Chu-e had been busy sucking salt off a lime slice, his own little circle of margarita glasses sitting in a neat line on the bar next to him. He felt fuzzy and warm, sleepy, with a kind of slow rocking that soothed instead of made him sick like it normally did. If Prince were out, the Gardevoir would be throwing a fit. Chu-e wasn't supposed to do anything that fucked with his medicine. Drinking was one of them. Sadly, Chu-e didn't really give too much of a fuck about if he lived or died. This little fact maybe prompted his quick but sure answer to the deep questions from one Remiel Calcifet.

"Nah, they're scars. They're there for... for good." Of course, his speech was also slurred, but the writer is not in a state to properly show that at the moment. Their brain is also slurred. Anyway. Chu-e waved it off, turning to glance at Remy with a serious look on his face. At least as serious as someone batshit wasted could look, anyway. "They hurt and they suck ass... take a long time to scab over 'n shit. They tug and pull and never feels the same. But they get easier." And he said it with such conviction.

A quick check on his Pichu, which seemed to be trying to get the Toxel to play with him, was proof enough to Chu-e. Most of Chu-e's pokemon, the ones he hadn't captured himself, had come from situations similar to what Toxel had been through. That Pichu had. And now he was a fairly normal pokemon. He still had bad days. Chu-e did, too. But it could get better.

The alcohol makes his tongue loose. He crinkles his nose at Remiel Calcifet before pointing to Bede and motioning for the whiskey- the whole bottle with two shot glasses. Chu-e needed something a little harder even for this conversation.

"Then you... you fuckin' get over it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and avoiding it. It happened. It sucks." A shot was poured, thrown back, another passed in Remy's direction before he poured himself another. This one he picked up and stared into as if considering. Then he looks up and meet's the prince's eyes, his own just as shiny and wild in his own way thanks to the drink.

Mallow frowns at the reaction, eyes welling up with tears. The Pichu does what he thinks if best, trying to hug the Toxel until it's all better. He doesn't even flinch at any wayward strikes or hits, as if used to much worse. A silent apology.

"I got, uh, touched a kid. Bad touch way. Uh...." Being drunk had made him less able to properly talk about this while also making it easier. Still, he soldiered on. As if to try and get Remy to understand. "Been... been thirteen years. Long ass time. I'm over it." He scowls as he says that, unsure even why he's opening up to the other this way. No one knew this except for Zac Ramsay, whom he told because he trusted the man with the info. Remy was nice but they didn't know each other as well. But maybe... they could?

"But uh," He knocked the drink back, reached for the bottle again. "Fucked me up for a long time. Sometimes, uh, sometimes guys who... who looked like him. What I remember, anyway, they uh... it freaks me out. Thirteen years and I'm over it, but that shit still bothers me. Scars change you, but like, you can... you can accept it and work on making it easier or like. You can wallow in it and be a sad sack and let it eat you up inside."

"Yeah... yeah. I killed him. Him and everyone who let him get away with it." Chu-e thinks of names on paper, other kids who suffered like him, only to have it covered up. How many more had he hurt that hadn't tried to report it before he stopped it himself? How many more would wake up on the bad nights shaking with 'No' pleaded into still air?

But, ah, that wasn't the important part here.

"Fuckin.... pain is pain. You say you got stabbed and I got shot? Well, uh... like... uh...." He takes that shot, turns the glass over on the counter. He's out for the count.

"It's not the fuckin'... just cause I mighta got hurt 'worse' don't mean you can't hurt. Just cause uh... just cause someone else is happier than me, can I not be happy too? That's logics, uh... it's uh... bullshit." Reaching over, Chu-e tried to pat Remiel Calcifet on the back in some form of comfort.

"Listen, Remy, you gotta cry, you fucking do it." Of that Chu-e was firm, resolve hard. Too many idiots in this organization bottled up their emotions and let it ruin them. He wasn't about to let that happen to Remiel Calcifet. "Don't ever be sorry for being human, fancy pants." He continued to give the other a few firm pats on the back.

"Ain't gotta be yourself, either. You lost somebody and it's fucked up and shouldn't have happened! Be sad about it! Grieve! You'll never even start to feel better at all if you just push it down." Chu-e was reminded of his own missing partner, his departed husband. Chu-e still mourned for him sometimes- but it got better with time. Feeling like you needed to hold that stuff down only made it worse. It was okay to be weak sometimes.

"Could always come up with a fresh new one... what about 'Stinky Pants'?" Seemed like Remiel Calcifet was unwilling to take the suggestion seriously... for now. Or, at least in front of Chu-e. Then again, it could have been any number of things since his alcohol addled mind was having a hard time keeping up with very much.

He's about to answer, insert two more of his cents, when the lights go out. Surprise bubbles up his throat in the form a laugh, rough but kind. Leaning forward, he slumps his head on the table.

"Rems, you channel all those fucked up feelings into something good, bro." He lets out a small 'hic' and wonders how pissed that Prince will be at him when he shows up at home sloshed. "And don't call me 'sir'. I hate that" But he laughs again, quieter, and his Pichu wonders what he did wrong this time.