Coulson left Bul-Kathos's forge, head spinning with confusion. It wasn't that Bul-Kathos held back; Coulson just couldn't grasp his tales. Names like Mephisto and Diablo meant nothing to him. Despite Bul-Kathos's efforts, his stories—filled with "I cleaved its skull with one swing"—lacked clarity. When pressed, he'd repeat, "I just chopped its head off." By the end, Bul-Kathos, caught up in the moment, offered Coulson a drink.
Coulson, a skilled listener, let him talk freely, but sifting through the tales felt like hunting truth in fake news. Yet, Bul-Kathos's stories were true. The meeting left Bul-Kathos satisfied, having vented, while Coulson felt he'd gained nothing. He promised to return with fine liquor, recording the talk with Bul-Kathos's consent for later analysis. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cleanup crew took Killgrave's body, sparing Bul-Kathos the mess, earning his approval. Coulson, however, felt his hairline receding further.
"Someone! Damn it!" A shout and dull thuds echoed from the basement as Bul-Kathos prepared to cook. He'd forgotten Jessica, locked below.
Opening the door, he watched her bolt past, frantic, to the forge's entrance. Fist marks dented the metal door. "Looks like you owe me a new one," he said, his first words to her. The door still worked, but he fancied replacing it with a crusader's tower shield.
Jessica, awake, remembered everything. Killgrave's control puppeted her body, not her mind. Spotting no corpse, she assumed it was handled. As a private investigator, often a glorified paparazzo, she'd seen oddities; disposing bodies wasn't new. "How much?" she asked, calming, fussing with her hair.
"No idea. Pay what you think," Bul-Kathos replied, clueless about the cost of a ten-centimeter-thick metal door, familiar only with food prices.
Jessica froze, interpreting his words as a demand for a hefty sum, like when she told clients, "Pay what you think," meaning, "Make it worth my while." "My cash might not cover it, but since you dealt with that creep, I'll scrape it together," she said, planning to rob street punks if needed—they couldn't touch her.
"Here's what I've got. Enough for dinner?" She pulled out a ten-dollar bill and coins, placing them on the table. Her blunt familiarity reminded Bul-Kathos of Sonya, making him feel at ease. Barbarians had no time for scheming in a world on the brink of demonic ruin.
"Fine," he said, pocketing the money for Gil's allowance, saving a trip to exchange cash. He grabbed two black bread loaves from a cupboard, poured some of Gil's milk into a pot, and returned the rest to the fridge.
As he heated the milk, Jessica banged a loaf on the table, thudding loudly. "Ten bucks for this?" she exclaimed, stunned. That money could buy a decent meal with meat, maybe drinks. "It's all I've got," Bul-Kathos said, tending the pot. The milk's sweet aroma filled the room, triggering Jessica's hunger, her stomach growling.
"Got any booze?" she asked, masking embarrassment. She craved alcohol—not for pleasure, but to drown the guilt and headaches from Killgrave's control. His death ended her nightmare; she wanted to celebrate.
Bul-Kathos set a bottle of Everclear on the table, hooked on its potency since trying it. In his world, such pure liquor was rare, though it lacked grainy flavor. He'd likely tire of it soon. Jessica, unfazed by where he pulled it from—unsurprised by a man immune to Killgrave—gawked at the 97% alcohol. "This isn't booze; it's straight ethanol," she thought.
As the milk's scent intensified, Bul-Kathos removed it at a boil, pouring it into a ceramic bowl for Jessica. "If the bread's too hard, crumble it in," he said, eating his own loaf and sipping Everclear.
"Alright," Jessica replied, unfussy. Seeing Bul-Kathos eat the rock-hard bread without issue, she knew he wasn't messing with her. She dug in, manners tossed aside, earning more of his approval. Unlike the prim Li-Ming, her straightforwardness wasn't pretentious.
"What brand is this milk?" Jessica asked, amazed, as it erased the lingering discomfort from Killgrave's control. The bread's toughness faded from her mind; the Everclear alone was worth more than her cash, and the milk was miraculous. Though it didn't strengthen her, its energy sated her hunger instantly. She owed him another favor.
(End of Chapter)
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