When the detective came down from whatever high or mania was holding her up, she fell asleep on a deck chair. I went inside and pulled Gary out of the closet. I asked him if he knew about the sex trafficking. He said that he didn’t but I could see in his eyes that he did.
He saw me see it. Then he fell apart. He said that he had another gun in a safe that the detective didn’t find. He begged me to go get it and shoot him in the head. Sobbing, he said that he was trying to be strong but he was weak. He said that he was trying to be tough like me but he couldn’t.
He’s the rich powerful one and he was talking like he was envious of me. Like he saw me as someone to be revered, that he could never live up to. It makes no sense. The detective is the same. I can’t understand how these two dominant successful people could be begging me for help.
I had the thought that if Gary wanted to die and the detective needed magic support for a suicide mission, there was an easy answer to all of this. Let them go after the Swede and whatever happens is probably for the best. No matter how it turns out.
All I wanted to do was help. How did things get so fucked up?
I went back outside to get the keys to the cuffs. I told the detective that I needed Gary to help me with something and I wasn’t going to help her, so she might as well leave. She said that Gary had done plenty of foul stuff himself. I said that I knew.
She smashed her fist on her chest and yelled “Then why won’t you help ME?!” Point being she was trying to do something good and Gary was an asshole. I didn’t really have a good answer to that because she’s right. I just said once again that I don’t kill people.
She asked if I would help her if she helped me first. I told her she couldn’t help me, it was a magic thing.
She said she could.
Rocket Cat 