[ooc; APP]
PLAYER
» Journal: xelias
» Birthdate/Age: 2/18/1987; 23
» Characters Played: Rude (FFVII), Albedo (Xenosaga), Heather (Silent Hill 3)
CHARACTER
» Name: Robert Michael Fischer (Jr., sayeth the credits, which makes no sense considering his father's name is... er, different. but hey, they said it, not me.)
» Fandom: Inception
» Reference: Obviously the best reference available is the film itself, but I have no reliable way of finding scenes from it right now... So all I can do is assemble a hodgepodge of different sources that can hopefully create a comprehensive enough picture of who he is. :'|
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inception_%28film%29 <-- General film wiki entry
http://inception.wikia.com/wiki/Robert_Fischer <-- Robert's wikia entry
http://www.filmschoolrejects.com/interviews/interview-sharing-inception-theories-with-cillian-murphy.php
http://www.collider.com/2010/07/19/inception-cillian-murphy-interview-batman-3-at-swim-two-birds/ <-- Interviews/commentary on Robert's character from Cillian Murphy
» Canon Point: Third-level dream, after being accosted by Mal.
» Gender: Male
» Age: 37 (assuming that the film takes place in 2010; his passport reads 17 September 1973.)
» Orientation: Unknown, possibly leaning heterosexual. Although the "lovely lady" (aka Eames) apparently managed to distract him/his mind enough for the team to infiltrate, he really doesn't appear terribly interested in her otherwise--something that "she" is quick to comment on. Of course, it's also true that Robert is very distracted by other issues throughout the film, so romance and/or sex are not exactly at the forefront of his thoughts. He does sort of accept the napkin that the blonde writes her number on, but apparently he doesn't actually look at it carefully until Cobb points out that she wrote down a number with only six digits and stole his wallet. So his interest in her is ambiguous at best.
» Personality: It's probably a no-brainer that this is full of Inception spoilers, but I'm stating it anyway in case, idk, someone hasn't seen it. <3
The most essential, priority-one thing I need to get on the table right off the bat is this: throughout the entirety of the film, Robert Fischer is in a marked state of crisis. His father, Maurice Fischer, a man with whom he had an incredibly tumultuous relationship, is dying, so obviously from the beginning we're witnessing him under exceptional circumstances. How he acts when he's not under such intense emotional strain could thus be somewhat different, but it stands to reason that he'll always be something of the same old Robert that we get to know over the course of the story. After all, his father has just died--this will understandably result in plenty of grief for him to work through over the months following the events of the movie (as well as his arrival in Atia).
Also significantly, this Robert will be sent to Atia before the inception is complete, meaning that he's coming in still carrying his full cadre of issues and insecurities which aren't yet ameliorated by the reassurance of his father's love. And there are a lot of them. Cillian Murphy interprets his character as being "riddled with all sorts of insecurities" in spite of the fact that he's about to become one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the world. He goes as far as describing him as "stunted emotionally" and, at 37 years old, "still a kid looking for attention from his dad."
Various comments made throughout the story paint a picture of a relationship predicated on Robert's constant attempts (and failures) to pierce through Maurice's total unavailability and lack of acceptance. Cillian Murphy comments that Robert has lived his whole life in Maurice's shadow, always under immense pressure to live up to his standards and receiving very little acknowledgment or praise for his efforts. It seems that fights between them were a relatively common occurrence, if the newspaper clippings we're shown are any indication: one of the headlines notes an occasion when the Fischers allegedly "caused a scene" in the middle of a popular Sydney restaurant. In the guise of Peter Browning, Robert's godfather, Eames remarks that Maurice was always "bad with emotion"--an observation with which Robert readily agrees. With obvious pain and resentment, he tells his "Uncle Peter" that all his father had to tell him after his mother died (when he was only eleven years old, at that) was "there's really nothing to be said." When his projection of Browning tells him that the contents of Maurice's safe would challenge him to create a better empire while simultaneously declaring that he was undeserving of his father's accomplishments, he is momentarily overcome with emotion: he restlessly turns his back to the group and the camera and raises a hand to his face like he's swallowing tears before turning around to continue the conversation. Since the Browning of his mind is the one saying it, this actually isn't a revelation to him at all--he really does believe Maurice felt that way about him, and now someone's saying it out loud. And, until the very end of the film when the inception "reveals" to him that his father loved and believed in him after all, Robert goes on his way firmly convinced that Maurice's dying words were that he was disappointed in him.
