It does take K an hour to make it back to the Up and to let Mango out to go to the bathroom, first, and to change out of his gym clothes.
Then he's showing up out front of the building, texting Drake that he's there instead of taking Mango all the way up only to bring her back down again immediately. He lets her play on a small square of grass at the end of the slack on her leash while he waits, expression held carefully blank and calm.
Drake comes down with Sable a couple minutes later, an assortment of toys in a bag over his shoulder.
"Hey," he greets K, noting that the other man is already bracing himself. Great. This is gonna suck, isn't it? And there's no point in putting on his own mask even if he wanted to, because K would be able to tell that he's upset anyway. He does smile at the dogs' obvious excitement when they see each other, though -- no hiding that. "Wanna take them to the park?"
It's true that K takes one look at Drake's face and - well, it wouldn't be obvious to or in most people, probably, but in K the way he shores himself up is distinct to those who have spent enough time around him to see what he looks like when he's relaxed.
Mango doesn't notice. She starts barking at Sable in excitement the moment she sees her, lunging at the end of the leash to reach her, and ignores K's low calling of her name for once. He does pull her back a bit so poor Sable doesn't get a ball of puppy directly to the face, but a moment later the younger of the dogs is playbowing so hard she almost falls over.
"Yes," K agrees and calls Mango again as he turns that way. No sense in punishing the dogs because he assumes he's done something wrong.
"It's okay, K. This is how they learn, Sable won't hurt her," Drake reassures the other man, leading them over to an open patch where the grass hasn't been reseeded for spring yet. Usually he and Harley set the dogs loose in the Down where nobody cares about landscaping, but this'll be fine.
He lets the leash go slack, watching the introductions carefully -- this isn't the part of the meeting he's stressed about. Honestly, it's easier to have this conversation with the girls to monitor. There's a little breathing room to figure out how to start, too. K doesn't seem like the type he should just rip the bandaid off with.
"...I know you only signed with me because Jesus asked you to. But I hope it's been okay? I want you to feel as comfortable with me as anybody, someday."
K knows that what obedience Mango has already - and, for a puppy her age, she's very eager to please and very quick on the uptake - it only goes so far. He has no idea how she compares to other dogs but he knows when he can only expect her to pay attention to Sable instead of to him, and he lets Mango have as much of her leash as she can, too.
He glances sidelong at Drake when he registers what he's being told, brow furrowing faintly.
"That's not the only reason I signed," he says, and looks down at where the leash disappears into his coat pocket with his hand. "But you've done everything you promised. It's been... nice."
There's something troubling though, something filling Drake with dread and with sadness and with turmoil. K means what he says, but it's cautious nonetheless.
"It's the only reason I knew," Drake replies softly, though he doesn't ask what the others might be. There's no need to. "I'm glad. You deserve nice, for a change."
He means that. He's always liked K, even just from their meetings in the hall, and hearing it helps. Knowing the other man has a nice place for him and his pets, as much freedom as they can get away with... that helps. If K decides to bail because of this in two months' time, Drake's glad he could help a little bit for a little while.
"I needed you to hear from me first that Jesus and I aren't resigning," he finally says, his previously warm tone several degrees cooler by necessity. Carefully neutral sounding to most people, but K's perception will pick up that this is why he's upset. "You guys will have to be more careful with sleepovers again, and I get it if you wanna switch to whoever he does when we're up? But on my end it doesn't change anything between you and me."
K is about to tell him that he signed because Jesus trusts him, because K can see that he does - that he cares for him, that he feels safe with him. Yes, Jesus asked him and yes, Jesus promised K wouldn't be alone with whatever happened, but there are other thing that went unsaid.
And he has to do something. He has to sign with someone. He has to avoid prison again somehow, and he has to start believing what everyone he trusts is telling him sometime.
He doesn't get that far. He doesn't stiffen, not really, but every last bit of movement in his frame right down to his breathing slows to a stop and he stays motionless for three, four, five seconds after Drake is done talking.
