(no subject)
[A map is spread out over a table. There's little knives slid into some places of the table, through points on the map of what looks like Sweden. Hastily written notes with color coded markings, litter the margins like multi-colored confetti.
Standing over it, with one hand on the surface is Allen. He's taller and older, with his pale hair in a similar style to his younger counterparts. He weaves a pen through his fingers as he stares at the map.]
No. He would place that here,
[He's tense and coiled as tightly as a wire. Who knows how many coffee pots he's gone through to lay out the marks and knives in their positions.]
It doesn't make sense for it to be there.
Standing over it, with one hand on the surface is Allen. He's taller and older, with his pale hair in a similar style to his younger counterparts. He weaves a pen through his fingers as he stares at the map.]
No. He would place that here,
[He's tense and coiled as tightly as a wire. Who knows how many coffee pots he's gone through to lay out the marks and knives in their positions.]
It doesn't make sense for it to be there.