[ Yeah. Yeah, actually. Son of a fucking bitch. Kendall isn't sure what he expected from Neal, but it's a relief to hear that, to know that from an outside perspective, someone else can see the situation and think that it's fucked up, that it's wrong. He feels firmly settled in the conversation now; the panic about everything else has dissipated. That's not to say he's comfortable; he just feels like he can talk through this without worrying about how convincing he is. ]
He sent me to rehab. Like, this fancy fuckin'... recovery centre in Iceland. But I was only actually there for like two days before he called me back to do damage control. And – I mean, I know it's not... [ An excuse, he means to say, but what he manages is a vague gesture. ] But, it just... I had to be back there and fighting the private equity bid, and then my sister was pushing her way in, and then there was the stuff about cruises coming out, and I just felt like I couldn't... Like there wasn't any time for me to get clean. And you have no idea how – how fucking hard it was to push through all that, and at the back of my head this whole fucking time, I'm just thinking about what he said. About how it could be the defining moment of my whole life if I didn't let him help me.
[At the description of rehab--at the senior Roy pulling Kendall out of it that way--Neal makes a noise that sounds like nothing so much as puh, a sharp, hard exhalation of disgust.]
Yeah, he pulled you out of it to keep you overwhelmed. To keep you from thinking. Make sure you didn't have quiet or space to breathe or people to help you do it. He let you see what could be a safe space to recover and then forced you straight into chaos, to make sure that even the idea of recovery seemed impossible. It might not have been that actively calculated on his part, but it was instinctive if it wasn't intentional. Sure, it probably was damage control by some arbitrary grand standard, but it was also just control.
[Save Kendall from ruin, give him a taste of comparative peace, then drag him out of that and into chaos? Yeah. Neal is unimpressed. It might have been hamfisted, unsubtle, lazy control, but the end result was the same.
Neal rubs his lips with this tips of his fingers, glaring at nothing on the opposite wall. He makes private note of the mention of Kendall's sister, 'stuff about cruises,' the idea that there's ever time to get clean. He's going to need to start his own file to make sure he's keeping track of things.] If it helps at all, the thing I thought would be the defining moment of my whole life rapidly became a blip on the radar in the years following.
[It's a statement made in irony, but no less true for that.] Conviction for the forgery of 'uncrackable' bank bonds. Then I thought my defining moment would be breaking out of prison when I had three months left on my bit, then I thought it would be getting my girlfriend killed--you get the picture. There's... A lot of us on board have things we thought our lives would never recover from. But we're here. And they did.
[ It's a relief once again to know that Neal is new to this, that he was once in Kendall's shoes and in the scheme of things it wasn't even really that long ago. If he hadn't been, Kendall doesn't think he would've been half as receptive to anything Neal was saying. And all that aside, it's a relief not to have the focus of the conversation pinpointed on him anymore. ]
I don't know if I'm flattered or offended that that's the part of the trifecta that got your primary attention. [It's amused, though. And it's odd that he can be amused immediately after mentioning Kate's death, even if she's not dead any more. Even if Malcolm fixed that particular tragedy with his deal. It still doesn't feel real.] Supermax, in point of fact, yes. Walked myself out the front door, hotwired a car in the parking lot, and drove it to the airport. Where I pretended to be a valet and stole a better one. ...I needed to talk to someone and they wouldn't come visit.
[COUGH COUGH. He hoists himself to his feet.] Whiskey? Friend of mine has a bottomless bottle that I bum a decanter from every once in a while. It's good.
Forgery of one of the highest-security savings bonds in existence at the time, and the assumption--rightly enough--that I was a substantial flight risk.
[He pours a pair of glasses, a reasonable amount for both of them, and offers one to Kendall on his return to the couch.]
Which didn't help when I actually decided to break out, but the effort was flattering.
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[ Yeah. Yeah, actually. Son of a fucking bitch. Kendall isn't sure what he expected from Neal, but it's a relief to hear that, to know that from an outside perspective, someone else can see the situation and think that it's fucked up, that it's wrong. He feels firmly settled in the conversation now; the panic about everything else has dissipated. That's not to say he's comfortable; he just feels like he can talk through this without worrying about how convincing he is. ]
He sent me to rehab. Like, this fancy fuckin'... recovery centre in Iceland. But I was only actually there for like two days before he called me back to do damage control. And – I mean, I know it's not... [ An excuse, he means to say, but what he manages is a vague gesture. ] But, it just... I had to be back there and fighting the private equity bid, and then my sister was pushing her way in, and then there was the stuff about cruises coming out, and I just felt like I couldn't... Like there wasn't any time for me to get clean. And you have no idea how – how fucking hard it was to push through all that, and at the back of my head this whole fucking time, I'm just thinking about what he said. About how it could be the defining moment of my whole life if I didn't let him help me.
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Yeah, he pulled you out of it to keep you overwhelmed. To keep you from thinking. Make sure you didn't have quiet or space to breathe or people to help you do it. He let you see what could be a safe space to recover and then forced you straight into chaos, to make sure that even the idea of recovery seemed impossible. It might not have been that actively calculated on his part, but it was instinctive if it wasn't intentional. Sure, it probably was damage control by some arbitrary grand standard, but it was also just control.
[Save Kendall from ruin, give him a taste of comparative peace, then drag him out of that and into chaos? Yeah. Neal is unimpressed. It might have been hamfisted, unsubtle, lazy control, but the end result was the same.
Neal rubs his lips with this tips of his fingers, glaring at nothing on the opposite wall. He makes private note of the mention of Kendall's sister, 'stuff about cruises,' the idea that there's ever time to get clean. He's going to need to start his own file to make sure he's keeping track of things.] If it helps at all, the thing I thought would be the defining moment of my whole life rapidly became a blip on the radar in the years following.
[It's a statement made in irony, but no less true for that.] Conviction for the forgery of 'uncrackable' bank bonds. Then I thought my defining moment would be breaking out of prison when I had three months left on my bit, then I thought it would be getting my girlfriend killed--you get the picture. There's... A lot of us on board have things we thought our lives would never recover from. But we're here. And they did.
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You broke out of prison?
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[COUGH COUGH. He hoists himself to his feet.] Whiskey? Friend of mine has a bottomless bottle that I bum a decanter from every once in a while. It's good.
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[ Kendall drags a hand over his face, and when he emerges from behind his palm he's looking at Neal with a new pair of eyes. ]
Sorry. I mean, you can say no, you don't have to answer. But what the fuck did you do to get in supermax? Was it the bonds thing, or...?
no subject
[He pours a pair of glasses, a reasonable amount for both of them, and offers one to Kendall on his return to the couch.]
Which didn't help when I actually decided to break out, but the effort was flattering.