Then, quietly, his eyes on the grass he asks, "What happened?"
There it is. Drake sighs unhappily at the question, because he knew it was coming and he doesn't have a good answer. It'd be easy to tell K to just go ask Jesus, but that's not fair to either of them. And it's not him.
"I think he got scared. Not of me exactly, just--" he shakes his head, hesitating. Uncertain for a moment how much he should say that's his opinion versus what Jesus actually told him. "A couple nights ago he said he loved me, today he was saying he needs to find somebody he doesn't. To make sure we're safe? Maybe it'll make more sense when he explains it to you, I was... really caught off guard."
K doesn't start moving again - not really, not anymore than he tensed when he stopped. But something shifts at the corners of his eyes, something softens and saddens, and then he breathes in and tucks it safely away behind the kind of bland expression that kept him the safest back home.
"He struggles with that," K says simply. Softly. Jesus has never said as much of course, but K sees more than people want him to see. K saw the hesitation every time Jesus was feeling too much pleasure and had time to think about it; every time he tried to tell K anything important, which sometimes he overcame and sometimes he didn't.
He always knew. He'd started to trust what he was being told more than what he knew, what he saw, because after all he can't actually read minds - only the strongest emotion in the moment, and maybe, maybe -
"...I know he does. What I don't know is why I thought I could be enough for him to stay anyway. I thought he was happy."
Drake sniffs and shifts his weight, pulling a rope toy out of the bag on his shoulder and offering it to the dogs to play with -- they're wrestling well so far, but he can tell that Sable is getting unhappy with Mango's tiny puppy needle teeth nipping at her ears. Once they start playing tug with that instead he straightens back up and looks at K again, sounding a little more composed.
"Maybe he'll change his mind," he muses, though there's not actually any hope in it. Just wishful thinking. "Worst thing I coulda done was hold on, you know? Make him feel guilted or trapped. But obviously it affects you too."
K doesn't know that for a fact, of course; he has no idea what Drake and Jesus talked about, besides him. But he knows what Jesus told him and he knows what he looked like when he said it, knows he believed it. Knows he wanted so badly for K to believe it - badly enough that K did.
He doesn't bother feeling stupid; he verified everything he heard, just like he was created to do, just like he was supposed to because what he learned with his Voight-Kampff mod was not just who was a replicant and who was human. He learned that humans lie all the time, and most of all to themselves.
Nothing Drake says requires a response. K watches the dogs playing, and doesn't answer.
Neither of them can really know it, but that's just how relationships go. Even for actual psychics, which they're not.
For a minute they're both just watching the dogs, Drake waiting in case K is going to say anything else... he doesn't. That's worrying. Not surprising, just not a great sign.
"K?" he prompts, tipping to the side to very gently bump shoulders with the other man. "Can you tell me what you're feeling?"
Brushing against K's shoulder is a bit like brushing against a brick wall; he doesn't so much as sway, giving something for Drake to rebound straight off of again. He doesn't jump or flinch, though he does lift his chin a bit, does square his shoulders slightly on the other side of the contact.
Both hands are still in his pockets. Can he tell the other man what he's feeling?
Does it matter? When has it ever, except to prove he's stepping too far outside of his own bounds?
"I don't have names for a lot of them. Only special, living, real things have names."
Well, that can't be a good sign either. Drake's brow furrows worriedly at the lack of response to his friendly nudge, and although K's reply starts off alright it quickly descends into 'uh oh' territory.
"I'm gonna need you to break that down for me, man. 'Cuz you're absolutely all of those things, at least to me, or else I wouldn't be asking in the first place. And there wouldn't be any feelings to have names for, right?"
"Okay." It's not his place to argue, and he doesn't particularly want to anyway; what's the outcome then? He can see Drake means that. He can see he's concerned, can see that yes, in this moment he's real, that there's space for feelings, whatever those are.
