03-20-2024, 03:50 PM
Near didn't even get halfway through the video game: he gave up during the tutorial level. He is a parody of a rationalist, denying his own eyes because theory has told him it's impossible. Jude has never forgiven the insult. Indeed Jude's deepest motivation has been sniffing out an apology, an 'I was wrong, I'm sorry,' for his cool rejection that night, his messy insistence on drinking, the wrecked car, the narrow escape. This is all a replay of the tutorial level.
Only the tutorial level is over now, because there's Guthrie.
Jude is like a different person. After getting into middle-schooler level squabbles with Near, he's suddenly composed. He is so overflowing with self-assurance, the fountain of his self-confidence and entitlement completely uninterrupted by Guthrie's appearance. He radiates the unspoken sense that he is entitled to Near, Near's couch, Near's apartment, Near's everything: that he is where he is supposed to be, unmistakeably.
The way Jude smiles as he says, "I'm a consultant," is so sticky and sweet it could be spread across toast. "It's a little rougher than it used to be, but--" Near interrupts him. Jude pauses politely.
As Guthrie steps over the threshold, Jude buzzes with warm-fuzzy feelings. The opportunity to lie on an extraordinary level has dawned upon the horizon: the chance to come up with the stupidest stories possible, which Near cannot argue with, which he must allow Jude to tell if he doesn't want to own up to his first lie. "He's always been shifty," Jude says, catching Near's eye. "Wouldn't know a straight answer if it hit him in the head." Or the chest. Like a shoe.
Only the tutorial level is over now, because there's Guthrie.
Jude is like a different person. After getting into middle-schooler level squabbles with Near, he's suddenly composed. He is so overflowing with self-assurance, the fountain of his self-confidence and entitlement completely uninterrupted by Guthrie's appearance. He radiates the unspoken sense that he is entitled to Near, Near's couch, Near's apartment, Near's everything: that he is where he is supposed to be, unmistakeably.
The way Jude smiles as he says, "I'm a consultant," is so sticky and sweet it could be spread across toast. "It's a little rougher than it used to be, but--" Near interrupts him. Jude pauses politely.
As Guthrie steps over the threshold, Jude buzzes with warm-fuzzy feelings. The opportunity to lie on an extraordinary level has dawned upon the horizon: the chance to come up with the stupidest stories possible, which Near cannot argue with, which he must allow Jude to tell if he doesn't want to own up to his first lie. "He's always been shifty," Jude says, catching Near's eye. "Wouldn't know a straight answer if it hit him in the head." Or the chest. Like a shoe.