The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

[penrosestairs]

Arthur is having an unusually good day. He's both morally and professionally pleased with himself for once, a rare occurrence in a profession where a man doesn't exactly make friends and always do the right thing. This time however, he's happy with the result of his actions because everyone benefits from said result. He exits the airport, suitcase

Comments

[penrosestairs]

No. Arthur looks like the really uptight version of Harry. Additionally, he's about a decade older and it shows, but not so much physically as in his eyes. They're worn, like he's seen too much. His life hasn't exactly been painful, especially not in the way Harry's has, but he's been more than a bit morally lax. Part of the job, and sometimes it wears on him. He's seen people kill for the pettiest things and really Chicago is a bit of a vacation.

He shouldn't find the hole so amazing because it's so terrifying, but Arthur lives half his life in dreams now. For reality to be like this is almost a dream come true. If reality was more like a dream, then extractors wouldn't seek an escape so often. Arthur can't dream outside of an extraction, and that's almost painful.

"I couldn't do it before I got here..." he remarks, shaking his head. "This is new, very new..." The hole closes up completely and he steps away from it, taking his die out and rolling it between his fingers. It's almost like a nervous twitch, constant and necessary. "Is there someone that can help me figure it out?" Arthur isn't going to dwell. He's going to figure all of this out.