Werewolf bar-mitzvah spooky scary!

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Werewolf bar-mitzvah spooky scary!

Who: Jesse Pinkman, Arya Stark, Lark Tennant, Chris d'Amico
Where: Cabin 7-6
When: Sunday
What: With badness looming on the horizon, a boy becomes a monster in the name of love.

Okay, enough is enough. They've put this off because of the closet anti-werewolf brigade, because of the flood, because of the flu... but no more. The Barge is losing pieces again, Halloween is approaching, and as much as he'd rather live non-violently, Jesse Pinkman is sick and tired of not being able to protect his people. If this is ever going to happen, it needs to be now, flu or no flu.

He sends a quick message to the pack, makes sure they're on his special access filter -- Arya obviously already was, but now Lark and Chris need on, too. He sends Izzy off with Lua, along with a promise to keep an eye on Kevin and let him know he and Abigail have the art room. Then he's not really sure what else to do, but he tries to prepare his cabin anyway. He clears a space in the living room, stows his workbench away. As an afterthought, he cleans out Izzy's food and water bowls and refills them, and sets out his toys, too. He'll need those... right?

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Lark comes to him with plenty of water, with the blanket off his own bed, and with pillows. There's really only one item he hasn't managed to get, although in a pinch he can do without.

"Do you have a knife, Jesse?" He asks, as he helps arrange a soft place on the floor. It's hard to read Lark sometimes, but tonight he's bursting with energy and excitement, in a way he hasn't felt in a very long time.

Arya slips in soon after, holding the door open for Nymeria to lumber in after her. She isn't missing this, not for anything; Jesse was her first pack on the Barge, and he's been with her for two years. It's the longest she's had a pack, outside of her family.

"I have one," she offers, closing the door behind the direwolf. Nymeria, for her part, goes to sniff at Lark and Jesse both, checking on them.

Despite not being a full-blooded wolf, Chris still considered himself part of the pack. So when the call goes out, he's ready and waiting. It's getting easier now to yank himself into the wheelchair, as long as he remembers to keep the brakes on so that he doesn't land on the ground and the chair doesn't go skidding across the floor.

Clumsy or not, he's made it in, and is now sitting on Jesse's couch in his living room, looking more or less stoked to be witnessing the occasion. Like Arya, he's not missing this for the world.

"So not surprised you have a knife."

"I've got a knife, yo. I live here. There's a kitchen." His voice is still terribly stuffy and tired-sounding, and he still looks kind of terrible, but that doesn't stop him from eyeballing both of the kids. Especially Arya. Of course she has a knife, but still. Seriously? Here? Now?

He makes for said kitchen, just off the side of the living room, addressing Lark as he goes: "Any particular kind of knife?" There's a telltale opening of cabinets and crinkling of plastic that says that he might not be going only for a knife, and indeed, when he reappears in the doorway he's also got a bag of chips in hand. He tosses them to Chris and holds up a carving knife with some slight trepidation. "What's the, uh, knife for, anyway?"

Lark smiles at him, and takes the knife in one hand. He holds the other up so Jesse can see the long, yellow scar that runs the length of his little finger.

"It's a ritual. We have to share blood." He looks back at Arya, then at Chris, making sure they're both settled in. "Do you have any advice for him, Arya?"

She shrugs at the look and Chris' comment both: of course she's armed, of course she's armed even here. It doesn't matter how long she's been here, it still sounds ridiculous to her to go about without Needle at her belt.

Nymeria settles near the couch, and Arya kneels, leaning on her side, close and ready in case of...anything, she doesn't know. "It's going to hurt," she says, glancing at Lark before her eyes settle on Jesse. "It's going to hurt a lot, but you have to get through it, and then it won't hurt as much. Then you'll run, and smell, and understand everything. Be strong."

"Castration," Chris answers back, catching the chips and opening the bag. "He's gonna cut your balls off, Jesse. It's part of the spay-and-neuter process. No one on this Barge wants puppies."

He debates flopping his knees onto Nymeria's back before settling against it, dropping his head against the back of the couch.

"And you'll be really good at basketball."

Jesse really shouldn't be surprised, probably, because even the movie version involves biting and everything, but he still grimaces at the prospect of slicing himself open, and then at Arya's explanation. He doesn't flinch, he doesn't back down, but he can't help but look nervous. "Okay," he says shakily.