Although Browning has historically assumed the role of father figure in his life--something that he desperately needed--Robert has already come to believe that Browning has betrayed him to protect his own interests at this point in the film, which only isolates him further. Apparently there could be some basis for this assumption in reality, given Eames's comment (I think it was Eames who said it) that the team is exposing Robert to Browning's true character and the glimpse of a news article about how Browning is "struggling to find his place" within Fischer Morrow. It's also apparent that Browning is very eager to talk to Robert about assuming power of attorney, but Robert has been deflecting the issue. But whatever the facts are, Robert would not have generated an untrustworthy projection of Browning if he didn't already doubt his motives somewhat. He's hurt and somewhat incredulous when projection!Browning tells him that he was the mastermind behind the kidnapping, but we know he unconsciously fully believes Browning's explanation that Fischer Morrow is his whole life and he can't let Robert dismantle it.
So let's just recap and take stock of his family situation here: according to Robert, every parental figure he's had has a) died and left him at a traumatically young age, b) been a constant source of damage to his self-esteem, or c) betrayed him for selfish personal gain. It's really no wonder if he's such a fundamentally insecure person deep down.
Still, he does a good job of hiding it. While he maintains a rather reticent and unapproachable demeanor around people he doesn't know (one gets the impression from the way he reacts to Cobb that the reputation his name carries follows him everywhere, especially now that his father is in such poor health), he is far from timid. Actually, the massive level of privilege he's been surrounded with since childhood has, in Cillian Murphy's words, spoiled him pretty thoroughly. This shows itself in the arch, expectant attitude he initially adopts when first meeting Cobb--both times--as though his time is a precious commodity that shouldn't be wasted on entertaining random people's platitudes and queries. The instant Eames hops into the taxi with him, his response is a sharp "what are you doing?" When Eames explains that he thought it was free, he petulantly replies "well, it's not!" and tries to leave. Yes, Fischer would rather get out and stand in the rain than share a cab with a stranger, and he definitely shows something of a temper when his nerves are frayed (see also: the way he shoves poor Saito after they fall down the mountain together). His reaction to being kidnapped is surprisingly deadpan; where most people would probably express a certain amount of fear, Robert's assumption that they want money has him treating the situation like it's just a huge inconvenience, and he sounds downright flippant when he informs the team that his wallet is worth over $500 (in two different dreams) and that he's insured for ten million in ransom money. He's composed, icy, as his kidnappers threaten him--until they threaten Uncle Peter instead, at which point he kind of falls to pieces (we are beginning to see how desperately important his close relationships are to him at this point). Along with his militarized subconscious, which protects him against extraction, we can see that he's been raised to anticipate situations like his kidnapping. It would not be at all surprising if that mentality has endowed him with a certain measure of distrust toward the world at large.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to trust others. It may be because he believes that "Mister Charles" is a part of his own mind, or possibly because he finally does become overwhelmed and frightened when he realizes he's in a dream, but he chooses to trust Cobb with a readiness that verges on naive (which is, of course, exploited when Cobb talks him into extracting "Browning's" secrets during the level two dream--effectively volunteering to help break into his own mind, as the film observes for us). Regardless of the reason, he places his full confidence in Cobb virtually from the moment they meet in the second level, going as far as accepting his real subconscious security as the enemy. Interestingly, it was decided that Robert would carry a gun in the third level as a way of signifying that he is now united with the team against what he believes to be Browning and "feels like he’s been accepted" as one of them (which is the cutest goddamn thing on the planet, but I digress).
