#g.josie

[containatrocity]

"Well I mean, most of these boxes are just my books- and you've got a bunch of copies of the same books so I was thinking maybe if we're um, okay with consolidating the book collection to like, one copy of most things, we could sell the other books or donate them to the library and-" G pauses, gathering his hair into a bun and tying it off at the top of his head. "Jo. Jo! Focus, baby. Nothing fun happens with me moving in until we've got all the boxes of my stuff off the bed." He reminds, motioning to the pile of well-used cardboard boxes labeled time-and-again by several people relocating around town- many of these with their previous labels scribbled over and marked with "Books." or "Stuff for G's Bass." in his or Edgar's handwriting.

Lenore sits nearby, the cat grooming her paws stretched languidly atop a newly reconstructed, vacant bookshelf, Gabriel's stalwart feline companion not taking his decision to move in with his girlfriend as anything other than the invite to decide someone else's home was hers now too. G stands from his place in the floor, long enough to reel Josie in at the waist for a kiss with tattooed arms- new ink settled against his arms and neck now that his artist wasn't preoccupied with work at the high school. He's not much better than she is, really, they're both excited, easily distracted, and still, somehow, running nearly as hot as they had last Christmas. His grip slacks slightly, hand settled at her lower back. "All I'm sayin' is there's very little space for any ravaging until we decide where to put the boxes somebody insisted we could fit in our bedroom, instead of just making an office space for all the shit I brought over."

@lxvenderhxzehv

[containatrocity]

"I'm clocking ouuuut." G declares, dropping his nametag in his cubby in the staff area of the Food Market and grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. "I'm closing tomorrow, right?" He questions, nodding once he's given the affirmative and sparking up a cigarette once he clears the front doors. It's a relatively short walk from work to his place, to pick up his bass and change his clothes, and then a slightly longer one to Josie's place, but it's always just enough time to get a nicotine fix so he's not smoking around her. It's tattooed fingers rapping at the door for a moment as he checks his timers on his cell phone- he's been slacking on remembering meals again, simply too busy with other things to remember that he should take a few minutes every day to put some fuel in a body he doesn't identify as "G" anyway.

"Jo!? you in? It's G." He calls, stepping back slightly when the door comes open, a lopsided smile on his features, dark hair tied up into a bun and usual sunglasses over blue eyes. "Hey. Sorry I'm late, spilled something on myself while I was helping put out the fresh meat so I had to change while I was home. You still up for lunch?" he questions. "Brought my bass too, just in case we wanna just hang around."

@lxvenderhxzehv

[containatrocity]

"Hey! Josie!" It's a while after spotting her at first that G eventually hustles over to interrupt Josie's conversation, dark hair pulled back into a bun at the back of his head and smile warm, despite the way his costume actively communicates the freezing cold, frostbitten nose and frozen over patches on flannel and jacket- The Shining- it had been easy, once they both knew the other had an affinity for King, to decide on a costume to wear together. "Sorry- I uh, was doing something. You look great!" He's not as nervous, after a little bit of time, tattooed fingers shifting to lace in hers for a moment before pulling her into him, slinging an arm over her shoulders. "I would have met you at your place but I accidentally roped myself into helping move stuff around for the haunted houses. Yanno. because I'm so so very strong." He lifts his free arm in a mock-flex, nothing particularly impressive to show in the action. He leans down, sets a kiss on her temple then her lips softly. "The band's kicking around somewhere, but if Mr. Romero sees Wren he's gonna have a heart attack and I don't wanna watch him kick the bucket." he chuckles. "You got any ideas for what you wanna do for the pumpkin contest?"

@lxvenderhxzehv

[containatrocity]

"...I know! There's a lot more bulbs out on this string than I thought there were gonna be, I guess that's what I get for scavenging stuff from the radio station that KB hasn't used for years huh?" At first, it certainly seems like Gabriel is talking to himself, stood atop a ladder on the front porch of the house he and Josie now share with a number of dusty Halloween decor pieces piled up around the feet. Of course, that's before an answering "Mraow!" comes from a box below, Lenore's fluffy tail flicking absently as she slaps the string on a decorative spider who's missing more than a couple legs. "You're right, I think it gives it a more run down and spooky vibe too, and that's that."

He's so resolutely lost in his work, tangled up in string lights, and his conversation with his cat, that it's with a short squawk of fear- and a tumble off the ladder into a pile of decorations- that he makes any notice of Josie returning from work. "Heeeey babygirl, welcome home!- ow." He doesn't seem too bothered by the fall, groaning and standing to dust himself off. "Hope you don't mind. KB gave me the day off so I uh. decided to get a jump on decorating for Halloween- Though I think some of this stuff hasn't been used since like, the nineties."

@lxvenderhxzehv

[containatrocity]

💭 G @ Josie

"I don't deserve you. I deserve a lot of things, but you're not one of them. Everything I touch rots, just like me. Esther can't stand to look at me- and every thought in my mind insists that I'll get my friends hurt, somehow. Or they'll get tired of me, move on. It's kinda... hypocritical, I guess. I always thought Declan deserved the world even after his accident and he doesn't believe me- But I don't think I deserve a kindness from the world and especially not one that's as good as you. I deserved the death I was given, buried, mocked. And when I surfaced again, I killed my parents. And I know whether or not it was an accident and it was the kind of thing that sends you to hell so why did fate hand me all this good? I don't think a lot about God anymore. If the God my parents insisted upon shoving down my throat exists, then I defy Him. Because I know goodness, and it's in you. in the freaks and the self-professed whores and addicts and single parents clamoring to make the world we inherited work."

"And if you are close to holy- I worry that I'm just the artist clinging to his muse, a painter with his mind set on angels. That you are deserving of so, so much and that I... I'm just G."