“Depends on who you ask.” Near has made a series of conscious decisions to minimize his own value to society. See: every important life decision. Nevertheless, even little things, viewed from the right angle against a narrow enough field, might be considered useful. He has confiscated car keys from drunks and returned lost credit cards. He has let people in trouble crash on his couch. He has given change to people on street corners. Occasionally he will return a shopping cart left in the middle of a parking lot to its designated area. Bonus: he has not only bought dinner for an astonishingly ungrateful Jude, he has also not drop-kicked Jude out of the apartment, which you might think Jude, who is apparently in no hurry to leave, would see some benefit to himself in. It is impossible to imagine Jude, even in the context of normal day-to-day life, minus the whole powers crap, intentionally doing something that is helpful for another person. Near can only imagine him walking right past the stray cart, not even noticing its existence.
But it’s not really a question. It’s not a question, and it’s not an answer. It’s just Jude making noises because he feels cornered. Can’t answer the question about Courtland, can’t justify the whole “I’m special because I have magic powers” act because they’re not good for shit except possibly ending the world. Can’t have a conversation. So he’s turning Near’s taunt back on him.
“But nothing, probably,” he concludes with a dry chuckle. “It’s not really apples to apples though, is it? With me not having all the cool magic powers. What exactly can you do? Besides unbreaking bottles and disappearing acts?” The latter, he supposes, was useful to Jude. Maybe the former was enough to impress old Dad. The recycling implications! An intelligent man could really corner the market. He's serious, though. More serious. For years his impression of whatever the hell Jude can do has flattened into "some vague bullshit." Now here's the wonderboy in the flesh, and it's time to sort it out.
“I remember you said something about looking into the past or the present or the future. How’s that working for you? You have to come get this, you know. I’m not waiting your table.”
But it’s not really a question. It’s not a question, and it’s not an answer. It’s just Jude making noises because he feels cornered. Can’t answer the question about Courtland, can’t justify the whole “I’m special because I have magic powers” act because they’re not good for shit except possibly ending the world. Can’t have a conversation. So he’s turning Near’s taunt back on him.
“But nothing, probably,” he concludes with a dry chuckle. “It’s not really apples to apples though, is it? With me not having all the cool magic powers. What exactly can you do? Besides unbreaking bottles and disappearing acts?” The latter, he supposes, was useful to Jude. Maybe the former was enough to impress old Dad. The recycling implications! An intelligent man could really corner the market. He's serious, though. More serious. For years his impression of whatever the hell Jude can do has flattened into "some vague bullshit." Now here's the wonderboy in the flesh, and it's time to sort it out.
“I remember you said something about looking into the past or the present or the future. How’s that working for you? You have to come get this, you know. I’m not waiting your table.”