn' want people near Lawrence. O-Okay. Fine. But ya'll...ya'll didn' tell no-one? Ya'll didn' think maybe one'be us wanted t'know what y-you was thinkin'?"

There wasn't accusation in his voice but something more tired, more sorrowful, straddling the line between questions and statements as he plodded on. "Ya'll didn' think maybe we could do somethin' too? Go...p-prep a room in the infirmary, somethin'?" His hands were entrained by his mouth, uncertain of if it needed to be hiding something or just trembling uselessly as they did, his eyes were starting to get brighter. "'Meri, I-I don' give two shits 'bout this Lawrence r' Jan r' whatever his name b-be, but Horace is my friend. I would've helped. We woulda helped. Y-Y-You didn' hafta do this by yerselves...'Meri, you already been through s-so much..."

A watery noise rumbled in his throat but didn't make it to completion. Dawson sank his face into his hands and leaned over the table for a long while, just trying to keep a steady breath. It was just a little mission. I didn't have time for that. Two different people, two different reasons, and yet he heard the same thing: he wasn't important enough to tell. And he knew that in some way already, he already knew he was probably some side character for comic relief in the grand scheme of things, but it didn't hurt any less to be reminded of it.

< Revenge, > Syntyche mused in a quiet hiss. < Hunting more important than rescuing. Catch the prey, release the bait, hail yourself as righteous for prevailing. >

Syn, please, not now. She was flashing back to the chase with Maebe to try and compare the rush that came with pursuit and importance.

His shoulders hunched and his breath hitched. Deep breaths. Don't start making this about you now, Dawson Kimberly Grace, don't start being selfish. This is about them. Don't cry. Crying helps no-one. I will remember you too is a compliment for someone like you, so take it as such.

He heaved a sigh through his nose and dragged his hands past his blotchy face. "I-I stopped someone from gettin' theyself killed," Dawson said in a thick, wavering voice. "I didn' know I was. Just s-saw someone runnin' n' knew there was trouble. Didn' ax questions. Didn' ask fer proof. Y'don' have t-to t'help. Y'don' need t'know errythin'. You...You j-just gotta be there, that's all."

He couldn't sit still anymore. Sniffling, he grabbed his bowl and cup to go clean them in the sink. "If we're friends, 'Meri, then y'gotta trust me too," Dawson added quietly. "Y'just gotta. Not j-just...this, but in errythin' else, okay?"

"Yeah, well..." He tried to hide his stuttering breaths beneath the sounds of the sink and clattering objects. Deep breaths. "Maebe tried t-tellin' me the same. Proper self defense, she said. N' fer what?" He squeezed detergent onto the sponge and began to scrub. "S-So I can sit in the dark n' think s'all okay? So I can invite m'self over again just t'hear another story n'stead've makin' sure you ain' never g-gonna have one like it again?"

Dawson shook his head somberly. "Ya'll're a hurtin' bunch, 'Meri. N' maybe one day I-I'll get some cuts've my own fer tryin'," God knew meeting Maebe was enough to show him the world of darkness some hunters lived in even before he heard about this nightmarish past, "but tha's life, y'know, this our life now. I ain' gonna pretend m'okay with some've the s**t I seen n' heard, but m'not gonna just sit by n' do nothin' either. That ain' what I signed up for. Signed up t'help people, damnit."

He wanted to believe America's opinion was true, that he was a good Moon, but a good Moon--a good anything--didn't keep themselves ignorant. It wasn't a statement he believed was a fact, but rather the goal he'd aspired to be for the future.

With another deep sigh, this time steadier, Dawson put the cup and plate aside to dry and turned to her. His eyes were still irritated from unshed tears, but at least talking and cleaning had helped avoid causing a scene. "Hun, there's always been ugly n' pretty things 'bout people," he said. After a beat, he pointed to himself with a little smile that was determined to chase away the remnants of sorrow he still held. "Some've us just wear the ugly on the outside s'all."

Don't pick up more than you can handle, she said. But then, he thought, he'd be out of a job.

His good cheer from the affection fled him at the question. Dawson tugged his hat uncertainly. Once again he had gabbed a little too much, just as he had to Maebe about Peyton. "You didn' hear it from me," he began, but then he stopped. If America ever ended up broaching the topic with her friend, well, how the hell else would she have found out? The disclaimer was pointless.

"Stuff got bad with her boyfriend n' girlfriend," he explained, wondering if Maebe would get mad he was talking. "'Parently bad enough she pissed Mimsy off on purpose t'get her t'come kill her, n' then I happened t'show up 'fore she got there. She's better now," he added hastily, like there wasn't evidence enough of her existence of that on their phones. "I've been helpin'. I-I think."

He hummed his agreement and then consulted his stomach. "Well, other than Jan's name makin' me have a gag reflex, I think m'okay fer now," he reported. "Errythin' seems t've settled. Thanks, 'Meri." When he eventually went back to his room, he would probably feel sick again for very different reasons, but in the right here and right now he was okay.

When America finished putting up the dishes, he scooped her into another long, wordless bear hug, however, because he couldn't help himself. There dIdn't seem nearly enough for him to do even after listening.

"Was serious 'bout the houswework part too," Dawson said after he put her down. "But ya knew that already, heh. Just say the word n' I'll come runnin'."