Though Jesse would've loved to stay and brutalize the rest of the rioters -something about strangling the life from a mans throat was extremely exhilarating to him -Mr. White was right. Jesse was damn good, but he wasn't that good, so he chose to fall back like the rest. Even as his future partners in "crime" fought off dregs of the prisoners, Jesse began moving away from the orgy of orange that threatened to overtake the motley crew of would-be-escapees. While he made a quick and careful strut away, Mr. White set a much quicker pace that Jesse was all too loathe to follow. Though he had kept himself fit out of boredom, a morning jog was not on his bucket list.
Jesse regretted his slower pace as he felt a hand heavily grip his shoulder. Not hesitating, he dipped backwards, delivering his elbow directly into the face of his attempted assaulter. He turned to finish off the failed combatant, only to stop when he recognized the face. "Holy shit, it's been too long, asshole! Jesse exclaimed, putting a name to the bloodied face. "Hey, remember that time you tried to kill me with a deck of cards and a TV?" He shouted above the din, kicking the man back into the crowd of rioters. "Yeah, so do I." He said in a more grim tone, turning to sprint away from the ever nearing wave. He managed to make some good distance and almost catch up to Mr. White, by some miracle of luck, though he was still a few solid paces behind. As he rushed through the guarded door, he could feel it slamming shut just behind him.
Jesse laughed slightly, bending over to catch his breath. What started as a light chuckle slowly grew to a cackle, then to full fledged bellowing laughter that racked his body and left him curled up on the floor. He stayed that way for a good few seconds before regaining his composure, and stumbling to his feet to follow the others into their new home -The Gladius. As he boarded the ship, he stretched out his arms wide, taking in a deep breath. This ship marked a new start -freedom, with a small caveat. A very small, very explosive caveat, inside his brain. Jesse did his best to not think about that last part.
Noting Callums haste to get the ship moving, Jesse gladly took his time meandering to find the first, most important thing he had heard Mr. White mention -weaponry and armor. Surely enough, some searching revealed an armory aboard the ship. "Goddamn if I'm not going to be armed as long as I'm on board with these jackholes." He thought to himself as he entered the armory. Most notable in the armory were crates labeled with the names of the inmates stacked inside the armory, which Jesse made a beeline for. Very carefully, he moved aside a crate labelled 'Scarleth "Ruby Red" Pevensey', to find his own name on the crate beneath.
Jesse's smile already wide, only grew wider as he cracked open his crate. Inside lied a suit, his guns, and more personal effects. Jesse quickly stripped from his bright orange jumpsuit, neither taking note of nor caring for his own indecency. Being locked in a moon jail with little to no entertainment gives one plenty of time to work on keeping in good form, and goddamn if Jesse hadn't used that time well. Taking his own sweet time, he squeezed the best he could into his old suit, which still fit surprisingly well. At each hip he holstered a Stallion revolver, and he stored two Pitbull pistols on his body -one in his boot, and one elsewhere. As soon as he was satisfied with his outfitting, Jesse exited the armory, storing the old jumpsuit in the crate which he pushed back into a corner.
Dressed to the nines now, in a light pink dress shirt and white suit, as well as armed and dangerous, Jesse felt better than he had in a long time. Was he trapped on a ship with seven assholes and an explosive implant in his head? Yeah. But, silver lining -he wasn't on that goddamned moon jail anymore. No better way to celebrate this than something inebriating, so Jesse began to stalk around the ship, hunting for the bar. As he walked, he pulled out his cards, and almost subconsciously shuffled the deck with elaborate flourishes in time with his movement.
