( funny, he has a tendency to do the same thing — try to put a positive spin on something, anything, regardless of how dire or whatever it might end up being — and while he's always had others to trust to keep him on his toes, he'll be thankful for it in her, because there is never going to be an instance in which he won't find himself in need of a fresh perspective.
which. he gets the feeling that it's going to be doubly true here. he hasn't been able to put his finger on why just yet, but. best to keep that in mind going forward, because heaven forbid he find himself caught unawares.
he huffs out a bit of a laugh, still quiet, still hopefully managing not to draw too much attention to himself just in case that inner clock of angela's isn't quite as on the mark as she thinks it is. ( even though we trust that it will be. that isn't the point. ) ) Chokehold, huh? I'd say so. ( and color him impressed, while we're at it. but that also isn't the point.
it's never going to matter, at least not much that he's too young to carry the weight of the stress that has been heaped on him, again and again, for too damned long; he's always taken it with the proverbial grain of salt, not only because he's always going to think it's his responsibility to take it on for himself, but because it means the people around him won't have to if he does, and that in itself is the kind of reward that only comes from being so much more mature beyond one's years.
he was born tired, and he was born an old man. we've mentioned the first part — what about the second? so. don't worry about all that stress, doc. it all ends up working itself out in the end, even if it means going prematurely white and wearing the sort of posture that atlas must have adopted at some point during his punishment.
those crickets sure are making a nuisance of themselves, aren't they? somehow, he hadn't expected a positive answer — and here we've just gone on for a paragraph about him keeping that positive attitude, wow are we hypocrites — but it is comforting, in a sense, to see that first prisoner freed and looking around quizzically.
and then there's another. and another. and after the third he finally rises from his seat as well, rolling his shoulders in a way that finds the one with its appendage still attached crunching just a little uncomfortably. ( it really didn't feel like he'd been sitting long enough for that to be a thing, but maybe when we mentioned he'd been born an old man, the side effects had decided to come with it.
no. he's still in peak condition. this is really all for the sake of making old man jokes. )
the freed prisoners look to him when he stands, and he nods in their general direction. ) We're going to need your help. ( a beat. ) If you're willing to give it.
( time to glitch the hell out of this sim. gotta get to that hug, after all. )
FINALLY GETS BACK TO THIS god i'm sorry it's been a week
which. he gets the feeling that it's going to be doubly true here. he hasn't been able to put his finger on why just yet, but. best to keep that in mind going forward, because heaven forbid he find himself caught unawares.
he huffs out a bit of a laugh, still quiet, still hopefully managing not to draw too much attention to himself just in case that inner clock of angela's isn't quite as on the mark as she thinks it is. ( even though we trust that it will be. that isn't the point. ) ) Chokehold, huh? I'd say so. ( and color him impressed, while we're at it. but that also isn't the point.
it's never going to matter, at least not much that he's too young to carry the weight of the stress that has been heaped on him, again and again, for too damned long; he's always taken it with the proverbial grain of salt, not only because he's always going to think it's his responsibility to take it on for himself, but because it means the people around him won't have to if he does, and that in itself is the kind of reward that only comes from being so much more mature beyond one's years.
he was born tired, and he was born an old man. we've mentioned the first part — what about the second? so. don't worry about all that stress, doc. it all ends up working itself out in the end, even if it means going prematurely white and wearing the sort of posture that atlas must have adopted at some point during his punishment.
those crickets sure are making a nuisance of themselves, aren't they? somehow, he hadn't expected a positive answer — and here we've just gone on for a paragraph about him keeping that positive attitude, wow are we hypocrites — but it is comforting, in a sense, to see that first prisoner freed and looking around quizzically.
and then there's another. and another. and after the third he finally rises from his seat as well, rolling his shoulders in a way that finds the one with its appendage still attached crunching just a little uncomfortably. ( it really didn't feel like he'd been sitting long enough for that to be a thing, but maybe when we mentioned he'd been born an old man, the side effects had decided to come with it.
no. he's still in peak condition. this is really all for the sake of making old man jokes. )
the freed prisoners look to him when he stands, and he nods in their general direction. ) We're going to need your help. ( a beat. ) If you're willing to give it.
( time to glitch the hell out of this sim. gotta get to that hug, after all. )