Over exaggerating a shrug followed by a small swig of the bottle Sam shook his head slightly, ”Still alive aren’t I.” Jorge had a point he found things to go better with help but he didn’t want to admit it and he didn’t want to bring anyone else into his problems. He felt bad enough for Juliette, as it was he didn’t want his friends to be brought down by him, nor did he want any pity.

Another swig and Sam mocked Jorge by folding his own arms and staring at the cop. ”Trial by fire?” Sam asked not sure if the phrase fit for this particular instance but he took another swig. ”Doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, right? I wasn’t strong enough to prevent someone from using my body like a puppet, I wasn’t strong enough to prevent my friends from getting injured during the rescue. I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from my ‘not-real’ family.” Sam took a large swig this time feeling he was rambling too much.

”The other outlet was drinking but I was told to slow down on that. Then you showed up and I was reminded of the effectiveness of this.” Sam pointed to the spot where he stabbed himself then shrugged again knowing eventually either Juliette was going to yell at him or Doc. He’d rather have Doc yell at him. He didn’t like the look Juliette gave him when she was patching him up, not when it’s self-inflicted at least.

Sam had stopped trying to come in for a hit but that didn’t mean he was totally out of the woods just yet. It seemed that his issues were fairly deep-seated and just one little chat with him was not going to solve his problem. However it was a glimpse into what was going on with the man and it was far darker than anything that Jorge could have imagined. He was having trouble dealing with reality, understanding what was real and what wasn’t. The trauma required to inflict that kind of questioning had to have been sizeable.

Jorge tried to call him out, or at least his way of dealing with matters. Sam seemed content with his lot in life and to bear his burden alone, but it was clearly not working for him. Unfortunately Sam was just as combative when it came to his personal issues as the old detective remembered…

>> ”Still alive aren’t I.”

Eyeing him, he shook his head and gave him a heavy sigh. Looking him directly in the eye, Jorge, again, called him out. ”Sam, there’s a differing being living and being alive.” He paused. ”I don’t think you’re understanding that.”

The tirade that followed, Jorge wasn’t all-together prepared for. He knew relatively little about the man but understood that he was trustworthy, however it was becoming apparent the suffering that the man had endured. He tried to fall back on the old adage that ‘what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger’, and those things he did impart to Jorge were relatively unnerving. Puppeteering, injured friends, a ‘not-real’ family, enduring any of those would have caused problems; problem that Sam had initially attempted to solve with drinking.

Jorge eyed the spot where Sam stabbed himself in the leg and just shook his head. Though he wanted to partially blame himself for now telling Sam about his return sooner, in the end he wasn’t to blame for any of this; and neither was Sam. His friend was a victim, as much as he would be deny saying it, and he needed help. Another shake of his head and approached his friend. Without a word he took the bottle of booze from his hand and took a swig of it for himself.

”Well..” he said with a wince as the liquid coursed into his stomach. ”…****, man.” Jorge handed the bottle back and eyed the man. ”Listen, I get not wanting to bring other people into your troubles, but drinking and bleeding aren’t going to solve this. You need anchors in reality…and that’s what people are for. There are people who want to help you.”

Sam shrugged slightly when Jorge posed his first question. He was alive once the feeling he got when he woke up to his kids jumping on the bed trying to coerce him into some early morning training with joint locks and throws or even early morning breakfast which always resulted in breakfast in bed for his wife who like his kids were not real. Sam was tempted to stab himself again but shifted his weight as the bottle was taken from him.

Feeling the spot where he stabbed himself he looked back to Jorge and gave a slight nod as the cop took a swig for himself. Sam raised his hand to take it back and repeated the water-mancer. ”…****, man indeed.” Sam offered the bottle back to Jorge and nodded his head a little more jokingly than he wanted. He had heard this all before but it was a little different coming from Jorge only because he thought the man was dead until a few hours ago.

”Trying.” Sam said with a shrug. ”Juliette’s helping a lot with that, Ghost as well.” Sam hesitated for a second then added, ”it’s harder to involve people when you run the risk of mind control again.” he didn’t think it was possible for him to become controlled again but it was still a fear. More blades would erupt from his body than just his leg if he thought he was being controlled again. He had been in prisons before… that was one he couldn’t escape again. It almost killed him the first time. ”Gimmie.” Sam said as he waved at the bottle again wanting to take another swig.

