HALF LIGHT - (If Jean sees you. He will yell at you. He will yell a lot.)
EMPATHY - (He has a lot to be upset about.)
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - (He is your responsibility, Yefreitor. You aren’t only his superior officer. You’re his partner. You are not just going to jog away, and leave him here. Stop that. I can tell you’re backing up. Are you trying to sneak past me? I'm in your head. Stop!)
Harry freezes and miserably stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, watching the almost-familiar movements of the man as he furiously talks to himself. He waits, expecting to remember something, but he doesn’t. Just the vague sense that this is something he’s seen him do before. And the vague impulse to give him benzos until he stops, but whether that’s a now-thought or a memory he isn’t sure. Mostly he just really doesn’t want to get yelled at right now.
LOGIC - (If Jean doesn’t see you *now* he will find you *later* and yell at you.)
CONCEPTUALIZATION - (It’s an inevitability. Satellite is an apt description. His path is persistent and unchanging.)
INLAND EMPIRE) - (And unfortunately trapped in your orbit, as erratic as it may be.)
COMPOSURE - (Please put the sunglasses on. I don’t want him to see you cry again. It’s really embarrassing.)
He shuffles in his pockets for the sunglasses. Oh wow it’s hard to see in these at night. He takes them off.
At least he looks…better. Significantly better than he did on the ride out of Martinaise. Most obviously, he isn’t bleeding profusely. His face is a lot less puffy, and most importantly for Jean’s sake: he still looks 100% human on the outside.
INLAND EMPIRE - (Or at least as human as Jean ever thought you were.)
Same disco-ass blazer, same pants, same snakeskin shoes. Same old Harry. He eats people now, though. That’s new. Hopefully….almost certainly. He'd probably know if he ate a guy before, right?
“Hey, Jean.” Harry waves to him, other hand nervously tracing the golden head of his sick-as-hell bolo tie. “What’s…up.”
i
EMPATHY - (He has a lot to be upset about.)
ESPIRIT DE CORPS - (He is your responsibility, Yefreitor. You aren’t only his superior officer. You’re his partner. You are not just going to jog away, and leave him here. Stop that. I can tell you’re backing up. Are you trying to sneak past me? I'm in your head. Stop!)
Harry freezes and miserably stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, watching the almost-familiar movements of the man as he furiously talks to himself. He waits, expecting to remember something, but he doesn’t. Just the vague sense that this is something he’s seen him do before. And the vague impulse to give him benzos until he stops, but whether that’s a now-thought or a memory he isn’t sure. Mostly he just really doesn’t want to get yelled at right now.
LOGIC - (If Jean doesn’t see you *now* he will find you *later* and yell at you.)
CONCEPTUALIZATION - (It’s an inevitability. Satellite is an apt description. His path is persistent and unchanging.)
INLAND EMPIRE) - (And unfortunately trapped in your orbit, as erratic as it may be.)
COMPOSURE - (Please put the sunglasses on. I don’t want him to see you cry again. It’s really embarrassing.)
He shuffles in his pockets for the sunglasses. Oh wow it’s hard to see in these at night. He takes them off.
At least he looks…better. Significantly better than he did on the ride out of Martinaise. Most obviously, he isn’t bleeding profusely. His face is a lot less puffy, and most importantly for Jean’s sake: he still looks 100% human on the outside.
INLAND EMPIRE - (Or at least as human as Jean ever thought you were.)
Same disco-ass blazer, same pants, same snakeskin shoes. Same old Harry. He eats people now, though. That’s new. Hopefully….almost certainly. He'd probably know if he ate a guy before, right?
“Hey, Jean.” Harry waves to him, other hand nervously tracing the golden head of his sick-as-hell bolo tie. “What’s…up.”