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[The sound of music is what alerts him to Manolo's presence. Although it's incredibly late, or early really, he supposes it might be his friend couldn't sleep either.

He stands then hesitates a moment before setting aside the eyepatch. Then he looks into the mirror a brief moment before going to the door. He doesn't open it just yet.]

What is it, Manolo?

Edited 2015-10-23 15:39 (UTC)

[His hands still over the strings, and Manolo finds himself at a loss of what to say for a few moments. Finally, he responds in a quiet voice.]

I could ask you the same thing, but I mostly just wanted to see how you were doing.

[Joaquin is quiet first, too, debating on if he could handle this. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt so much to see Manolo as he was through his Eagle Eye but he has to face it. Reality was harsh but necessary to face sometimes, and this wasn't an issue he could hide from forever.

He opens the door and turns his eyes upon Manolo.]

... Well, how does it look like I'm doing?

[He looks like hell. Actually, he kind of looks like he's seen hell, but Manolo knows there's no reason to state the obvious. Instead, he reaches up to lightly touch Joaquin's jaw with a worried frown.]

Your eye. I don't understand why it looks like this. You should still be...

[Alive, he wants to say, but Manolo shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.]

[A skeletal hand reaches up to him and it's a miracle Joaquin is just tired enough to not flinch away. However, the light touch feels normal, flesh fingertips against his jaw, so the illusion is slightly broken if only for a moment.]

I never told you what my ability here is, but this eye... It's all about what this eye can see.

[He sighs. Why does this have to feel like confessing to committing a crime?]

I don't have invincibility like the Medal gave me back home. I don't know where the Medal even is or if it made its way here at all. Instead, all I can do is see things.

[He hadn't even thought to ask about the Medal, figuring Joaquin would have just told him if he'd had it. But it sounds like there are quite a few unsaid things weighing on his friend's shoulders, and now Manolo is keenly aware of the knot forming in the pit of his stomach.]

What...kind of things?

[He's actually a little afraid of the answer, but...that just means it's all the more important to know.]

Dead things. Dead people! Manolo...

[Now his gaze drops away.]

Manolo, you look like a walking corpse when I look at you with this eye. And... anyone else who has died also looks that way.

A walking...?

[When the full meaning hits him, he abruptly jerks his hand back like he's been burned.] I am so sorry, Joaquin, I didn't--

[He didn't know, but now their heated exchange back at the Halloween party makes a lot more sense, and he realizes why his reassurances only seemed to make Joaquin angrier. He can keep saying he's fine until he's blue in the face, but Joaquin will never truly escape the grisly truth of the matter.

He turns his face away for a second, torn between the urge to spare his friend such a horrible sight and his misgivings about turning his back toward the man and his obvious suffering.]

[It wasn't Manolo's fault that Joaquin had been cursed with this ability. Obviously it was some sort of karmic "gift" to make up for how blind he had been back home to the suffering of others. Joaquin had been selfish and now he had to face the most painful sights he could bear. At least, whenever he uncovered his left eye anyway.

He reaches up and rubs at his face. He doesn't want to make Manolo feel guilty too but he can't honestly say it wasn't Manolo's fault either. He had been the one to insist on taking that blast...]

Look, it's... late. I'm tired, you're tired. Maybe we just need to sleep it off. Things will look better tomorrow.

[No, he can't let their conversation end on this note. Even if they don't work out some proper boundaries for future mishaps, Manolo can't bear the thought of Joaquin being left alone with only his dark thoughts for company.]

Wait, hold on...[He pauses a moment, grasping for something to say.] This ability. You just see things, right? It doesn't...affect your other senses?

[Joaquin shakes his head.]

No, not that I've notice so far.

Then...just close your eyes for a second, okay?

[Joaquin looks up, taken aback. But he's in no mood to start a fight or ask questions. Instead, he closes his right eye and covers his left with his hand.]

Okay. Now what?

[After propping his guitar against the wall, he reaches out for Joaquin's free hand, encasing it between his own warm fingers.

Before the man can say anything about it, Manolo gently guides it toward his neck, and eases Joaquin's index and middle fingers against the soft hollow near his Adam's apple. He lets his pulse gently beat beneath his friend's touch, hoping that will somehow make a stronger statement than any words possibly could.]

Listen. [His voice is soft now.] Everyday I wake up with this reminder of how incredibly lucky I am to get not just two chances, but a third. Don't think for a second that I somehow take this for granted, or that I want to squander it on something meaningless. I don't.

[Joaquin isn't sure what's going to happen, but when Manolo takes his hand he feels at ease. He doesn't expect to have that hand pressed to Manolo's neck, but he gets it after a moment.

A heartbeat. A pulse. Alive.]

Manolo... [His own voice is soft, a little gruff from exhaustion.] I just worry... I'm afraid that, that something you do find meaningful will come along and make you do something reckless.

[Manolo grows quiet at that for a moment, because it's something he can't deny about himself. The snake, Chakal...and those were just the two things that actually did him in. He has a whole list of other misadventures that happened well before that fateful Day of the Dead.

But it's not like he thinks of himself as some sort of martyr, or feels like he needs to die in order to do something good for the world.]

...Some people are just worth the risk, amigo. [He lightly squeezes Joaquin's hand.] I think you believe that too.

Yeah, but...

[Joaquin lowers his hand, staring ahead with only his Eagle Eye. In the darkness all he can see is a boney frame.]

... Don't you think you've sacrificed enough, Manolo?

[Manolo gazes back at him. Now that he knows just what Joaquin sees when he looks at his face, there's an added layer to his friend's words.]

I haven't sacrificed more than anyone else I know. [His mother died defending him and his father from bandits. His father died defending San Angel. His cousins laid down their lives for Zapita during the Revolution. A lot of the bullfighters in his family ended up dying in the ring because they believed it was important to carry on the family tradition.

There are countless others with similar stories. At the end of the day, Manolo is really no different, and he knows for a fact that Joaquin was just as willing to give up his life for the village during their fight against Chakal.]

[Joaquin sighs and rubs his face.]

Fair enough. But I don't have to like it.

[He pulls away and goes back into the bathroom to retrieve his eyepatch. Once he has it back in place he turns to face Manolo again.]

I know what you're saying and I get it. But while you're here why don't you just... enjoy what you have, okay? You're not registered and you have your guitar. Just... be the guitarista you always wanted to be.

[Manolo is a little relieved to see Joaquin with the eyepatch again, if only because he doesn't want his friend to be tormented with images he can't control.

He just wishes he could give Joaquin some actual relief without making promises he was sure to break sooner or later.]

I won't go looking for fights, if that's what you mean. [He gives a dry smile.] Believe it or not, I don't have a death wish. I'd much rather play music than get caught in a battlefield, but we're imPorts now, and sometimes those things are gonna overlap.

I know. I know! I just...

[But it was hopeless to say things like "I just want you to be alive and happy." Because Manolo was alive now so he didn't see any problems. And he was happy as long as he was doing what was right. Joaquin just wished he could be that reassured.]

... I just need some sleep.

Okay. [He takes a deep breath, floundering for something else to say, but in the end he just sighs and nods.] Okay...

[He picks his guitar up and starts heading toward the door. Before he leaves, though, he turns toward Joaquin one more time.]

Good night, brother.

Goodnight, Manolo. Try to get some sleep.

Alright. You too. [With one last nod, he slips out into the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind him.]

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