@naturaltalent said: “❛ hey i get it, you’re here to kill. ❜ / LETS GOOO”
what doesn’t kill you | accepting
Gerry does not want to be here, in this little nothing town to which his mom has dragged him this time—Hawkins, Indiana. He couldn’t even point to Indiana on a map if you asked him to, and he has no idea where it is in relation to one of the big places like New York, just that it’s too far away to hop on a bus and make it there within the day. He remembers one time when they were in the US a couple years back, and he did catch a bus and take it a few towns over to do something for himself and see something fun, unrelated to whatever freaky fuckery she was trying to get him to investigate. He’d gotten in so much shit for that, so bad he thought she might actually kill him that time, and while he had had fun that day, he thought it best not to repeat the incident.
So, he’s stuck here and presently bent on making his chagrin over that fact this girl’s problem.
A cigarette hangs between his scowling lips as he looks the other up and down again, though he’s still got a couple more years before he’s able to smoke it legally. His mom is a little weird in that she is simultaneously hypercontrolling and neglectful at the same time, where she makes extra sure that he gets involved in the Entity shit and sits him at a little table in her bookshop and forces him to absorb her lessons, but other than that, as long as it’s nothing that contradicts his Fear training, she ignores it. As such, she knows about his smoking and has never said anything or done much to curb it. Probably because cancer sticks get him closer to the End or whatever.
He has his arms folded across his chest because that’s the universal symbol of not wanting people to fuck with you—or so he has heard. He is not here to make friends because he is only going to be here for a short time, and then he is going back to London for an equally short amount of time, until his mother gets whatever horrific shit she needs from Hawkins and then until she finds the next monster to chase, respectively.
He uncrosses them just long enough to snatch his cigarette away so that he can say, “I’m not here to k—” But he cuts himself off the second he realizes that he cannot actually say that with any real certainty. She has not asked him to take a life yet, but he knows that she has killed before and likely will again. She never spares the gory details about what she did to his father, and he figures that it’s only a matter of time until she gets him involved in that sort of thing, too. He shudders at the thought and turns his eyes to a nearby tree, where he watches a gray squirrel shimmy up it.
“Whatever. It’s like I said, I’m here for research, so I’m gonna go over it again.” And not any more pleasantly than the first time he asked. “Have you see any weird shit going on around here, or not?”