07-11-2022, 02:35 AM
His brows furrow. "You literally... said... 'they ever find you?'"
Jude has grown up in his year on his own. He's had to learn to do a lot of things that traditionally someone else has done for him, and that includes talking to people. He certainly practiced his pitch a great deal more after he narrowly escaped the Reaches -- sat in front of a mirror and everything, wrote down what he wanted to say and repeated it, over and over. It helped, but not in proportion to the effort he invested. He didn't know what sounded good to people, what sounded real. Presently, he has a much better idea.
But Near turns him into the person he was that night, drinking too much and seeing the shadows liquefy on the library floor, looking into the room in the wine cellar where he'd covered his hands in blood and conveyed the whispers from beyond. Near turns Jude into a pedantic idiot. Combined with his Steve Jobs attitude, this produces the social equivalent of ammonia.
His cheeks puff with air as Near explains a Christian saint, the bubble of his mouth popping with a forced sigh as the other man goes on. This is so stupid. I think I am becoming more stupid. "It's not that easy," he complains, hating the wheedling note in his voice. What was he expecting from Near? An apology, maybe? 'I missed you'? As if there was anything to be missed.
"They're going to look until they find me, and I'm going to run until I figure out how to stop them." He surrenders to the peevish note he can't drive out of his voice. He scowls at Near's empty Starbucks drink. Were there anything left, he would appropriate it for his own thirst. It would be too immature to grab the cup and dup the ice down Near's collar, but the thought crosses his mind.
Jude has grown up in his year on his own. He's had to learn to do a lot of things that traditionally someone else has done for him, and that includes talking to people. He certainly practiced his pitch a great deal more after he narrowly escaped the Reaches -- sat in front of a mirror and everything, wrote down what he wanted to say and repeated it, over and over. It helped, but not in proportion to the effort he invested. He didn't know what sounded good to people, what sounded real. Presently, he has a much better idea.
But Near turns him into the person he was that night, drinking too much and seeing the shadows liquefy on the library floor, looking into the room in the wine cellar where he'd covered his hands in blood and conveyed the whispers from beyond. Near turns Jude into a pedantic idiot. Combined with his Steve Jobs attitude, this produces the social equivalent of ammonia.
His cheeks puff with air as Near explains a Christian saint, the bubble of his mouth popping with a forced sigh as the other man goes on. This is so stupid. I think I am becoming more stupid. "It's not that easy," he complains, hating the wheedling note in his voice. What was he expecting from Near? An apology, maybe? 'I missed you'? As if there was anything to be missed.
"They're going to look until they find me, and I'm going to run until I figure out how to stop them." He surrenders to the peevish note he can't drive out of his voice. He scowls at Near's empty Starbucks drink. Were there anything left, he would appropriate it for his own thirst. It would be too immature to grab the cup and dup the ice down Near's collar, but the thought crosses his mind.