[ It's odd. Knowing that there is someone else out there, that would be like this. That would understand exactly what a harsh, cruel world requires to make change, what it is to take that circumstance, and bend it and force it into place. With violence, subjugation, drugs, or contracts, it didn't matter. What mattered was the goal, that change β but was there anyone else who could understand what it was to give up on it, would turn it aside or walk away and let it rot in its own misery, if it meant...
How odd. To know that there is someone else out there like him. Monsters circling one another and finding... what? Solace? It isn't comfort.
Understanding, perhaps. They'd promised it, between blood and bites, in that darkened hallway half a world away. Was that not what this was? Understanding? Was it β or could it β be more than that? ]
Fans? No, a grouchy old man like you has fans?
[ His thumbnail scraped against one of the scars on his hand, like he was trying to split him open. Even in this semblance of comfort, there were still the sharp edges, awkward and uncomfortable. ]
I just enjoy watching a professional work, is that so wrong?
no subject
How odd. To know that there is someone else out there like him. Monsters circling one another and finding... what? Solace? It isn't comfort.
Understanding, perhaps. They'd promised it, between blood and bites, in that darkened hallway half a world away. Was that not what this was? Understanding? Was it β or could it β be more than that? ]
Fans? No, a grouchy old man like you has fans?
[ His thumbnail scraped against one of the scars on his hand, like he was trying to split him open. Even in this semblance of comfort, there were still the sharp edges, awkward and uncomfortable. ]
I just enjoy watching a professional work, is that so wrong?