Patches of skin turned indigo as Enok's mouth pursed shut, begging it to stay back. His gag reflexes pushed against his will. The fight pressed for 5 seconds so far.

"Enok, you can quit the actress shit now. I'll feed this shit to you through your ass if I have to."

"Mongrel, be kinder to your brother! Has your mother never taught you any better?"

His lips parted, and a gush of bile and beaten food let onto the table. Enok shrouded his vision with a cloth to block Jessie and Shenice's reactions.

"Jesus Christ, are you actually sick? Is that what it is?" Jessie scoffed, snatching the cloth from him. Buffalo-like, he tended to Enok, wiping the spit and sick from him. Enok pulled away.

"No. I'm well." Spew leaked onto the ground and integrated into the grout joints. Jessie leered at the overflow and turned to grab a mop.

"Yeah, should've been able to guess by the fucking sea of shit I'm seeing right now." 

"This happened before, Jean. I can't eat anything."

Enok watched as Jessie toiled at it. Vomit followed the mop. In turn, he put more willpower on the broom, hauling the vomit around. Defeated, Jessie turns to him.

"Are you just coming to this conclusion now, Einstein, or did you already know this?" 

"The first option?" 

The wager interjects, "That can't be possible, how are you still alive, then?"

"Personally, I think you should be asking yourself," Jessie provokes. "'Why am I not leaving this person's house yet?'"

Shenice and Jessie share glances for a few moments. Her anger subsided, but it only took Jessie's chuckle to get her fired up again. "What is this all about? Who are you speaking to? Dishes?"

Jessie smirked and turned to the dishes. "Well, use context clues! Who is currently in the house who should not be in the house?"

A response hadn't traveled for five seconds, so he glanced over. The woman seemed to be dousing herself in thought. Her wrist pressed onto her cheek. Shenice noticed his peering. Annoyed, she shouted, "I beg, spare yourself the blandishments! I want money."

She and Jessie delved into a shouting match immediately.

"For fucking what?" 

"Did I not carry that obese prostitute up the stairs?"

"She's only slightly overweight, actually," Enok interjects.

"Wh-we all did! I'm not paying Enok or, or myself by the pound! Why should I pay you?"

Shenice stood, casting her seat away. She approached Enok and untucked her shirt from her pants. Her gaze locked at a corner. "Inspect me well! Her weight broke my rib, I'm sure of it!" What could he make of a lime green shirt? "Huh! Telling me to use context clues. Lift up the shirt, Mongrel!" He did. Jesse feigned, inspecting her, giving Enok B-production.

"...You look okay."

"Finally, Enok! Saying something I can get behind!"

"We should give her money. She helped us."

"And if you still have doubt, I can snitch you on a list for the punks!" The wager rejoined.

Jessie fished in his pockets and handed her a note. As quick as he did, she left, leaving Enok a kiss on his cheek.

"You did the right thing, I think."

"'List for the punks,' what the actual fuck is that?"

"I don't know. I think you did the right thing."

"Fuck you for even putting that in her head. The fucking punk thing."

Enok saw it as his queue to leave, yet a tug gripped his collar. He met looks with Jessie, who seemed uneasy.

His demeanor made over once he said, "Actually, no, I wanna talk to you about something." 

"What?"

"You know, I keep on talking to you about this shit, but it never seems to go anywhere. Enok, well, you gotta tell me more about yourself. I don't want to go in there looking like a,"

"Be specific."

"Well, how about this one? Why do you have a dick and an asshole if you can't eat or drink?" Already reading Enok's reaction, he lets out a peel of nervous laughter. "Pointless, right?"

Pressure gathered along Enok's chest. Jessie's gaze bore at him, digging for an answer. Enok let up, "I don't want to talk about that." 

"Alright," Jessie decided not to dwell on it. "You have a purpose?" 

"You already told me the answer to that question." 

"Oh, right. Anyways, what did Dad teach you after you were made?" 

"He taught me how to approach others and how to speak to them. Social etiquette." 

"That's it?" 

"No. He composed a script for me to memorize to tell the 5th head. Before he disappeared, he intended to meet him. We were supposed to meet him. I've remembered most of it." 

The sentence ran back to Jessie. A realization hit him. He swallowed a thrilled reaction and settled with, "You don't mind." 

Enok nodded and fixed himself into a position, chest rising and shoulders stiff. He looked to Jessie for a cue, Jessie nodded as well. "I don't symbolize a simple commodity, I sy-"

As if on queue, a knock bothered the ceremony. Jessie trekked towards the door, a sigh past his lips. "Again."

He calls out to Enok, "Alright, so I think that might be Bimala, her parents coming to kill me or both, so it's best if you stay in the cl—" 

Turning back, Jessie notices Enok's face. A sad look wrung upon it. He attempted to fix a smile, but Enok couldn't bring himself to finish. 

