To keep from snapping back, Jude drinks his water. He drinks it slowly, slow sip after slow sip, his Adam's apple bobbing. Yes, he is extremely worried Near will turn him in to his evil fucking family. He is worried because the fate of seven billion people or so hangs in the balance. He is conscious that for several billions of that seven billion, horrible things are happening anyways, but perhaps one day, a hundred or so years from now, the survivors can make something of the world. Jude is trying to keep the car that is fate from taking the wrong exit, the final exit, and yes, that worries him.
It's worried him more over time, actually. Sheltered as he was, Jude's interactions with the average American were limited. He did not understand how different he was; nor did he grasp the stakes. In the New World, his place was secured. It is not as though there are more than two walkie-talkies for these diabolical alien wavelengths; whatever nightmares will descend, he would have at least some exemption. He wasn't worried for himself, and his worry for humanity was more abstract. Slowly, it has become tangible. What will happen to the nice Southwest Airlines check-in lady at the Miami airport? What will happen to the ballerinas of the New York City Ballet company? What will happen to the Portland rose garden?
What will happen to Near?
As Near tells him a stupid fucking story about the stupid dog neither of them care about, Jude thinks about this. (First he thinks about pouring the remaining water onto Near's head.) Stupid, thinking he'd be anything else. Jude becomes offended on the junkie's behalf.
"Did you." Jude doesn't want to know, but he does know that he is expected to produce a series of words that isn't 'I don't care'. He knows enough to guess the junkie was a boyfriend, because he knows Near is an only child. Terribly annoying man. Whatever Juliet did to him, it was either too much or not enough.
It's worried him more over time, actually. Sheltered as he was, Jude's interactions with the average American were limited. He did not understand how different he was; nor did he grasp the stakes. In the New World, his place was secured. It is not as though there are more than two walkie-talkies for these diabolical alien wavelengths; whatever nightmares will descend, he would have at least some exemption. He wasn't worried for himself, and his worry for humanity was more abstract. Slowly, it has become tangible. What will happen to the nice Southwest Airlines check-in lady at the Miami airport? What will happen to the ballerinas of the New York City Ballet company? What will happen to the Portland rose garden?
What will happen to Near?
As Near tells him a stupid fucking story about the stupid dog neither of them care about, Jude thinks about this. (First he thinks about pouring the remaining water onto Near's head.) Stupid, thinking he'd be anything else. Jude becomes offended on the junkie's behalf.
"Did you." Jude doesn't want to know, but he does know that he is expected to produce a series of words that isn't 'I don't care'. He knows enough to guess the junkie was a boyfriend, because he knows Near is an only child. Terribly annoying man. Whatever Juliet did to him, it was either too much or not enough.