[It was a stupid question. Almost insulting, really. It should’ve been abundantly clear at this point where he lived. He knew Joseph knew that…one of the downsides to knowin- having known someone as well as Caesar had once had and apparently did again if but for a few stolen hours. He knew that Joseph knew. He knew that Joseph knew. Caesar wanted to pretend like Jojo was confused - that having been awoken from death if but for a few short hours had dazed his brain, muddled his mind - and so he deserved some kind of kind answer with all of the sharp edges rounded away, the sort of answer that would gradually ease him into the magnificent shitshow that his life had become.
But he knew that Joseph knew.
So, instead, he hesitated on the stairs. He spoke quietly, briskly, like a thief in the night trying not to startle any ghosts.]
Don’t be an idiot. [Then, he gestured to the shipping containers below them. Behold, Joseph, behold.] When I first moved I actually lived in one of those…not one of the ones here, Jojo. A different one in a different warehouse. It was terrible, but I told myself that I could use that to hone my edge. That what I returned to night after night would remind me of what’s important and serve to drive me forward.
[There was a pause. (Even now Caesar hadn’t lost his sense of drama and dramatic timing.)] I lasted two weeks, Jojo. Then I woke up to a cockroach crawling up my leg and realized there was limits. Even for a vendetta. I’m upstairs. There’s five rooms: three of them are occupied. Be quiet in the hallway, Jojo, as my neighbors are the…easily excitable kind. I’m not the only one who has unfinished business, and I’m not the only one who doesn’t sleep well. Do you understand?
[Upstairs would be a dirty hallway, with seven doors, each door worn and old and faintly mismatched - they looked alike, but there were two which weren’t exactly the same, implying that at some point a door had been lost but whoever had replaced it had actually taken the effort to try to find something…somewhat close. Maybe. Or maybe it was cheapest. Caesar’s was the furthest to the left, furthest down the hall.]
no subject
But he knew that Joseph knew.
So, instead, he hesitated on the stairs. He spoke quietly, briskly, like a thief in the night trying not to startle any ghosts.]
Don’t be an idiot. [Then, he gestured to the shipping containers below them. Behold, Joseph, behold.] When I first moved I actually lived in one of those…not one of the ones here, Jojo. A different one in a different warehouse. It was terrible, but I told myself that I could use that to hone my edge. That what I returned to night after night would remind me of what’s important and serve to drive me forward.
[There was a pause. (Even now Caesar hadn’t lost his sense of drama and dramatic timing.)] I lasted two weeks, Jojo. Then I woke up to a cockroach crawling up my leg and realized there was limits. Even for a vendetta. I’m upstairs. There’s five rooms: three of them are occupied. Be quiet in the hallway, Jojo, as my neighbors are the…easily excitable kind. I’m not the only one who has unfinished business, and I’m not the only one who doesn’t sleep well. Do you understand?
[Upstairs would be a dirty hallway, with seven doors, each door worn and old and faintly mismatched - they looked alike, but there were two which weren’t exactly the same, implying that at some point a door had been lost but whoever had replaced it had actually taken the effort to try to find something…somewhat close. Maybe. Or maybe it was cheapest. Caesar’s was the furthest to the left, furthest down the hall.]