"Okay, no more closet. Just go to my room, alright?"

He watched as Enok disappeared into the hall. His mind sat on a myriad of matters, his hand wavering over the knob. Conscious scrambled, one limb attempting backtrack and investigating what it could've changed. Another hung itself on the fact that it's all futile. One leg comprised an escape plan. Suddenly, it all passed into silence. He twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

No miscarriages yet.

He'd caught them turning to leave. Bimala spun back, revealing a swell coated in violet resting on her forehead. Jessie tried to mend his wince with a half-smile.

"Uh, hey! I'm Bimala," She beamed, ironing her clothes with her fingers.

"Yeah, I kn—" Catching himself, he stammered. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jessie."

"Hi, Jessie! This is Robert, but y-you already," Turning around, Bimala noticed Robert walking away.

In response, Bismala offered Jessie teeth and attended to Robert, playing a game of tug of war. Seizing her grasp, she slapped him and read him the riot act. Robert's face tarried. Jessie's attention began to wane. His conscious washed over with relief and praises as he realized that everything was in its right place. Then the conversation resurfaced to his heed.

"Like, like, like, I don't get it. I don't get it at all!"

"What do you not...get, Robert? What do you not get? You had a chance to change how you act, you knew..."

"Explain this, explain this, why is it when...you do bad shit...nothing happens! But when I do something, you gotta, you all gotta take me places?!"

"What 'bad thing' did I even do?"

"You fucking...you fucking snuck out, like two fucking days ago! The fuck do you mean, 'What bad thing?'"

"How is... what you did to that boy the same as sneaking out?"

Robert withdrew, eyes darting in all directions away from his sister. She turned to Jessie, simpering like a threatened animal. "I'm sorry you had to...hear all of that. My name's Bimala, that's Robert. Ah, I already, uh, said that." 

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Jessie replied. "Uh, you guys can come in now. Sorry."

Robert and Bimala staggered into the apartment, their steps knotting. The tension spilled into the studio. Robert threw himself onto one of the couches. His sister and Jessie sat on the opposing couch.

Bimala examined her watch, shuffling in her seat. "Uh, so I'll make this quick, okay?"

"No...you can, uh, take your time." Jessie planted his view on the ground, the thought of her suddenly remembering what happened last night stiffened his shoulders.

"Ah, no, uh, I really have to get going soon."

"So, what did he do?"

Bimala's demeanor changed from precautious to stern straightaway. "You wanna tell him what you said you did?" She snapped.

Robert sucked at his teeth. "Mom and dad are all pissed all 'cause I jumped some sheltered bitches."

"Look," Bimala stood and imitated, clawing at her face. "This entire side of the kid's face. All scars, he said. He can barely see. And Robert thinks it's funny!"

"Oh, Jesus, poor kid. But it's just a small scuffle or whatever, right?"

"A, A what?" 

"Exactly!" Robert interjected with a self-satisfied smirk. "Exactly. It was just a small fight! He, he gets it!"

Bimala's expression firmed and then relaxed. She rested and tried to ream into Robert with her eyes. His glance fixed at the door. "I don't know when you're gonna realize that all of these...big friends you have are just using you!"

He countered, "Hey, what makes them different from you guys?" 

"Kid," Jessie groans. "I don't know much about your family, or anything about you two for that matter, but I know they care about you."

Bimala stood upright, avoiding eye contact with both Robert and Jessie. She bleats, "Jessie, just...please try to talk some, some sense into him. I gotta go. I'll see you two."

With that, she rushed out of the apartment, the door slamming behind her. Jessie looked to Robert, who fiddled with his clothing.

"Why'd she leave so fast?" 

"Whore shit."

"Horse shit?"

Robert rolled his eyes, picking at a rammed thread with his nail. "Whore. She's a whore. She's gonna fuck dudes or whatever." 

"You're a stand-up guy for sure, you know." Jessie chuckled. He palmed his face with a sense of second-hand embarrassment.

"I'm not even joking," Robert replied, missing a beat. "Everyone in my family is a fucking slut."

Jessie's smirk peaked from his fingers. "Huh. That's...huh. Do you at least have some shit with you? Like shampoo—"

The door thrusts open, leaving yet another mark on the wall. Jessie and Robert sprung back in tune. The landlord smirked, seeming more laid-back than usual. "Hanging out with people your age, a first for you, Jessie!"

Jessie immediately started to apologize. "Look, sir. I'm sorry for the noise last night, I—"

The landlord wasted no time in cutting him short. "I'm just here to let you know that this is strike three. One more and you're off. Goodbye."

The door shut as violently as it opened. Now it's all left to Jessie to rebuild small talk.

Robert comes to the rescue, kicking it off with, "You're pussy."

