“Okay,” Tim echoes. He would prefer to leave now, but understands that Guardian has a job to do. Tim is fine. He’s fine.
Tim doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He’s just present in the room, trying to be patient and brave. He thinks being quiet and still is passable for both. He’s waiting here for a bit, and then Guardian will take him home.
Mutated victims. Mutagenia. He can’t ignore the obvious anymore: the other things in the cells. They weren’t things. They were victims. People.
As the call continues, Tim amends that. He’s waiting here for a bit, and then Guardian will debrief him and take him home. That’s still very reasonable, and they give you coffee and vending machine food in interview rooms. On the crime dramas and re-enactments, anyway.
But Guardian’s face falls. Tim sees it. He has been watching the hero - it’s more comforting than looking over destruction, and Guardian is nicer than the rest (an arbitrary decision if there ever was one).
No, his face definitely falls and he takes the others with him. Tim thinks he’s a good judge of people, and so I’d rather rot in a brig is just confirming that they’ve been told something that they really object to. It’s like watching Coach dress someone down in the middle of practice.
“Time to take me home before I turn into a pumpkin?” It’s a nervous joke. An especially bad one that he immediately cringes at, because Mutagenia could have turned him into a pumpkin.
But he doesn’t know what to say as he takes a step forward to go with Guardian, and there’s a tremendous urge to fill the space after the caller sucked all the oxygen out of the room. “My name’s Tim. If you’re going to carry me off, you should at least know my name.”
(The crime shows also say to tell your abductors your name, repeatedly, to make them see you as a human being.)
no subject
Tim doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He’s just present in the room, trying to be patient and brave. He thinks being quiet and still is passable for both. He’s waiting here for a bit, and then Guardian will take him home.
Mutated victims. Mutagenia. He can’t ignore the obvious anymore: the other things in the cells. They weren’t things. They were victims. People.
As the call continues, Tim amends that. He’s waiting here for a bit, and then Guardian will debrief him and take him home. That’s still very reasonable, and they give you coffee and vending machine food in interview rooms. On the crime dramas and re-enactments, anyway.
But Guardian’s face falls. Tim sees it. He has been watching the hero - it’s more comforting than looking over destruction, and Guardian is nicer than the rest (an arbitrary decision if there ever was one).
No, his face definitely falls and he takes the others with him. Tim thinks he’s a good judge of people, and so I’d rather rot in a brig is just confirming that they’ve been told something that they really object to. It’s like watching Coach dress someone down in the middle of practice.
“Time to take me home before I turn into a pumpkin?” It’s a nervous joke. An especially bad one that he immediately cringes at, because Mutagenia could have turned him into a pumpkin.
But he doesn’t know what to say as he takes a step forward to go with Guardian, and there’s a tremendous urge to fill the space after the caller sucked all the oxygen out of the room. “My name’s Tim. If you’re going to carry me off, you should at least know my name.”
(The crime shows also say to tell your abductors your name, repeatedly, to make them see you as a human being.)
(Weird time to think about that.)