And then what? How many months will it take for Drake to rationalize something else to himself, something that means he has to step back from K for K's own good? What will happen with their contract then? Which will give first?
Now Drake's just confused on top of the worry, which he figures probably wasn't K's intention.
"...I was hoping you could help me understand where you're at, that's all." They're going to have to back up a little if K's feeling dismissed, because Drake knows that's a mistake he's made before and still isn't sure how to fix. "I'm sorry. Can I try again?"
Anger, he realizes almost distantly. That's definitely in the mix, even as he reflexively smooths it over with calm because angry replicants make everyone around them anxious. It doesn't come naturally to him anyway, not really, and he does his very best to set it aside.
Hurt, he supposes, at the root of that anger. Loss, and a kind of grief that never really healed, that has no bottom and no way out, that will drown him if he lets it and he can't even see the shape of it. No one likes any of those in a replicant either though, so. Calm it is.
"I don't think there is a 'supposed to' for any of this," Drake admits, "especially when you're not used to letting yourself express things in the first place."
He has to think for a moment, because that isn't a convenient answer but he does want to offer K somewhere as a starting point. What comes to mind is, once again, a question.
"Do you know why I wanted to be the one to tell you? Even though you're gonna talk to him too, and why I'm asking you what you're feeling?"
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text 3/17, afternoon
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I can meet you here or somewhere else?
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I can do that. Give me an hour.
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Thanks. I'll see you in a bit.
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Then he's showing up out front of the building, texting Drake that he's there instead of taking Mango all the way up only to bring her back down again immediately. He lets her play on a small square of grass at the end of the slack on her leash while he waits, expression held carefully blank and calm.
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"Hey," he greets K, noting that the other man is already bracing himself. Great. This is gonna suck, isn't it? And there's no point in putting on his own mask even if he wanted to, because K would be able to tell that he's upset anyway. He does smile at the dogs' obvious excitement when they see each other, though -- no hiding that. "Wanna take them to the park?"
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Mango doesn't notice. She starts barking at Sable in excitement the moment she sees her, lunging at the end of the leash to reach her, and ignores K's low calling of her name for once. He does pull her back a bit so poor Sable doesn't get a ball of puppy directly to the face, but a moment later the younger of the dogs is playbowing so hard she almost falls over.
"Yes," K agrees and calls Mango again as he turns that way. No sense in punishing the dogs because he assumes he's done something wrong.
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He lets the leash go slack, watching the introductions carefully -- this isn't the part of the meeting he's stressed about. Honestly, it's easier to have this conversation with the girls to monitor. There's a little breathing room to figure out how to start, too. K doesn't seem like the type he should just rip the bandaid off with.
"...I know you only signed with me because Jesus asked you to. But I hope it's been okay? I want you to feel as comfortable with me as anybody, someday."
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He glances sidelong at Drake when he registers what he's being told, brow furrowing faintly.
"That's not the only reason I signed," he says, and looks down at where the leash disappears into his coat pocket with his hand. "But you've done everything you promised. It's been... nice."
There's something troubling though, something filling Drake with dread and with sadness and with turmoil. K means what he says, but it's cautious nonetheless.
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He means that. He's always liked K, even just from their meetings in the hall, and hearing it helps. Knowing the other man has a nice place for him and his pets, as much freedom as they can get away with... that helps. If K decides to bail because of this in two months' time, Drake's glad he could help a little bit for a little while.
"I needed you to hear from me first that Jesus and I aren't resigning," he finally says, his previously warm tone several degrees cooler by necessity. Carefully neutral sounding to most people, but K's perception will pick up that this is why he's upset. "You guys will have to be more careful with sleepovers again, and I get it if you wanna switch to whoever he does when we're up? But on my end it doesn't change anything between you and me."
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And he has to do something. He has to sign with someone. He has to avoid prison again somehow, and he has to start believing what everyone he trusts is telling him sometime.
