'We need this!' • SPOILERS FOR IRON LUNG • parody/rp account • unaffiliated with Iron Lung Productions • please interact • //ooc
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Feb 18
"Honestly, if I was in charge, you 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 know more"
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David looks away, Dow can see the shine of tears forming in his eyes while he tries to blink them away.
"I'm sorry—" his voice cracks and he can't say any more
Dow looks up at him. His eyes look glazed and tired. He tilts his head curiously at David, but doesn't audibly prompt him.
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David takes a deep breath and slides down the wall onto the floor. His arms rest on his knees and his head dips. He can feel the blood dripping down his face.
He reaches for the flask in his jacket...
It's already empty.
Jack just silently stands in the doorway for a while before eventually moving to find the gun, putting it in his belt.
"Some fuckin' /nerve/ askin' me fer a favor." He's lucky Jack doesn't want him dead.
And with that, he's going to be taking his leave.
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David opens his mouth.
'I love you' rests on the tip of his tongue.
He doesn't feel like he deserves to feel it. Not after making Dow hurt like this.
So he shuts his mouth and bites his tongue.
"But losing *two* people I care about is just too much. Even if one is the reason the other is gone. It's selfish of me, maybe. But I don't hate you. I can't."
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David takes a deep breath and nods shallowly.
"Then do me a favor and take the gun with you... before I do it myself." David requests.
"Ya don't deserve the easy way out, that's fer damn sure."
Jack's moving to the door now, hands clenching and unclenching. He pauses inside the doorway, glancing back over at the other.
" 'sides, /I'm/ not gonna take it upon myself to kill someone and not tell anybody."
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David nods solemnly.
"So why not me...?" He asks quietly
He gestures vaguely with his hand.
"Yeah. Everything. This stupid place, the COI, Eden, the whole world that's left."
He grates the statement out through his tears. His voice comes off cold and empty, terrifyingly so. None of the usual dark humor or snark, just utter *nothing*.
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David takes labored breaths, watching the gun get tossed away. Eyes locked on it before he looks back at Jack. His eyes don't even look like they reflect light anymore.
"don't I deserve it?" He mumbles, looking down again. Blood drips from his nose, he slumps against the wall.
Jack's hand was bloody as he took the gun, a mix of both his and David's.
He stares at it for a moment before tossing it aside with a scoff.
"To make /me/ feel better, or an easy way out so you don't have ta live with the guilt?"
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David is bruised and a little bloodied. Jack might've broken his nose, his lip is split, his eye is black, and he's a little dazed.
He slowly unholsters his gun, he holds it by the barrel, the handle to Jack
"...make it fair... If it'll make you feel better..." He offers softly
Jack's using the opportunity to use one arm to grab the front of David's shirt, pinning him against the wall.
Silence as he stares, nothing but pure hatred in his eyes.
And then, he's back to punching. Only a few more times before he finally stops, arms falling to his sides.
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"Everything else?" David asks softly
"...I don't hate you." He says hoarsely, after a long silence. He doesn't look up from his spot.
"If I didn't believe you, the story might be different. But I *do* believe you."
His voice chokes. He's just sobbing into the trash can now.
"I hate *everything* else now, though."
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David keeps retreating under the blows until his back hits the wall. His guard falls a little bit. He doesn't say anything. He deserves this.
The punches just keep coming, a pause after each word so he could throw one.
"So ya just fuckin /off/ her?! Without even /thinkin'/ about mentionin' it to /anyone/?!"
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David waits patiently. He feels like he has a lump in his throat. He's struggling to justify it to himself, he doesn't know how to justify it to him.
He sits there for a time, just hunched over the trash can. He doesn't throw up, just stares hollowly into the bin. There seems to be something he wants to say, but he can't manage the words right now.
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David tries to block it and moves back further. He doesn't want to hurt anyone else.
"She couldn't bear to suffer anymore... She was stubborn. She would've found a way! You 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that!" David tries to argue.
"Or, here's a fuckin' idea-" He moves forward again, taking another swing at the man.
"Ya could have just /not/ let her do that /either/!"
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David passes him the trash can. He doesn't try to comfort him this time. He assumes Dow doesn't want it from 𝘩𝘪𝘮. Not right now. He doesn't say anything, he just leans onto his desk with his eyes turned towards the floor.
He's quiet at first.
"No, I can *tell* that it's eating you up." He says, voice cracking a bit, "But... You did what you assumed was the right thing."
He retches a bit, trying not to vomit on the floor.
"I just... I just..."
He sits down on the floor, back against the wall.
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David grunts and stumbles back, putting his arms up to protect himself, but he doesn't even try to fight back.
"It was either I shot her or she slit her own throat and bled out!" He explains. "Isn't the gun kinder?"
Jack's response to that is to rush forward and swing, fist colliding with David's head /hard/.
A shaky breath.
"You /fucker/."
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"Do you think I would be hiding here if I didn't miss her? If I don't hate that I killed someone I cared about?
𝘈𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯?"
He stays silent.
"If I didn't, she was going to do it herself... Couldn't bear to see her suffering like that anymore... Not because of me."
He gulps. Hard. Clearly trying to maintain his composure.
"...She *was* sick. Wasn't she?"
He puts his hand over his face.
"I believe you. I do. You wouldn't do it without a damn good reason. But..."
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David refuses to make eye contact.
"She asked me to..." David explains quietly.
He didn't really need to. There was only one thing that came to mind that David could be sorry about.
A look of anger comes onto Jack's face, hands balling into fists.
"You /didn't/." The words were trying to convice himself he was wrong more than anything.
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"It was a mercy..." David explains softly.
"She wanted me to."
He freezes in his spot. Just... staring at him, as if dissecting him visually.
"...Why?" He asks, barely above a whisper.
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David lowers his with a sigh. He's quiet for a moment.
"I... I think you know, Dow..."
"Christ, David, stop fucking around with that thing." He urges worriedly.
His gaze lands on the weapon, then back on his face. It's like something clicks in that instant.
"...David?" He echoes, "What's going on?"
There's an uncharacteristic edge to his tone.
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David twirls the gun in his hand. The safety's on because he can't stop fidgeting with it
He slips into the office, fidgeting.
"Why?" He asks, his tone full of dread.
His eyes land curiously on David.
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"You can come in... But I don't think you're going to want to talk..." David states
Dow furrows his brows.
"You've been locked in here forever." He says softly, "I'm starting to worry. I know the situation is shit, but..."
He puts his hand against the door.
"Can I come in? Do you need somebody to talk to?"
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