A final note about Saito, because it warrants its own discussion. At no time does Robert appear to recognize Saito as the head of his company's chief competitor--in neither face nor name--which seems kind of odd when you think about it. No canon explanation is given, but there are multiple possibilities: it could be that Robert honestly doesn't know the specifics of who's leading Proclus Global (this strikes me as somewhat unrealistic), could be that there's a mental disconnect between dreams and reality, so he doesn't properly appreciate who Saito is in the dream but could upon waking (somewhat more likely), or some variation between the two. I would imagine that his competitor's presence in a hostile dream could be quite alarming for him if he did recognize Saito, not to mention destabilizing to his trust in the team, so I can only surmise that his dreaming mind accepted Saito at face value in any event.
» Appearance: PB is Cillian Murphy for obvious reasons. \o/ But putting that aside, let's take a look at the man. We have here a person who has been described (by Murphy, at that) as extremely fastidious about his appearance, to the point of getting his hair cut "every three weeks on the same day by the same barber who comes to his set of suites in some hotel somewhere." Everything about him is precise and perfectly put together, a consequence of having to seem perfect in the public eye thanks to his position in the world. There is a definite theme of covering up insecurity behind a pretty facade through the whole of his physical being: the first thing one notices about him is how handsome he is (but always carrying some degree of tension in his face, even when relaxing), or maybe how beautifully his fabulously expensive suits fit (but his movements in it are stilted and restricted and slightly awkward). He's not exceptionally tall at 5'9'', but it's really only noticeable while he's standing next to taller people (like Saito, for example, who is about 6'1'').
» Suitability: N/A.
SAMPLES
» "amatomnes" Entry:
[ The feed opens to static and fumbling as the male voice on the other end whispers unintelligible phrases of puzzlement as he obviously attempts to familiarize himself with the device. When he's confident it's on, a short and careful silence ensues for about six seconds--a somewhat transparent bid to intercept any communication that might be coming his way.
Nothing.
Under his breath, a somewhat exasperated 'goddammit,' followed by a furtive, vaguely conspiratorial murmur: ]
Mr. Charles.
Do you hear me?
If you can...
» "amatomneslogs" Entry:
Robert can't remember how he got here. He remembers plenty before that, though, clear as glass--the dream hospital, more military than medical, instruments and x-rays shining on their trays in his periphery like a twisted caricature of his freshest sadness as he stumbled toward Uncle Peter's truth.
Toward Maurice's truth.
Dad's truth.
He remembers turning around to her gauzy 'hello' (anyone would've done that, he tells himself, but he can't shake the sour bite of failure when he thinks of it). How she raised her arm in one unbroken motion and gave him just enough time to look into her miserable, beautiful eyes before the shot shredded a burning path through his jacket and perception. He remembers how much it hurt, and how quickly it was over.
He remembers thinking that his was the less painful death.
But after that, there's just a gaping haze stretching fully from the frozen floor to the mellow cradle of these sheets, and no amount of focus will summon the missing pieces to bridge that gap. This bed is the furthest thing from an avalanche, this--what, this tie? collar?--smooth and cool around his neck, and he can't really say he's all that bothered to get up with his (unmaimed?) skin still humming with some happy memory that it refuses to share with its owner. It feels like... Well, if he's being honest with himself, it feels a lot like afterglow, but there's absolutely no reason to think that something like that could've happened just after--
Fear punches him out of complacency and he clambers upright, because what if this is what Mister Charles told him playing out? He told him not to shoot himself, told him not to die, because if he did he could wind up here, with his mind floating aimlessly in downy dreamspace. Is this what that is? Robert imagines himself seated vegetative in the distant recollection of a van and starts to rethink his thought that his death wasn't so terrible. It's terrible on a conceptual level: Robert Fischer, heir to Maurice Fischer's insurmountable empire, braindead in the back of a van with a bag over his head. A hot flush of anxiety rips up his neck and he decides to get out of bed and see what's going on.
