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Sweeney sets the bottle in the grass and takes down a cigarette. The silence dangles as he holds it to his lips and digs out his lighter to breath it to life. A long drag; his eyes sliding up the glass ceiling.

"Die of old age," he offers, pushing the answer past the smoke in his lungs. Its tendrils flee him after the words have gone. The reply is given in deadpan sincerity, and his focus drops to her promptly after.

"Well that's a goal," she says, eyes mischievous. "You already got a couple gray hairs."

"Like fuck, I do."

His eyes roll shut again, and he takes another drag. He's certain he hasn't actually aged; his degrading is more about the mileage, but still. Would he even know? He does his best not to look at himself whenever it's avoidable.

Sweeney's doubtful that old age's something he's interested in working towards, but at this point, who the fuck knows.

"They're at the back," she says, positively impish now. "But it's okay, you're still fucking sexy. So don't go shaving your head like Bruce Willis."

Strangely enough, her explanation reeks no less of bullshit, and his expression speaks to that point.

Sweeney sets his elbow on his knee so he can put his head against his hand, and he presses two fingers to his forehead to brace as his thumb rubs at the joint of his jaw. A long sigh escapes him.

"What is it ya want, luv?" He's tired, and he doesn't have enough mind left to chase hers around.

She came to check on him but it doesn't seem like a thing she should say. "To trade a cigarette for some booze. You know- I hang out at the library like, every day around 4. If you ever want to come find me."

Since he can't come to her home anymore. That still galls her.

For a moment, he looks dubious. But he's not going to argue her answer. He certainly hates it when people dig at his.

His hand shifts to his side, taking up the bottle she'd left there and holds it out to her by the neck. Sweeney bounces it, mirroring the motion with his head to imply she take it.

She takes it, eyes lingering on his a moment before she smiles that smile that hides all her thoughts. "Thanks. Seriously, man, come find me sometime. I have a good booze idea."

"Mhm," he answers noncommittally.

"That idea involve a still?" Sweeney knows she was thinking of something easier, but it doesn't mean her aspirations hadn't broadened since then.

"Yeah it does," she says with a little note of triumph. "It's going to be a whole operation eventually. I think you're gonna like it."

"Operation?" Yeah...nothing about this sounds like a potential train wreck. He blinks slowly.

"Ya takin' on staff or some shit?"

"Not till I'm off the Barge. I never had a real job, this one seems like it'd at least be interesting." She smirks. "I see your doubt, sir."

There's something about being called on it that makes his lips tighten.

"I'm reservin' judgement," he clarifies. Which is also the truth, but it doesn't make her assessment any less valid.

Sweeney shifts his fingers slightly in the grass, taking comfort their texture during the beat before he continues.

"Plannin' ta fuck off sooner rather than later then, eh?"

She looks away and lights a cigarette.

"Trying to be optimistic." It isn't working, if her tone is anything to go by. There's not an ounce of her usual lighthearted energy. "If I let myself think about it I'll just...quit trying."

He cocks his head as he watches her in study.

"Think 'bout goin', or thinkin' 'bout stayin'?" Both of them carry plenty of reasons to stop trying to move forward.

"I had to stop going after my deal. My old one. But I've got other fuck ups I could fix if I could just get my act together." She pushes her hair back. "So I think I'll stay. But I am one fucking terrible warden. I think I'd just screw up an inmate." She glances at him. "I'm not like, looking for pity. It's just stuff that's been stuck in my head for a long time. Since before I even came back, some of it."

He takes a slow drag, his gaze lingering on her in dry observation.

"That's good, 'cause pity ain't my stock an' trade."

Sweeney lets his attention drop to his cigarette. He mulls the words for a second or two before continuing, keeping his eyes low.

"Do you want to fix other people?" There's no judgement. He just knows some things look better on paper than in practice.

Her laugh is a short, surprised, cynical bark and she seems to wonder if he's joking. Then she takes a drag.

"You can't fix people. You can't fix another person. I guess that's how it can look, but I never came here thinking I'd be able to take someone and like, stitch them up or unbreak them."

Sweeney's hand lifts instinctively, defense of his words implied.

"Yer the one that brought up un-fuckin' folk. Generally speakin', I've found cunts tend ta stay cunts, no matter what ya do." Grimnir's a fucking prime example.

He shrugs and takes another drag. "Just seems like yer on the fence as ta if you actually want ta be a warden, or if ya just feel like yer obligated ta be." Again, no judgement, just observation.

"I meant more that I could untorture someone." She flicks some ash and watches it land. "He'd be fucked up still but by something else. Not something I did to him. So I guess...yeah. An obligation. If I can take back some of the worst things I ever did, it's hard to tell myself to just up and go if I ever get free."

She takes another drag, slower. "Would you stay? Will you?"

Muted surprise lifts Sweeney's brow as the line of questioning turns to him. He gives a half-shrug and taps his ash. He feels like he's constantly having this conversation with everyone he knows. They never seem to like the answer.

"Fuck if I know." It's short and succint. He knows well enough that it's insufficient. "Nothin' ta go back to," he follows, fighting to keep recent revelations at arm's length so he doesn't slip off the edge again. "An' yes, I do know I can go anywhere." He licks his lip and takes another drag.

"But fuck, I ain't aimin' ta graduate or anythin', so I'm not frettin' on it." With a knowing tip of his head, Sweeney adds, "Pretty sure I shouldn't be responsible fer un-fuckin' folk either."

She could say a thing or two about being glad he can't un-fuck her, but she only says it with a smirk.

Then she shakes her head. "I wasn't gonna say that. Who cares if we can go anywhere? I can't go home. I don't want to go to these places where they need superheroes just to keep the streets safe for people to go grocery shopping. I grew up in a shitty neighborhood, I'm already hunted down by humans, and that was bad enough but I could still go to a movie without someone burning it down around me with their laserbeam eyes. No one's world sounds like a place I want to be."

She has a place to go now, but only if Godric stays until she's graduated. Since he's not on the ship right now she's struggling to believe in that future, so she's sticking to what she does know.

He shrugs and taps his ash before pulling another drag.

"My understandin' is those are the options. Wardenin' or fuckin' off." Sweeney's not particularly keen on doing either at this point. There's just too much shit on his plate here, and nothing to eat back where he came from.

Those are the only ones she has heard of. She wracks her brain for any other example and comes up empty. "I don't blame you for not rushing to the graduation line." If Godric's door disappears, it will take her last reason for trying, too.

"Have people said you could come to their world? Or are they just selling you a cruise to some other world without saying which one?"

"Oh fuck no," he confirms with a shake of his head. Sweeney lifts his cigarette to slide it in an arc of illustration.

"Just 'anywhere'. He rolls his eyes. "Like ambiguity's a fuckin' sellin' point."

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