02-21-2019, 07:29 AM
The question being posed was involuntary - it had to be asked. On the other hand, the answer itself was entirely voluntary. The trick with the bottle was simply a way to shake Near from his complacence, and, very briefly, his denial. Denial was like the surface of a calm lake: apt to resume, once no longer disturbed. Why go to the trouble to ask? Because it was an important question. Jude had come all the way here to ask it. Now, it had been asked. Now, it had all been done.
(What had the question been, anyway?)
There was no forcing Near to do the things that Jude needed him to do. He could not be forced to believe; he could not be forced to assist. Well, maybe for a little while, he could - but things just didn't work like that, not for Jude, not for his particular unpleasant situation. Had Near's own will been secondary, there would never have been a conversation on the lawn, no half-hearted scheme to lure him to the bar. Jude would have done some other mind-numbing magic trick and been done with it. As it was, Jude had a headache, and the only mind he wanted to numb was his own.
"You said you didn't want to know." Jude stopped partway to the door and rubbed his face with his whole, uncut hand. He finally looked somewhat more human, his cool, aloof expression melting with the heat of his throbbing temples. So Courtland was a jackass and Near wanted to confine his knowledge to craft liquors - fine, fine. Jude's other hand was still bleeding. Red ran down his fingertips as he let his hand dangle. He figured he'd grab the towel from the other room, retrieve his backpack, and go hide in some dark corner until morning. Unless his luck was exceptionally poor, the family wouldn't have found him by then.
Some people, when rejected, clung to hope in the face of it. Jude was no such optimist.
(What had the question been, anyway?)
There was no forcing Near to do the things that Jude needed him to do. He could not be forced to believe; he could not be forced to assist. Well, maybe for a little while, he could - but things just didn't work like that, not for Jude, not for his particular unpleasant situation. Had Near's own will been secondary, there would never have been a conversation on the lawn, no half-hearted scheme to lure him to the bar. Jude would have done some other mind-numbing magic trick and been done with it. As it was, Jude had a headache, and the only mind he wanted to numb was his own.
"You said you didn't want to know." Jude stopped partway to the door and rubbed his face with his whole, uncut hand. He finally looked somewhat more human, his cool, aloof expression melting with the heat of his throbbing temples. So Courtland was a jackass and Near wanted to confine his knowledge to craft liquors - fine, fine. Jude's other hand was still bleeding. Red ran down his fingertips as he let his hand dangle. He figured he'd grab the towel from the other room, retrieve his backpack, and go hide in some dark corner until morning. Unless his luck was exceptionally poor, the family wouldn't have found him by then.
Some people, when rejected, clung to hope in the face of it. Jude was no such optimist.