Whoever the dream belongs to (maybe the girl?), it's a substantial improvement. This place is more opulent, more elaborate than any suite in the London West Hollywood could ever hope to be, dramatic architecture polished to a mirrorlike newness that pleases him even if he's more apprehensive about men with guns bursting in at any moment. A pass by the mirror identifies the thing around his neck as one of his nicest ties if it had been mutilated into a simple strip of fabric; he can't figure out how or why it's there, but it is kind of a shame that he's going to have to cut through it to get it off the next time he has the chance. He's also reminded of how very exposed he is, suit fitted tidily inside a bag on the door instead of around his body, and that's... weird, disturbing, but not necessarily dangerous. Dreamers project their own elements onto people, isn't that how it was explained to him? (...the girl?)
Regardless, as he's readjusting one of his cufflinks he's relieved to notice the... he doesn't know, it's not any mobile phone he's seen before, but it's close enough. Less conspicuous than a radio, anyway, and less awkward, too. It's the continuing self-reassurance that Mister Charles and his team are soon to catch up with him that keeps him (relatively) calm. But after a couple hours pass in which he does nothing but wait, watching the idyllic town bustle harmlessly outside in the midday heat, he begins to lose patience and looks slowly to the device sleeping on the table.
» Journal: xelias
» Birthdate/Age: 2/18/1987; 23
» Characters Played: Rude (FFVII), Albedo (Xenosaga), Heather (Silent Hill 3)
CHARACTER
» Name: Robert Michael Fischer (Jr., sayeth the credits, which makes no sense considering his father's name is... er, different. but hey, they said it, not me.)
» Fandom: Inception
» Reference: Obviously the best reference available is the film itself, but I have no reliable way of finding scenes from it right now... So all I can do is assemble a hodgepodge of different sources that can hopefully create a comprehensive enough picture of who he is. :'|
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inception_%28film%29 <-- General film wiki entry
http://inception.wikia.com/wiki/Robert_Fischer <-- Robert's wikia entry
http://www.filmschoolrejects.com/interviews/interview-sharing-inception-theories-with-cillian-murphy.php
http://www.collider.com/2010/07/19/inception-cillian-murphy-interview-batman-3-at-swim-two-birds/ <-- Interviews/commentary on Robert's character from Cillian Murphy
» Canon Point: Third-level dream, after being accosted by Mal.
» Gender: Male
» Age: 37 (assuming that the film takes place in 2010; his passport reads 17 September 1973.)
» Orientation: Unknown, possibly leaning heterosexual. Although the "lovely lady" (aka Eames) apparently managed to distract him/his mind enough for the team to infiltrate, he really doesn't appear terribly interested in her otherwise--something that "she" is quick to comment on. Of course, it's also true that Robert is very distracted by other issues throughout the film, so romance and/or sex are not exactly at the forefront of his thoughts. He does sort of accept the napkin that the blonde writes her number on, but apparently he doesn't actually look at it carefully until Cobb points out that she wrote down a number with only six digits and stole his wallet. So his interest in her is ambiguous at best.
» Personality: It's probably a no-brainer that this is full of Inception spoilers, but I'm stating it anyway in case, idk, someone hasn't seen it. <3
The most essential, priority-one thing I need to get on the table right off the bat is this: throughout the entirety of the film, Robert Fischer is in a marked state of crisis. His father, Maurice Fischer, a man with whom he had an incredibly tumultuous relationship, is dying, so obviously from the beginning we're witnessing him under exceptional circumstances. How he acts when he's not under such intense emotional strain could thus be somewhat different, but it stands to reason that he'll always be something of the same old Robert that we get to know over the course of the story. After all, his father has just died--this will understandably result in plenty of grief for him to work through over the months following the events of the movie (as well as his arrival in Atia).
Also significantly, this Robert will be sent to Atia before the inception is complete, meaning that he's coming in still carrying his full cadre of issues and insecurities which aren't yet ameliorated by the reassurance of his father's love. And there are a lot of them. Cillian Murphy interprets his character as being "riddled with all sorts of insecurities" in spite of the fact that he's about to become one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the world. He goes as far as describing him as "stunted emotionally" and, at 37 years old, "still a kid looking for attention from his dad."
