The ghost town is looking a lot like hell, now that he's collapsed against the tree. The scene is complete. Fire. Brimstone. Ghosts. A devil laughing at the sky. Howard felt something warm trickle down his neck. When he took his finger away from the liquid, it came away red. Concussed. Damn, this had spiraled out of control remarkably quickly.

Absinthe laughed. She laughed, and the admin watched her do so through fluttering eyelids as he waited for his brain to start working again. After a moment, he started to laugh too.

It was absurd. This was absurd. Everything about this night was out of a C-list comedy. Howard started howling at the moon, shaking his head as hysterics overtook him. It took Howard several moments to regain his composure. Only then did words fall from his lips.

"Pfffft..." He grinned like a fool, sole pupil dilated. "Hey, Absinthe."

He extended a hand, gesturing for the flask.

"Sharing is caring."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Scotch. Bourbon. It's ultimately the same when it's down the gullet and causing the vision to blur and the limbs to sway. Taste is temporary, and sensation lasts longer still, yet intoxication lasts all night. A night for memories and merry and utter insanity.

This flow of events is utterly unhinged. Howard couldn't do much but laugh and chuckle and attempt to work through the past hour. Was it even an hour? It felt more like a week than an hour. When he checked his watch, he realized that it had been twenty minutes.

That caused him to laugh harder as he took a swig of the scotch. It burned on the way down. He thought of the lawnmower exploding, and it caused him to snicker.

"This shit is so fucked. Life didn't used to be like this. It used to be chill." He waved the flask under her nose, chuckling as he did so. He hardly gave her marred lower face a second glance. When an eye was missing, what was half of a face? "It's so..."

He looked up at the sky. Thoughts moved slowly.

"...fucked!" He laughed, and patted the dead grass next to him. "Come on, sit!"

He jingled the flask.

"Drink with me!"

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"Ah, my head's fine. It's just defective. This whole vessel is defective, but that's our secret."

Howard thumped his fist against his chest as he spoke.

He's definitely concussed. He watches a piece of timber fall from the roof into the roaring inferno as the house continues to fold in. An iota of the admin hated watching it happen, preferring preservation to destruction. Yet there was an eerie beauty to watching things just fall apart and get engulfed in ash.

In retrospect, it reminded the admin of his life. What a terribly depressing comparison.

"And it's fine. I look better damaged. Makes me look less like a doll you'd dress up and more... used." His hat was slightly askew, but it hid faint cracks of magenta light that lined the skull, like a vessel on the cusp of overflowing. It helped that the hat was iconic. Even a member of the Elite Four wore it on television. "Eh, it doesn't fuckin' matter."

He took a deep breath. The air was cold despite the house burning.

"Nothing does. But that's fine." He gestured for the flask, fingers grasping. "Booze. Food. Women. Men. Ideals."

He snickered again.

"Everyone spends their life drunk on something."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

The things Absinthe lists are all valid. They're all perfectly acceptable reasons to keep marching forward in an attempt to find value in a life where nothing felt like it had meaning. He doesn't deny her whatever justification she needs for her purpose. He just listens, archives the information, and keeps moving on.

After all, his job is to simply chronicle and continue his search for the truth of the world.

"Not me. I don't need to control anything. I'm just here to make sure the future is bright and prosperous. So people like you can live happy lives when this is all over." He mixed lies with truth until one was indistinguishable from the others. "That's all the world needs from a worthless cog like me."

He tipped the flask back, feeling disappointed when the run of cheap liquor finally stops. He peers into the flask to confirm it's empty, before leaning back against the tree. He touched a blade of grass, watching it die from the contact with Dynergy.

Another sensation, stripped away.

"It's what this body was meant to do. When it's over, I'll be forgotten." This body, even if it didn't belong to him, was ultimately his. It was a curse wrapped in ice and stone. He rubbed two fingers together and watched tiny pieces of material come away. "But change..."

He laughed again. The admin's hair was disheveled and his face was pale. A reminder that he was hitting the bottle constantly, now.

"What a worthless thing." He tossed the flask into Absinthe's lap. "You out of booze?"

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"I'll drink to that!" He laughed again as Absinthe pulled him to his feet. His weight modulated as she did so. For one moment, he weighed a ton. For another, he was as light as the average person. Maybe it's the alcohol distorting the senses, or maybe the admin is a contradiction.

Really, who can tell?

As Absinthe hoisted him up, Howard swayed once, twice, before finally righting himself before he could fall over again. He peered at the burning building for a last time, before huffing and shaking his head. Best to get away before the smell of smoke permeated them both.

As they trudge away, he's silent. It's only when they stand on the ridge overlooking the burning house that Howard finally spoke again. Despite his slurring voice, the words were clear.

"Maybe not." He finally said, regarding Absinthe's ending. "But for everyone's sake, I'll sure as hell try."

It's what Zacian would've wanted, after all.

---

Absinthe Blackwood