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This was a terrible idea.

Jeremiah was doing it anyway.

He did, at least, have something in mind. Especially after the encounter that Algie had had with Sunny. Not that it made this any easier or make the feeling in his gut go away. The detective closed the door on his car, the one where he got out of the driver's side and everyone had to double-take, and checked his jacket pocket for the items there.

One firm pat to make sure it was there and he was walking towards the beach. Briefly he had thought about calling, or going to the house where she apparently had a room, but both of those things ...

The thing's voice lingered in his head at odds with the look on Sunny's face the last time he had seen her. Jeremiah raked a hand through his hair and tried to ignore the fact that it wasn't just the usual chill that was making him feel cold.

The path was always a mixture of footprints and it always seemed to lead to Sunny.

Jeremiah arched an eyebrow at the pit (not saying anything, not saying anything) and walked around it a bit to see the size of it, his eyes glancing towards the students that were not that far away. Perhaps for the best.

"'lo, Sunny." He crouched down before he could stop himself, looking to her and then the pit and then back again. Jeremiah was silent for a moment, trying to obviously work through whatever it was in his head. With the students there he was not exactly in the mood to be seen giving a box of bullets to someone. Instead he was pulling the second item out of his pocket and offering them to her.

It wasn't kreteks, instead it was a brand of cigarettes that he preferred. John Player cigarettes weren't the best but they were all he smoked when he did so continually.

"I was actually just wanting to talk to you, ask you a couple questions." Which meant the cigarettes were a trade even if they were a personal item.

Always could be ...

His look faltered, just for a moment, but there was nothing to be done for it.

This was bitter.

"How many times?" he asked quietly. "How many times have you done this?" How many times had she watched them make decisions and choices and ... Jeremiah's head hurt.

Jeremiah let out a breath, head falling forward and bowed for a moment. The information was appreciated but then -

- he raised his head up, staring at her and then his shoulders fell. The scratch that had appeared on his neck when he had made the deal had long since healed but it itched suddenly, uncomfortably. "I don't know," it was an honest answer, "I really don't. Nor am I certain that whatever I get is worth what I have to pay."

It was everything he did to not just sit down, to stay crouched, to not sit and reach out and take a cigarette from the pack and smoke. Sunny was given a smile but it was a sad one. "Do I always do this?"

Jeremiah winced, the smile faltered and shifted to a neutral expression.

"I suppose I deserve that." His fingers stretched out and then stilled; no, not fidgeting or moving, not yet. "... but in the end, what it is could be worth everything and it has to be for what was given up." He looked at her, studied her face. "I'm sorry, Sunny, that this me can't be your friend."

"Then you understand humans less than I thought," Jeremiah replied immediately, something coiled inside and then tightening. "Perhaps if I had been younger then I may have thought that way but instead ..."

He was pushing himself up, standing and rolling his shoulders as he stuck his hands into his pockets. The other item was there in his pocket, his fingers closed tightly around it. "Instead I wonder what I've given up. Not that it matters now." There was already hurt, there was already a thought in the back of his mind that would not leave that he had made a terrible deal - that he had ******** up in a most spectacular way.

The detective pushed past it, closed his eyes and opened them. Much in the same way that Sunny seemed to shutter off, so had Jeremiah.

"There was a man that lived here once. Jeremiah Tailor." His head tilted. "Was that another me?"

Jeremiah blinked.

Somehow it was not surprising given that a spectre had painted them. He smoothed a hand across his face, not quite sure how he was going to proceed. Algie and himself had wanted to go to the house, now there was even more of a reason.

There was nothing else really then, to ask, but still ... This ate at him. Then entire deal but he would abide within it. Distance was there, distance was held.

"Understand and safeguard, that's all I can do," he looked over to her, head tilting to the side. "So tell me something to help me understand you, Sunny."

"I think I've seen that sky through you," Jeremiah admitted, mind going back to that moment when she had helped him. When he had been something small again on the shoulders of something much greater than himself. The sky had been beautiful and endless.

"Not that it's the same or that we'll understand everything." The detective reached into his pocket and finally set the box on the ground next to her. It was wrapped in plain brown paper with twine holding it shut. He would leave out the bit about how that did not mean people would not try, it was part of being human. Trying until the bitter end.

He stood back up properly, hands stuffed back into his pockets. "Thank you for your cooperation, Sunny." This time there would be no proper goodbye, just a slight incline of his head. It did not help the feeling in his chest or the itch at his throat, but he had to leave.

Understand and safeguard, that was it.

(Nevermind he knew, from her tone, the level of cattiness he had coming. Jeremiah absolutely deserved it but he was not sticking around for it.)