Then Chris opens his mouth and that, really, makes it a lot easier. "Yo, spay this, okay?" He's astute enough to realize that gesturing downwards at this particular moment would not exactly send the correct signal, so he flips him off instead. "Don't be a bitch and make me take the chips back."

Lark doesn't laugh--he's much, much too focused right now--but he is grateful for Chris's barbs, for once. He wonders if his old pack had been half this relaxed together, if perhaps they wouldn't all be dead now.

He settles in front of Jesse on his knees, and sets the knife and a length of rope down.

"You'll want to be naked. When you change, clothes can cause you to panic the first time--your legs get caught in them."

Chris' eyebrows immediately shot up, and it was clear he was suppressing a significant amount of laughter. He hid the chips behind his back and crossed his arms, smirking expectantly.

"You heard the leader, Jesse." He said, still stifling giggles. "Strip tease. Strip tease."

Chris isn't the only one. Jesse's sitting down with Lark, trying not to pay too much attention to the knife, trying not to think about the upcoming pain, but then that turns out to be incredibly easy with what comes out of his mouth next.

"What?" he expulses, astonished, and then lapses into childish whining not a second later: "Come on, yo." There's no other way to describe the boyish, plaintive note in his voice, or the distressed look on his face. How the hell is he supposed to strip down in a room full of dudes and Arya? He hasn't even set foot in a public shower since the day Claire first started letting him use hers.

"This ain't nothing like no werewolf transforming I've ever seen. I mean, can't you just bite me and I'll go all Wolfman, like that dude in that movie, or like-- like even in Harry Potter they just bite someone! Can't you just do that and get it over with? I mean, uh, I'm all for the ritual, whatever, great, you can chant while you do it, Chris can hit a drum, but Jesus."

"Jesse." He pauses, and shoots Chris a look. "If it would make you more comfortable I'm sure Chris and I can come up with something for him to do to take the pressure off of you."

But that's mostly an idle threat. He looks at Jesse, calm as can be again. "Every bone in your body is going to snap and reshape. If you're wearing pants, your legs won't be able to reform. If you're wearing a shirt, it might strangle you, and if you panic, you will try to hurt someone. No one here besides Chris is going to judge you." Hah hah.

Nudity is a little less daunting to Arya, and as the whining goes on, her nose scrunches harder. Naked is naked, and you could fuck or piss or swim or turn into a wolf, but what is the big deal? She rolls her eyes, finally, and shoots her own look at Chris, then Jesse.

"You're going to be a wolf. You don't need clothes."

Chris gets another look. Just in case.

"The fuck are you looking at me for?!" Chris exclaimed in outrage to Arya nd Lark, before settling back down. The thought that Lark might make him strip in order to make Jesse feel more comfortable weighed threateningly in his mind.

"Look, if you're freaked out, just do it behind a bedsheet or something. Like the Amish do, or whoever. Was it the Amish who fucked through a hole in the sheets? I can't remember."

Jesse is definitely freaked out, and despite Arya and Lark's reassurances -- and Chris's very weak attempts at them -- on this point, he still balks. He gets the explanation, he does, and he doesn't want to get hurt or hurt anyone else or, like, die, it's true. He's not even totally sure why he's so freaked out about it, because it's not like he thinks he's got anything to be embarrassed about. He likes the way he looks.

But... it's Arya. It's Arya and two dudes, and there's just a weird line there that he doesn't feel comfortable crossing no matter how hard he tries to picture himself doing it. And try, he does: with another nervous glance around he strips his jacket and shirt off, then kicks off his Cons, the socks with the aliens on them, wriggles out of his baggy jeans... But then he's down to just his Marvin the Martian boxers and his tattoos, and he just can't do it. He swallows, sniffles, rubs at his red nose.

"Could we, um, maybe..." He looks around again, then catches Lark's eyes and nods hopefully towards the bathroom. "There's the, you know, the tile in there and all, anyways..."

It's not, he thinks, an invalid point: the floor in the main room, still modeled off his old garage, is mostly concrete. "This stuff stains."

Lark is partly amused Jesse would worry about stains, but he nods after a moment of thought.

"Bring the blankets in. You'll want a soft place, you don't want to bash your head in during the change." Which has happened before, if Lark's tone is any indication.

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Werewolf bar-mitzvah spooky scary!

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SORRY GUYS HI

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