More like a fucking nightmare... [This is more mumbled, but he waits for the knock and calls for him go come in, hanging up the device and attempting to look like he's not having too rough a time.
The bags under his eyes might give him away though.]
And theres the other one I'm always accused of. Haven't the faintest clue why on that one.
[His return is flat, but he does seem a little nervous as Oscar takes his seat.
He threads his fingers together, trying his best to steel himself for something he had meant to ask the last time they'd talked and gotten too upset to try.]
Folgate put a suggestion forward that I've been...chewing on, and I wanted to ask for your assistance.
[a quick breath in, glancing at the frames on the desk before his eyes come back to Oscar.]
I need candles. F-for a private service, incense, preferably sandalwood, and maybe some suggestions. I- [His clasped hands grip more tightly.]
I've never planned a funeral before and I don't know what I'm doing.
[He considered it. So perhaps...a hundred candles, for each soul lost?]
That would be quite a bit of work, but if you know details for each person...it could work. I could offer a mass funeral, but as you don't believe in God, that wouldn't be kind.
[He blows out a breath. Hm.]
But a joint funeral...still doable. How long would you like the service to be?
I- I don't know all of them well enough to provide-
[He feels terrible admitting it. That he can't remember all their names off the top of his head makes it worse, but he does have something.
Pulling a filing drawer he grabs a large file and sets it on the desk. When he flips it open it's clearly the first page of intake forms, basic hiring information, but the most important thing is the copy of a drivers license attached to each one. It provides a photo, something visual.]
But, I think you misunderstand me, Oscar. I'm...going to hold it alone.
You don't need a eulogy for each and every one if you don't want to. They can be names. Only names.
[He held up a hand and sighed.]
If I was hosting it, it would be different, as it would be...filled with religion. But...ultimately...what do you want your message to be? To these people.
[He winced a little. He knows it doesn't look good...but none of it does, does it.]
It's all quite strange to me, Varker. And the fact they want a friend, not a priest or anything similar...not to mention. As a priest, I'm a reminder of things that have been inflicted on others.
So, it's better to offer my well wishes and not join in. I wouldn't know what to do with myself anyway.
I can confidently say you can find assholes in every group you can imagine. Unfortunate that the church churns out so many of them, but as a good man, your actions set you apart. I don't see hatred when I look in your eyes, but I have before, in lesser men.
Don't carry that with you, it will only slow you down.
[He turns Oscar's hand over in his, fingers tracing his, contemplative before he lets go and grabs the frame closest to him.]
I do feel similarly about it, though. What i would even do with myself if I did go.
But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to spent that time with them, with... Steward.
[And, as he says so he offers the frame to Oscar even if his hand might be shaking. The photo of he and Steward at their engagement party, six years younger with the greys starting to show in Stewards hair]
I'm not. I just want to make sure that I'm not upsetting people when it's a day of celebration. Two lives as one.
[And he takes the frame, even as he feels the hand shake. He just wants to hold Varker close when he's so shaky like this.
He swallows, and looks up to Varker. This was the man who could barely breathe as he died. This is the man that Oscar looked a little like. In body, not in mind.]
You should. Spend time with him.
Remember him at his best, with all the love in your heart, so you may both be in peace.
[He's glad that he has that photo, that he can look at it even if it hurts, looking at himself, unaltered. But it's worth it to see Stew and recognize him.
Especially when just closing his eyes can be enough to pull the memory of what Steward had sounded like, suffering.]
I'm...going to try. I'm still not sure I'm convinced I deserve it, being at peace.
If you had the time. Without a- [He trips over the word, swallowing and trying again with as steady a voice as he can.] body, there isn't many options.
[He watches Oscar stand, finding himself not wanting to be alone, but keeping it to himself, closing the open folder on his desk.]
[He needs to find more information on what is traditionally done without a body to bury, but that research has been painfully slow.
Hes still thinking about it when the question comes, blinking in surprise and giving Oscar all his attention.
He almost trips, pushing his plush leather chair back and standing to walk around the desk, clearing his throat when he gets to Oscar. Cant be too eager, obviously, except he is.]
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The bags under his eyes might give him away though.]
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[Seeing Varker, all mirth fades and he looks concerned. His hand starts to come up, but he stops himself from reaching.]
Clement?
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[he doesn't see why him being right is such a surprise. He usually is.
He can see that look, but gestures to the chair across from him instead, the heavy desk between them.]
I'm fine...don't- don't look at me like that. Sit, and we'll talk.
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[Said with fondness. He likes you even when you're biting. But seeing the stress, he swallows a sigh of worry and sits.
Is this another not breakup talk...?]
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[His return is flat, but he does seem a little nervous as Oscar takes his seat.