>> ”…****, man indeed.”

Jorge shook his head as he let the man’s story swirl in his head. It was still hard to hear, to know that Sam had suffered as much as he did. It was no wonder he questioned reality from time to time. Hell, there was that whole Age of Sebastian nightmare that most of the city of New York suffered way back when. That had been a dozy and, for the longest time afterward, Jorge actually questioned which things were real and which were not. It was such a vivid hallucination that there were still times when he thought back to his past and confused which he actually lived and which he merely remembered from the nightmare.

Jorge tried to impart what he had been saying all along, Sam needed to let people in. Of course it was difficult because he didn’t want this to be anyone else’s mess but his own, but that was not how the world worked. Jorge wasn’t the best example of this as he himself had kept his return from a lot of people but they weren’t talking about Jorge right now, were they? Besides, Jorge wasn’t going around stabbing himself in the leg whenever he was confused.

Sam admitted that he was trying, that Juliette (his girlfriend) had been helping him, as well as Ghost. Jorge nodded his head, at least thankful that Sam was trying. His fears, though, was involving more people since mind control was a hard issue for him. Jorge nodded again, understanding his fears. Even if such things were unlikely given so many years, it didn’t help that the fears were buried so deep it was hard to forget them.

>> ”Gimmie.”

Jorge passed it over, eyeing the man for a second before he just sighed and nodded. ”Well count my on that list too, pal,” he said with a well-meaning smile. ”I suffered a traumatic experience too so, if there is anyone you should be able to talk to, I’m your guy.” He paused for a second before he pointed at the man. ”And no, that does not mean I’m going to kick your *** whenever you damn well please. Got me?”

Sam raised an eyebrow and smirked when he lowered the bottle and tried not make it a too comical smile. Sincere smiles were more difficult to come by lately but he knew Jorge was reaching out to him. The ice-mancer did appreciate that. Sam offered the bottle again and nodded his head.

”I was never too good about talking, drinking though. How about we go grab something when you’re feeling up to it. Drinks on me.” he shifted his weight and threw a punch into the air then roated his arms now that they were free of both the weight of the bottle and Jorge’s hold.

”Someone’s got to keep me in line.” Sam said as he shifted his weight and called up to the god room. ”Scenario 2120” Sam walked over to Jorge then reached for the bottle after a moment. ”Robots don’t fair too well do that anymore.” as Sam said it a dozen robots roughly the size of him started to materialize. ”Glad you’re back though bud.”

It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was a plan. Jorge wasn’t exactly a therapist but he would do what he could to help his friend get back in line and, hopefully, ease off on the self-inflicting pain and on the sauce. He knew that last one was going to be like making the sky turn plaid on command, but, hell, he had to try for his friend’s sake, didn’t he? So, with a plan to be there for him as much as he could be set into motion, Jorge hoped that that would be the first step to some kind of recovering.

The bottle of booze passed back and forth between them, each of them thinking about the hardships they had endured and those that were more than likely to come. Both were paranoid, Jorge about being unable to control his ability from now on and Sam’s sense of what was real. However, in this moment, right here in this training room, none of it mattered. It was just another day where two friends got to relax, sip from beer, and beat the hell out of one another. What more could be asked of the world?

>> ”I was never too good about talking, drinking though. How about we go grab something when you’re feeling up to it. Drinks on me…. Someone’s got to keep me in line.

He nodded and gave the man a grin. ”That sounds good enough to me.” Feeling that there little heart-to-heart was coming to an end, Jorge stretched and was ready to lead the man out of the Danger Room…but he had other sides.

Jorge stopped and turned to him. He issued out commands to the control room and suddenly the room began to shift again. It wasn’t vast emptiness anymore, now it was occupied by a dozen or so robot mercenaries. As the devices began to spring to life, Jorge sighed and shook his head. He knew that he should have unpacked before following Sam anywhere.

>> ”Glad you’re back though bud.”

Jorge rolled his eyes as he lifted his fists, ready to face off against a group of the machines. ”Yeah, yeah,” Jorge responded to him. ”Go to hell, Sam.” He gave him a cheeky grin before he lashed out at the first onslaught. This was going to be a long day for catching up.

(OOC: Closed?)