(no subject)
He nearly sleeps seven hours before his alarm goes off and he forces himself out of bed. He's not used to clean white walls. He's rather gotten accustomed to peace, and gray, and silence, and the sifting of the wind through ashes.
He spends a while in his room, reading, studying. He takes in the puppies, delivers Wells' dogs to Wells and takes care of other small details (mostly centering around Ryan doesn't have his puppy yet; what do I do with a puppy, SUZI HELP.) He reorients himself.
But he can't say he's settled; everything smells wrong here, stale, like carpeting and paint. He wants to walk.
He heads down to the bar. The agent who might be trouble is there, so Deitmar stays behind him and looks for a quiet place to sit out of his line of sight. The man gets up and walks through the door as Deitmar settles peaceably into a booth with a book. He could just be going back to make sure the phone's on the hook, but Deitmar rather suspects he's out on business, already distracted by. . . whatever terribly important things he has to do on his world.
So he goes for a walk. He sticks to the edge of the forest until he's on the path to the mountain, where he'll be inconspicuous; then he stretches out a bit.
He can feel how weak his body still is. He's pushing it, going further than he should; the wind is carrying a thousand tastes, there's noise to all sides, but he has to get used to it.
He spends a while in his room, reading, studying. He takes in the puppies, delivers Wells' dogs to Wells and takes care of other small details (mostly centering around Ryan doesn't have his puppy yet; what do I do with a puppy, SUZI HELP.) He reorients himself.
But he can't say he's settled; everything smells wrong here, stale, like carpeting and paint. He wants to walk.
He heads down to the bar. The agent who might be trouble is there, so Deitmar stays behind him and looks for a quiet place to sit out of his line of sight. The man gets up and walks through the door as Deitmar settles peaceably into a booth with a book. He could just be going back to make sure the phone's on the hook, but Deitmar rather suspects he's out on business, already distracted by. . . whatever terribly important things he has to do on his world.
So he goes for a walk. He sticks to the edge of the forest until he's on the path to the mountain, where he'll be inconspicuous; then he stretches out a bit.
He can feel how weak his body still is. He's pushing it, going further than he should; the wind is carrying a thousand tastes, there's noise to all sides, but he has to get used to it.