He threads his fingers together, trying his best to steel himself for something he had meant to ask the last time they'd talked and gotten too upset to try.]
Folgate put a suggestion forward that I've been...chewing on, and I wanted to ask for your assistance.
[a quick breath in, glancing at the frames on the desk before his eyes come back to Oscar.]
I need candles. F-for a private service, incense, preferably sandalwood, and maybe some suggestions. I- [His clasped hands grip more tightly.]
I've never planned a funeral before and I don't know what I'm doing.
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[His voice was calm, careful. Listening to what Varker wanted and...he relaxed.
A service. Not so personal then. And, too, something he didn't need to be special to do, at all.]
What kind of service would you want?
[He could ask more but, it's a lot to ask. Varker is already clearly exhausted and...moving out.
Which he doesn't like. But its not like they're even...they're just friends.]
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It'll be small. I planned on holding it in the memorial room, privately.
But it's... for over a hundred people.
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[He considered it. So perhaps...a hundred candles, for each soul lost?]
That would be quite a bit of work, but if you know details for each person...it could work. I could offer a mass funeral, but as you don't believe in God, that wouldn't be kind.
[He blows out a breath. Hm.]
But a joint funeral...still doable. How long would you like the service to be?
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[He feels terrible admitting it. That he can't remember all their names off the top of his head makes it worse, but he does have something.
Pulling a filing drawer he grabs a large file and sets it on the desk. When he flips it open it's clearly the first page of intake forms, basic hiring information, but the most important thing is the copy of a drivers license attached to each one. It provides a photo, something visual.]
But, I think you misunderstand me, Oscar. I'm...going to hold it alone.
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You don't need a eulogy for each and every one if you don't want to. They can be names. Only names.
[He held up a hand and sighed.]
If I was hosting it, it would be different, as it would be...filled with religion. But...ultimately...what do you want your message to be? To these people.
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His words are barely a chokes whisper as he responds.]
That...that I'm sorry. That it didn't need to end this way, i shouldn't have allowed it to get as far as it did.
A-and their lives mattered. They weren't just... failed experiments, or the means to an end.
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[He hesitates, but he still reaches. Just to touch Varker's hand.]
I will guard the door for you, if that's what you want.
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It might soften the blow.]
No...it'll just be Folgate and I. You'll have somewhere to be I'm sure, since...I plan to do it when most of the ship is preoccupied with the wedding.
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[He held his hand back, tight, before responding.]
I'm not sure if I should go, myself.
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[His head tilts just so, curious as he looks at Oscar. He of all people he thought would go to see his friend get married.]
The service not Catholic enough for you, Father?
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It's all quite strange to me, Varker. And the fact they want a friend, not a priest or anything similar...not to mention. As a priest, I'm a reminder of things that have been inflicted on others.
So, it's better to offer my well wishes and not join in. I wouldn't know what to do with myself anyway.
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Don't carry that with you, it will only slow you down.
[He turns Oscar's hand over in his, fingers tracing his, contemplative before he lets go and grabs the frame closest to him.]
I do feel similarly about it, though. What i would even do with myself if I did go.
But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to spent that time with them, with... Steward.
[And, as he says so he offers the frame to Oscar even if his hand might be shaking. The photo of he and Steward at their engagement party, six years younger with the greys starting to show in Stewards hair]
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[And he takes the frame, even as he feels the hand shake. He just wants to hold Varker close when he's so shaky like this.
He swallows, and looks up to Varker. This was the man who could barely breathe as he died. This is the man that Oscar looked a little like. In body, not in mind.]
You should. Spend time with him.
Remember him at his best, with all the love in your heart, so you may both be in peace.
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Especially when just closing his eyes can be enough to pull the memory of what Steward had sounded like, suffering.]
I'm...going to try. I'm still not sure I'm convinced I deserve it, being at peace.
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[Slowly, he moves to place the frame back in Varker's hands.]
Let him rest. I'll make sure his candle is especially blessed, even if he was a man of science.
Even if you are too.
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The sandalwood is for him, if you can get it.
He wasn't practicing, but even if we had only met the once his parents would curse me forever if I didnt at least follow one Hindu funeral right...
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I should research on Hindu funerals then to get other touches right. Things he might like, perhaps.
...A request, if I may?
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[He watches Oscar stand, finding himself not wanting to be alone, but keeping it to himself, closing the open folder on his desk.]
Yes?
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[He sighs. He knows it's selfish and cruel but...]
May I hug you before I go?
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Hes still thinking about it when the question comes, blinking in surprise and giving Oscar all his attention.
He almost trips, pushing his plush leather chair back and standing to walk around the desk, clearing his throat when he gets to Oscar. Cant be too eager, obviously, except he is.]
Please?
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