[He sounds very calm--robotic, almost. It's not much of a deviation from his normal way of talking, even if it's... more confused, perhaps? Less distinct?]
[He had to be brought home? That doesn't sound much like okay. Neil and Todd are friends, good that that found him first. Who would hurt him and then just leave him like that?]
Stay there. I'll come over.
[There's a scramble to get her shoes on and be extra quick about it.]
[And she's off. Why oh why isn't there a faster way then running? ...It is the most direct way however. Shilo doesn't bother to catch her breath at the door. She just knocks when she arrives gulping big breaths so she doesn't drop. Her heart is beating hard in her chest, the heavy consistency her ribcage has taken on doesn't help too much.]
[With Neil and Todd gone (they hadn't been eager to go) and no one to maintain a conversation with, Justin, for the first time that evening, is alone with himself. He tries to use the time without distraction to think--to remember. Something happened. Over a day passed without his knowledge. He died, clearly, but how? Who had done it? Why?
But the thoughts were slow to come and hard to hold on to. His usually sharp mind was dull, distant... it was as if the thoughts belonged to someone else. His body, clad in Tsurugi's ill-fitting clothes and wrapped in a blanket, doesn't feel like his own. He's drifting somewhere, observing himself and his thoughts from the perspective of a disinterested third party. He wonders idly if it's possible to drift away entirely...
Shilo's knock brings him back to some state of awareness. Neith runs to the door.]
[Like so many times before, Shilo enters careful not to allow enough room for Neith to pass. She didn't bring her bag. ...or much of a coat. The point is that she's here. Here for him. Usually they're together, where was she when ...whenever whatever happened?
She crosses the room, not sparing attention to Neith for now. (The poor thing, Shilo will make it up to her.)]
[Neith meows demandingly at Shilo. All of the comings and goings tonight and no one had bothered to feed her--a state of affairs that she doesn't approve of.
Justin looks up at Shilo from his blanket cocoon. There's something off about her... something missing. Her bag? Something. Had she missed him? Had she wondered where he was, or was he easy to misplace? It wasn't like home, though. Someone would have noticed he was gone eventually in the City. Not so much at home.
But Shilo is there, and it's good to see her. Almost too good--too normal. There are things he wants to say to her (or he thinks there are... none of them are coming to mind.]
[Reasoning with her whiskered friend can wait. Shilo comes closer, she sits very gently to not disturb him too much physically. He looks like he's sick, all wrapped up and quiet. She looks down and tries to shake thinking of him coming together from all the bits and pieces.
She had been wondering where he went. Most times when that happens, he's at work. It was only that day that she started to worry.]
Can I get you anything?
[Who would do anything to him like this? He's a good person. He's changed. He's not a monster! Whatever happened, that's the real work of a monstrous person.]
[The cat gives Shilo a Look and situates herself by the door, ready to accost anyone else who might come in.
With Shilo there, Justin's thoughts slow down. While a blank mind is preferable to a chaotic, unorganized jumble of thoughts, it's unusual. Surreal. Justin feels as though he--the analytic, thinking, reasoning part of him that usually runs the show--isn't fully in himself. He's observing himself just as he's observing Shilo, detached from emotion, separated from himself by a wall that seems to be holding as many things together as it's keeping apart.]
[All night if she has to. As it looks like she might have to. Where are his hands? She can't hold them when he's all bundled up.]
Are you cold?
[Usually, Justin seems so impervious to cold. Because...well, because. Again, she has to ask who would do this? Still there's no answer. And each time it's a hot coal sitting at the bottom of the the hole that's burrowed in her ribcage.
She shakes her head, trying to shake off her own growing emotions. Shilo didn't even think much on crying until seeing him face to face.]
Talk. Please.
[Because she doesn't know where to start or what to say other then why.]
[That's a relief, as least. It's selfish to want her there, but he does.]
No, not-- [Not cold. Not cold in a normal way--temperature doesn't matter any more now than it did. He looks at her as if the word he's looking for will be there. Shilo's expression, however, is quite enough to derail any tenuous thoughts that might have been taking root. Angry? No... sadder. Helplessness?
