If he’d said “close your eyes”, the firm hand on Tim’s arm wouldn’t make Tim’s heart sink down to his stomach. Every time people have touched him today, they’ve hurt him. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t want to be touched right now if it’s not necessary.
And it’s not necessary, but Guardian’s a superhero. Tim follows willingly. His feet drag a bit when they go past the whole in the wall.
“Bu-“ But why aren’t they going out the way the heroes came in? Is it not safe? Is that what that conversation was?
He doesn’t want to ask questions - if he’s not supposed to know things for national security reasons, then Tim shouldn’t be too nosy. He only needs to know what he sees, and he’s supposed to forget that too.
The dead-end room though. Tim realizes there isn’t a second door pretty quickly, and panic claws up his throat. He can’t quite put together why. He has no reason to think the good guys are questionable. Not here, not ever.
But then… Guardian says that, and Tim has burning questions that he can’t fix in the appropriate priority queue.
“No,” he says in the softest whisper, with a terrified glance over his shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
They saved him. They beat up the bad guys. He watched them do it. Why is he still at risk of not living? “I’ve been doing what you say - I won’t tell anyone about this. I’ll tell them I got drunk and woke up in a dumpster, okay? I won’t give away secrets, I promise. I want to live, but you saved me already. And then you said you’re debriefing me and taking me home. Is that what you mean by understanding?”
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And it’s not necessary, but Guardian’s a superhero. Tim follows willingly. His feet drag a bit when they go past the whole in the wall.
“Bu-“ But why aren’t they going out the way the heroes came in? Is it not safe? Is that what that conversation was?
He doesn’t want to ask questions - if he’s not supposed to know things for national security reasons, then Tim shouldn’t be too nosy. He only needs to know what he sees, and he’s supposed to forget that too.
The dead-end room though. Tim realizes there isn’t a second door pretty quickly, and panic claws up his throat. He can’t quite put together why. He has no reason to think the good guys are questionable. Not here, not ever.
But then… Guardian says that, and Tim has burning questions that he can’t fix in the appropriate priority queue.
“No,” he says in the softest whisper, with a terrified glance over his shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
They saved him. They beat up the bad guys. He watched them do it. Why is he still at risk of not living? “I’ve been doing what you say - I won’t tell anyone about this. I’ll tell them I got drunk and woke up in a dumpster, okay? I won’t give away secrets, I promise. I want to live, but you saved me already. And then you said you’re debriefing me and taking me home. Is that what you mean by understanding?”