Various comments made throughout the story paint a picture of a relationship predicated on Robert's constant attempts (and failures) to pierce through Maurice's total unavailability and lack of acceptance. Cillian Murphy comments that Robert has lived his whole life in Maurice's shadow, always under immense pressure to live up to his standards and receiving very little acknowledgment or praise for his efforts. It seems that fights between them were a relatively common occurrence, if the newspaper clippings we're shown are any indication: one of the headlines notes an occasion when the Fischers allegedly "caused a scene" in the middle of a popular Sydney restaurant. In the guise of Peter Browning, Robert's godfather, Eames remarks that Maurice was always "bad with emotion"--an observation with which Robert readily agrees. With obvious pain and resentment, he tells his "Uncle Peter" that all his father had to tell him after his mother died (when he was only eleven years old, at that) was "there's really nothing to be said." When his projection of Browning tells him that the contents of Maurice's safe would challenge him to create a better empire while simultaneously declaring that he was undeserving of his father's accomplishments, he is momentarily overcome with emotion: he restlessly turns his back to the group and the camera and raises a hand to his face like he's swallowing tears before turning around to continue the conversation. Since the Browning of his mind is the one saying it, this actually isn't a revelation to him at all--he really does believe Maurice felt that way about him, and now someone's saying it out loud. And, until the very end of the film when the inception "reveals" to him that his father loved and believed in him after all, Robert goes on his way firmly convinced that Maurice's dying words were that he was disappointed in him.
Although Browning has historically assumed the role of father figure in his life--something that he desperately needed--Robert has already come to believe that Browning has betrayed him to protect his own interests at this point in the film, which only isolates him further. Apparently there could be some basis for this assumption in reality, given Eames's comment (I think it was Eames who said it) that the team is exposing Robert to Browning's true character and the glimpse of a news article about how Browning is "struggling to find his place" within Fischer Morrow. It's also apparent that Browning is very eager to talk to Robert about assuming power of attorney, but Robert has been deflecting the issue. But whatever the facts are, Robert would not have generated an untrustworthy projection of Browning if he didn't already doubt his motives somewhat. He's hurt and somewhat incredulous when projection!Browning tells him that he was the mastermind behind the kidnapping, but we know he unconsciously fully believes Browning's explanation that Fischer Morrow is his whole life and he can't let Robert dismantle it.
So let's just recap and take stock of his family situation here: according to Robert, every parental figure he's had has a) died and left him at a traumatically young age, b) been a constant source of damage to his self-esteem, or c) betrayed him for selfish personal gain. It's really no wonder if he's such a fundamentally insecure person deep down.
Still, he does a good job of hiding it. While he maintains a rather reticent and unapproachable demeanor around people he doesn't know (one gets the impression from the way he reacts to Cobb that the reputation his name carries follows him everywhere, especially now that his father is in such poor health), he is far from timid. Actually, the massive level of privilege he's been surrounded with since childhood has, in Cillian Murphy's words, spoiled him pretty thoroughly. This shows itself in the arch, expectant attitude he initially adopts when first meeting Cobb--both times--as though his time is a precious commodity that shouldn't be wasted on entertaining random people's platitudes and queries. The instant Eames hops into the taxi with him, his response is a sharp "what are you doing?" When Eames explains that he thought it was free, he petulantly replies "well, it's not!" and tries to leave. Yes, Fischer would rather get out and stand in the rain than share a cab with a stranger, and he definitely shows something of a temper when his nerves are frayed (see also: the way he shoves poor Saito after they fall down the mountain together). His reaction to being kidnapped is surprisingly deadpan; where most people would probably express a certain amount of fear, Robert's assumption that they want money has him treating the situation like it's just a huge inconvenience, and he sounds downright flippant when he informs the team that his wallet is worth over $500 (in two different dreams) and that he's insured for ten million in ransom money. He's composed, icy, as his kidnappers threaten him--until they threaten Uncle Peter instead, at which point he kind of falls to pieces (we are beginning to see how desperately important his close relationships are to him at this point). Along with his militarized subconscious, which protects him against extraction, we can see that he's been raised to anticipate situations like his kidnapping. It would not be at all surprising if that mentality has endowed him with a certain measure of distrust toward the world at large.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to trust others. It may be because he believes that "Mister Charles" is a part of his own mind, or possibly because he finally does become overwhelmed and frightened when he realizes he's in a dream, but he chooses to trust Cobb with a readiness that verges on naive (which is, of course, exploited when Cobb talks him into extracting "Browning's" secrets during the level two dream--effectively volunteering to help break into his own mind, as the film observes for us). Regardless of the reason, he places his full confidence in Cobb virtually from the moment they meet in the second level, going as far as accepting his real subconscious security as the enemy. Interestingly, it was decided that Robert would carry a gun in the third level as a way of signifying that he is now united with the team against what he believes to be Browning and "feels like he’s been accepted" as one of them (which is the cutest goddamn thing on the planet, but I digress).