"Yeah, I am." Jessie chirped, laid out on the couch.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Robert grimaced. "Don't say, 'I am.'"

"Alright, whatever you say, sir."

"Seriously, though, don't be like that. People will always take advantage of you if you're like that."

"Right, thanks for the advice, Clint Eastwood. Do you want anything from the fridge?"

"...Just put on the TV."

Jessie studied the living room and found the remote. The TV turned on. Sweeping clips of women congregated around a bus set ablaze. The television's attention switched to a young woman. She hid her tremors with a scowl. Her eyes pointed to the distance. "I think we need to make our own division, us women, because—"

Robert sprung from the couch. "Fucking, fuck, yes!"

"What's good about that?" 

"What's, what's good about it?" Robert looks genuinely dumbfounded. "I mean, hello? Do you get out much?"

Jessie gave it some thought. "Not really, no."

"What's good about this is, look, these maggots are getting their asses handed to them!"

A vignette of masses scurrying off into a jungle flashed on the screen. Cutting behind it, a longshot displaying a campground, male and female soldiers integrated. Even though blur masked their faces, you could sense the dread in their posture. 

"Yeah, I see that." Jessie returned. "But, wait, hasn't this ha—"

Robert bypasses. "Good. These people have been... ruining this country, for years, not allowing us to grow, now we're fucking...primitive! Literally!"

Civilians, no, police begin to take up space in a scene, warding off a group of vigilantes. For every punch, an officer throws, a gallon of blood from their side is spilled. Some of the hogs rush the conflict with their weight. The pigs thin out faster. 

Jessie turns his attention back to Robert. "Well...what do you plan on doing about it?" 

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Jessie scrutinizes him and scoffs, "What are you on about?"

"Those kids supported these guys." 

"Ah, I get it now! You and your little posse are political and shit!"

"Yeah, and we beat every fucking..." 

Jessie kisses Robert on the cheek in hopes of shutting him up.

"God, that's fucking adorable!"

"You think it's cute? Really?"

"Of course! You're probably about, what, seventeen and y-"

"I'm twenty!" Robert interposes, throwing his weight to the side of the couch.

Two years older, Jessie thinks to himself. Who would have thought?

He looked back to him, catching Robert... pouting. He turns to the TV again. 

"If it makes it any cuter for you, I...!"

"Look, I entertained it for a bit, but now it's no fun, so put down the act, alright?" Jessie responded, his tone almost pleaded.

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, so you're telling me since you beat up a fucking kid and you...you have this big gang, your family came to a democratic decision and, and, decided to drop you off at some stranger's house?"

Though he's silent, Robert doesn't drop the act. Jessie leers at him, once again pretending to inspect. He pressed his teeth on his thumb and ribbed, "They should've dropped you off at jail; that's what they should've done." 

"Stop, I'm serious."

"... Let's talk politics, then!" 

"No."

"Aw, look who's pussy now! Look who's pussy."

"I don't wanna fucking talk to you. You're a fucking dumbass."

"Be nice to me, Robert. I'm just as dangerous as you swear you are," Jessie snickered. "I was just starting to like you, anyways."

He suddenly got up, aimlessly drifting his arms into the crevices of the couches. After a two-second effort, he retrieved a lighter. "Okay, I'm sorry if this is, uh, personal," Jessie continues, making it back to his spot. "But does your family like you?"

"Does your family like you? 'Cause you're fucking annoying, man."

"My dad liked me. You know how I can tell?"

"How?"

"I was the first name mentioned...in my father's will." 

"Really?"

"Yeah, really, I was the only child that the bastard had!" Jessie took his time lighting his cigarette, waiting on a response. "Now it's your turn."

"My turn to what?"

Jessie slammed his hand along with the cigarette on the table. "Say something, dammit! Did your family like you or not, motherfucker?" Trickles of laughter found space between Jessie's hollering. 

Robert quipped, "Did?" Jessie positioned the cigarette's end over Robert's shoulder. "Okay, okay! I'll talk. My family likes me, I guess."

"...Are you serious?" 

"What did I do now?"

"You know I'm not satisfied with a half-assed, 'My family likes me, I guess.'" 

"I don't wanna overshare with you, weirdass."

The smile on Jessie's smirk rested into a frown, his eyes pinned to Robert's. His smile returned. "You're right. I shouldn't force you to like me or talk to me. I apologize. But you will like me, remember that."

Robert smiled and took a moment to recollect. He stares at the TV screen. A woman, a commentator, caught in the middle of a segment, wearing a somber expression. "What could've driven Kate Moore to murder her own husband? We discuss with Baqi Hamza as soon as we return." 

"See, that's why it's good to be a maggot, Robert!" Jessie crowed, taking another breath of his cigarette. "Goodnight, Mr. Allman."