[ Tuesday... the day everyone used to hear the Balladeer's voice over the intercom, then be treated to a song or... a lie, in last week's case. Hans had known "the mole" wouldn't be killing anyone. He'd kept the ruse up for so long it's almost strange to have made it here, in the show, instead of... him. (The Balladeer, for those of you just tuning in.)
In the morning, Hans stops by the Merchandise Booth one last time—he would have hoped for a weapon once upon a time, but the bunch of stuff he gets isn't bad either, given the cold. I mean, he leaves the Tony and the boots and junk (he isn't even going to touch the rope,) but one particular item catches his eye: a brown bomber jacket, tucked almost haphazardly under his own winter coat.
Hans pulls the unfamiliar jacket from the pile. The style isn't exactly familiar to him, and the smell of gunpowder doesn't exactly bring back fond memories, but... look, Hans spent a lot of the last week with the Balladeer, and even more during the month they'd spent here. He'd know that smell anywhere. ]
What the hell is this...?
[ He holds it up, runs his hands over the lining and holds it close for confirmation. It's definitely the Balladeer's jacket. It smells just like him, gunpowder and all. But the Balladeer was gone now, he'd never get to see it, never get to wear it.
For a moment, Hans doesn't know what to do. He stands there, thinking about all the things he could have said to the Balladeer before he died, all the ways he made the weeks here bearable, how he'd changed his life for good just by being there.
But he's gone. The Management killed him. And Hans, for all that he may not have pulled the trigger, for all that he may have refused to sell him out, may as well have been complicit in his death. It's a thought that makes his stomach fall, like a weight in his stomach and an ache in his chest all at the same time.
He starts to cry. Softly. (Good thing no one is looking.) After a while, he finally speaks. Now would be a horrible time to walk up to him, just as he's done crying over a weird jacket in his hands, but maybe you can catch him mumbling to himself. Just don't ask what he was crying about. Please. Hans isn't supposed to cry!! ]
If this is what having feelings is like, it's terrible.
[ Later in the day, Hans can be found looking for something to do. He's wearing the bomber jacket, (which actually fits him, unlike some people) and not his winter coat. Plus now that he's lost all need for pretenses, he's not wearing his gloves. Maybe you'll find him in the Art Studio, trying to make another really crappy bowl. Or maybe you've caught him in the tea room, though he's really interested in having tea, he just wandered in here.
Either way, he's not going to be hitting the bar today, after yesterday didn't really go so well. So maybe if you wanna run into him anywhere else just handwave it and we'll say he was totally walking by and saw you. He's doing pretty okay now. Or he will be, maybe. At least for today.
this is long and it's your fault, you monsters
In the morning, Hans stops by the Merchandise Booth one last time—he would have hoped for a weapon once upon a time, but the bunch of stuff he gets isn't bad either, given the cold. I mean, he leaves the Tony and the boots and junk (he isn't even going to touch the rope,) but one particular item catches his eye: a brown bomber jacket, tucked almost haphazardly under his own winter coat.
Hans pulls the unfamiliar jacket from the pile. The style isn't exactly familiar to him, and the smell of gunpowder doesn't exactly bring back fond memories, but... look, Hans spent a lot of the last week with the Balladeer, and even more during the month they'd spent here. He'd know that smell anywhere. ]
What the hell is this...?
[ He holds it up, runs his hands over the lining and holds it close for confirmation. It's definitely the Balladeer's jacket. It smells just like him, gunpowder and all. But the Balladeer was gone now, he'd never get to see it, never get to wear it.
For a moment, Hans doesn't know what to do. He stands there, thinking about all the things he could have said to the Balladeer before he died, all the ways he made the weeks here bearable, how he'd changed his life for good just by being there.
But he's gone. The Management killed him. And Hans, for all that he may not have pulled the trigger, for all that he may have refused to sell him out, may as well have been complicit in his death. It's a thought that makes his stomach fall, like a weight in his stomach and an ache in his chest all at the same time.
He starts to cry. Softly. (Good thing no one is looking.) After a while, he finally speaks. Now would be a horrible time to walk up to him, just as he's done crying over a weird jacket in his hands, but maybe you can catch him mumbling to himself. Just don't ask what he was crying about. Please. Hans isn't supposed to cry!! ]
If this is what having feelings is like, it's terrible.
[ Later in the day, Hans can be found looking for something to do. He's wearing the bomber jacket, (which actually fits him, unlike some people) and not his winter coat. Plus now that he's lost all need for pretenses, he's not wearing his gloves. Maybe you'll find him in the Art Studio, trying to make another really crappy bowl. Or maybe you've caught him in the tea room, though he's really interested in having tea, he just wandered in here.
Either way, he's not going to be hitting the bar today, after yesterday didn't really go so well. So maybe if you wanna run into him anywhere else just handwave it and we'll say he was totally walking by and saw you. He's doing pretty okay now. Or he will be, maybe. At least for today.
Hopefully. ]