He doesn't get that far. He doesn't stiffen, not really, but every last bit of movement in his frame right down to his breathing slows to a stop and he stays motionless for three, four, five seconds after Drake is done talking.
Then, quietly, his eyes on the grass he asks, "What happened?"
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"I think he got scared. Not of me exactly, just--" he shakes his head, hesitating. Uncertain for a moment how much he should say that's his opinion versus what Jesus actually told him. "A couple nights ago he said he loved me, today he was saying he needs to find somebody he doesn't. To make sure we're safe? Maybe it'll make more sense when he explains it to you, I was... really caught off guard."
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"He struggles with that," K says simply. Softly. Jesus has never said as much of course, but K sees more than people want him to see. K saw the hesitation every time Jesus was feeling too much pleasure and had time to think about it; every time he tried to tell K anything important, which sometimes he overcame and sometimes he didn't.
He always knew. He'd started to trust what he was being told more than what he knew, what he saw, because after all he can't actually read minds - only the strongest emotion in the moment, and maybe, maybe -
But no. "I'm sorry."
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Drake sniffs and shifts his weight, pulling a rope toy out of the bag on his shoulder and offering it to the dogs to play with -- they're wrestling well so far, but he can tell that Sable is getting unhappy with Mango's tiny puppy needle teeth nipping at her ears. Once they start playing tug with that instead he straightens back up and looks at K again, sounding a little more composed.
"Maybe he'll change his mind," he muses, though there's not actually any hope in it. Just wishful thinking. "Worst thing I coulda done was hold on, you know? Make him feel guilted or trapped. But obviously it affects you too."
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K doesn't know that for a fact, of course; he has no idea what Drake and Jesus talked about, besides him. But he knows what Jesus told him and he knows what he looked like when he said it, knows he believed it. Knows he wanted so badly for K to believe it - badly enough that K did.
He doesn't bother feeling stupid; he verified everything he heard, just like he was created to do, just like he was supposed to because what he learned with his Voight-Kampff mod was not just who was a replicant and who was human. He learned that humans lie all the time, and most of all to themselves.
Nothing Drake says requires a response. K watches the dogs playing, and doesn't answer.
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For a minute they're both just watching the dogs, Drake waiting in case K is going to say anything else... he doesn't. That's worrying. Not surprising, just not a great sign.
"K?" he prompts, tipping to the side to very gently bump shoulders with the other man. "Can you tell me what you're feeling?"
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Both hands are still in his pockets. Can he tell the other man what he's feeling?
Does it matter? When has it ever, except to prove he's stepping too far outside of his own bounds?
"I don't have names for a lot of them. Only special, living, real things have names."
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"I'm gonna need you to break that down for me, man. 'Cuz you're absolutely all of those things, at least to me, or else I wouldn't be asking in the first place. And there wouldn't be any feelings to have names for, right?"
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And then what? How many months will it take for Drake to rationalize something else to himself, something that means he has to step back from K for K's own good? What will happen with their contract then? Which will give first?
"What would you like to disprove to me first?"
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"...I was hoping you could help me understand where you're at, that's all." They're going to have to back up a little if K's feeling dismissed, because Drake knows that's a mistake he's made before and still isn't sure how to fix. "I'm sorry. Can I try again?"
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Anger, he realizes almost distantly. That's definitely in the mix, even as he reflexively smooths it over with calm because angry replicants make everyone around them anxious. It doesn't come naturally to him anyway, not really, and he does his very best to set it aside.
Hurt, he supposes, at the root of that anger. Loss, and a kind of grief that never really healed, that has no bottom and no way out, that will drown him if he lets it and he can't even see the shape of it. No one likes any of those in a replicant either though, so. Calm it is.
"Where am I supposed to be at? With any of this?"
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He has to think for a moment, because that isn't a convenient answer but he does want to offer K somewhere as a starting point. What comes to mind is, once again, a question.
"Do you know why I wanted to be the one to tell you? Even though you're gonna talk to him too, and why I'm asking you what you're feeling?"
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