the war was in color

[Public, backdated to after the events of this post]

[Gene sounds - and is - mad. Mad as hell, to be totally honest, but also just really fucking disappointed and frustrated, because:]

Jimmy shot Omar Little earlier. Is there anyone fillin' in as a warden for him until he gets assigned someone permanent? And can someone bring him back if no one's done it already?

[He's already got ideas on how to punish Jimmy (even if it feels fucking weird to need to think about that, both because he doubts there's much he can really do to make the guy regret what he did and because it's just strange to have this kind of authority over someone who feels more like a friend than a responsibility sometimes), but there's something else he wants to be focused on first, because he's pretty sure Jimmy didn't just grab one of Omar's guns and shoot him.]

Who the hell gave him access to a weapon and didn't think I might wanna know about it?

[Filtered to Kitchen Wardens]

I want Jimmy on dish washing and clean up duty for all three shifts until further notice.

[Spam for Snafu]

[It's a day or so later that something in him kind of snaps. Not badly, it's not like he's gone full on Asiatic or anything, but Gene's been antsy and irritable all day, mad at Jimmy and annoyed at himself for not feeling more confident in his ability to actually make a goddamn difference at all here, and he'd slept badly the night before - or perhaps more accurately, he'd slept worse than usual, thrashing and crying out, fighting off phantoms from an island he hasn't been on for the better part of a year, one he'd only been on for a couple weeks and still ripped him up inside. How pathetic is that, feeling so fucked up and confused and directionless, all over something that was really only a few days in hell?

So he goes about the day chain smoking and keeping mostly to himself, hiding away in the library and avoiding lingering in the mess hall until he finally can't take it anymore and heads back to his friend's cabin.

This feels like something that's been building for a long time, in a lot of ways. The thing with Jimmy and whatever asshole decided to get him a gun just makes it worse. Something about the Barge suddenly feels too small, too cramped, and he finds himself handing Snafu his filthy, battered Bible almost without thinking about it, thrusting it in his friend's face as he meets Gene's intense look with one of confusion.]

Read it. [It comes out sort of sounding like a plea more than a demand or a question, but he still manages to be polite, even when he's feeling kind of off balance and strangely desperate.] Please.

[He bites his lip, embarrassed and almost surprised to find the skin's smooth and unbroken, not chapped and dry.]

I just need someone to look at it.

[It's like a nervous double check, craving some kind of deeper understanding even though obviously he knows that Snaf was there and saw what he saw. Sometimes he wonders if his friend's easy acceptance of his own death means maybe he hadn't, and maybe Gene just wants him to see it differently, maybe he just needs him to see that this wasn't something you can shrug off. Maybe he wants to know how he can, because everything feels sharp and brittle in him today and he's sick of it.

He doesn't know.]