She's going to cry. The wall between him and himself is unstable; if she cries, he'll start, too. Talk. What is there to say? Justin opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. His eyes are stinging. He'll cry if he starts talking. Worse yet, he can't tell what words would come out.
He frees an arm from the blanket, a clear invitation for Shilo to join him in his cocoon. Justin doesn't look like himself in Tsurguri's flannel pajama pants and baggy shirt. His arms are thin and scarred from events that happened long before the first death. Were he a little more himself, he would be self-conscious.]
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No. Neil and Todd brought me home.
[He sounds very calm--robotic, almost. It's not much of a deviation from his normal way of talking, even if it's... more confused, perhaps? Less distinct?]
...Are you at home?
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[He had to be brought home? That doesn't sound much like okay. Neil and Todd are friends, good that that found him first. Who would hurt him and then just leave him like that?]
Stay there. I'll come over.
[There's a scramble to get her shoes on and be extra quick about it.]
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But the thoughts were slow to come and hard to hold on to. His usually sharp mind was dull, distant... it was as if the thoughts belonged to someone else. His body, clad in Tsurugi's ill-fitting clothes and wrapped in a blanket, doesn't feel like his own. He's drifting somewhere, observing himself and his thoughts from the perspective of a disinterested third party. He wonders idly if it's possible to drift away entirely...
Shilo's knock brings him back to some state of awareness. Neith runs to the door.]
Come in.
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She crosses the room, not sparing attention to Neith for now. (The poor thing, Shilo will make it up to her.)]
Justin.
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Justin looks up at Shilo from his blanket cocoon. There's something off about her... something missing. Her bag? Something. Had she missed him? Had she wondered where he was, or was he easy to misplace? It wasn't like home, though. Someone would have noticed he was gone eventually in the City. Not so much at home.
But Shilo is there, and it's good to see her. Almost too good--too normal. There are things he wants to say to her (or he thinks there are... none of them are coming to mind.]
Shilo.
[That wasn't one of them.]
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[Reasoning with her whiskered friend can wait. Shilo comes closer, she sits very gently to not disturb him too much physically. He looks like he's sick, all wrapped up and quiet. She looks down and tries to shake thinking of him coming together from all the bits and pieces.
She had been wondering where he went. Most times when that happens, he's at work. It was only that day that she started to worry.]
Can I get you anything?
[Who would do anything to him like this? He's a good person. He's changed. He's not a monster! Whatever happened, that's the real work of a monstrous person.]
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With Shilo there, Justin's thoughts slow down. While a blank mind is preferable to a chaotic, unorganized jumble of thoughts, it's unusual. Surreal. Justin feels as though he--the analytic, thinking, reasoning part of him that usually runs the show--isn't fully in himself. He's observing himself just as he's observing Shilo, detached from emotion, separated from himself by a wall that seems to be holding as many things together as it's keeping apart.]
No. [He shifts closer to her.]
Are you staying for a while?
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[All night if she has to. As it looks like she might have to. Where are his hands? She can't hold them when he's all bundled up.]
Are you cold?
[Usually, Justin seems so impervious to cold. Because...well, because. Again, she has to ask who would do this? Still there's no answer. And each time it's a hot coal sitting at the bottom of the the hole that's burrowed in her ribcage.
She shakes her head, trying to shake off her own growing emotions. Shilo didn't even think much on crying until seeing him face to face.]
Talk. Please.
[Because she doesn't know where to start or what to say other then why.]
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No, not-- [Not cold. Not cold in a normal way--temperature doesn't matter any more now than it did. He looks at her as if the word he's looking for will be there. Shilo's expression, however, is quite enough to derail any tenuous thoughts that might have been taking root. Angry? No... sadder. Helplessness?
She's going to cry. The wall between him and himself is unstable; if she cries, he'll start, too. Talk. What is there to say? Justin opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. His eyes are stinging. He'll cry if he starts talking. Worse yet, he can't tell what words would come out.
He frees an arm from the blanket, a clear invitation for Shilo to join him in his cocoon. Justin doesn't look like himself in Tsurguri's flannel pajama pants and baggy shirt. His arms are thin and scarred from events that happened long before the first death. Were he a little more himself, he would be self-conscious.]
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