PRIVATE MEETINGS

[andexecutioner]

If you'd like to have a private meeting with the Adjudicator, this is where you should go! The Adjudicator is available at almost all hours of the day; just knock and he'll answer.

Comments are screened for privacy; no eavesdropping, that's rude.

Comments

[andexecutioner]

[...Well, this is already more interesting than a lot of conversations he's had in his time, let's put it that way. He doesn't move to drink right away; he does set his dice down after a long moment, picking up the glass and toying with that instead. Giving his hands something to do, really.]

I'd be kind of a bad overseer if I had no idea, wouldn't I?

[bluemeanie]

Well.

[He shifts his positions a bit, placing both his hands on the table, folding them as he speaks.]

...Death from ricin poisoning tends to take place anywhere between 36 to 72 hours after exposure. It has to be happen sometime tomorrow. So, as of tomorrow, I will either be out of here. Or you'll kill me.

Just figured we'd get everything out on the table.

[andexecutioner]

That sounds about right.

[He tilts his head a little at that, really; takes a sip of that drink. It's fuckawful, in his esteemed goddamn opinion, but it could be worse. He supposes.]

It's probably in poor taste to wish you luck, and you probably don't want that from me anyway.

[bluemeanie]

No obvious signs of death. No discoloration of the skin. I'm completely unconnected. It'd be a relatively pointless gesture, wouldn't it?

[You really should have stocked the machine with actual alcohol.]

I did have a suspicion about something, and I was wondering if you could confirm it for me while we're here.

[andexecutioner]

[Well, you know what they say about hindsight.]

Depends on what it is. Whatever it is, I'll hear it; if it's something I can't or won't answer, I'll tell you, but if I can then I don't see why not.

[bluemeanie]

I was dead. Or at the very least...close to death before I came here.

[There's a small amount of silence after that. You could hear a pin drop.]

If these dreams are memories, that's the only logical conclusion.

[andexecutioner]

[He'll glance over at that, though it isn't long before he's returned his attention to the glass; he'll take another drink of it before continuing. Weighing options, really, though at least it doesn't take him long to settle on a decision.]

You were, yeah.

[bluemeanie]

[There's no immediate response in Walter, no rapid-fire change in expression that takes place, outside of a single nod.]

It didn't take much to figure it out. I...needed that extra push.

[Walt comes very close to a sigh, but stops. Stares.]

My wife and child detest me. My brother-in-law is dead because of me. If I'm dead, there's...no doubt I must've figured out a way to secure their financial future. I wouldn't allow myself to pass without doing it. If I'm victorious tomorrow, there's nothing more I can do. Nowhere to go. I'd have no reason to live.

[andexecutioner]

[Juri's expression doesn't falter any at that, though a slight shift does take place; it's gone kind of cold, really, though there's no agitation behind it.]

I'd imagine you're telling me all this for a reason...?

[bluemeanie]

I wanted to thank you.

[...huh.]

[andexecutioner]

[That...well, then.]

...What for?

[bluemeanie]

Your motive.

[He adjusts himself in his seat again. He picks up his drink, and speaks, rationalizing every word both to himself and Juri.]

My legacy - the thing that I've built with my own damn hands. That's all I have left. By threatening that, I suppose that...you've given me motivation. To defend it. To do anything, really. Call it peace of mind, call it cold-hearted murder. Both of them work fine.

I can't have a happy family life, I've come to terms with that. I am well beyond that, as much as I'd love to deny it. But it can't all be for nothing. My work. My struggles. My sacrifices. My empire.

[Walt spins his drink, but his expression doesn't change.]

To the point, I've had an epiphany. If I'm beyond saving, if I can't be remembered as a family man, the grand patron saint nabbed from this great big beautiful life by some terrible disease that a desperate war was waged against. Well, maybe I wouldn't mind being remembered as a devil. It wouldn't be unfitting. To cast silence over rooms with the very mention of "Heisenberg".

[He takes a sip from his drink, finally. He doesn't notice the taste, nor does he particularly care.]

Food for thought.