A final note about Saito, because it warrants its own discussion. At no time does Robert appear to recognize Saito as the head of his company's chief competitor--in neither face nor name--which seems kind of odd when you think about it. No canon explanation is given, but there are multiple possibilities: it could be that Robert honestly doesn't know the specifics of who's leading Proclus Global (this strikes me as somewhat unrealistic), could be that there's a mental disconnect between dreams and reality, so he doesn't properly appreciate who Saito is in the dream but could upon waking (somewhat more likely), or some variation between the two. I would imagine that his competitor's presence in a hostile dream could be quite alarming for him if he did recognize Saito, not to mention destabilizing to his trust in the team, so I can only surmise that his dreaming mind accepted Saito at face value in any event.
» Appearance: PB is Cillian Murphy for obvious reasons. \o/ But putting that aside, let's take a look at the man. We have here a person who has been described (by Murphy, at that) as extremely fastidious about his appearance, to the point of getting his hair cut "every three weeks on the same day by the same barber who comes to his set of suites in some hotel somewhere." Everything about him is precise and perfectly put together, a consequence of having to seem perfect in the public eye thanks to his position in the world. There is a definite theme of covering up insecurity behind a pretty facade through the whole of his physical being: the first thing one notices about him is how handsome he is (but always carrying some degree of tension in his face, even when relaxing), or maybe how beautifully his fabulously expensive suits fit (but his movements in it are stilted and restricted and slightly awkward). He's not exceptionally tall at 5'9'', but it's really only noticeable while he's standing next to taller people (like Saito, for example, who is about 6'1'').
» Suitability: N/A.
SAMPLES
» "amatomnes" Entry:
[ The feed opens to static and fumbling as the male voice on the other end whispers unintelligible phrases of puzzlement as he obviously attempts to familiarize himself with the device. When he's confident it's on, a short and careful silence ensues for about six seconds--a somewhat transparent bid to intercept any communication that might be coming his way.
Nothing.
Under his breath, a somewhat exasperated 'goddammit,' followed by a furtive, vaguely conspiratorial murmur: ]
Mr. Charles.
Do you hear me?
If you can...
» "amatomneslogs" Entry:
Robert can't remember how he got here. He remembers plenty before that, though, clear as glass--the dream hospital, more military than medical, instruments and x-rays shining on their trays in his periphery like a twisted caricature of his freshest sadness as he stumbled toward Uncle Peter's truth.
Toward Maurice's truth.
Dad's truth.
He remembers turning around to her gauzy 'hello' (anyone would've done that, he tells himself, but he can't shake the sour bite of failure when he thinks of it). How she raised her arm in one unbroken motion and gave him just enough time to look into her miserable, beautiful eyes before the shot shredded a burning path through his jacket and perception. He remembers how much it hurt, and how quickly it was over.
He remembers thinking that his was the less painful death.
But after that, there's just a gaping haze stretching fully from the frozen floor to the mellow cradle of these sheets, and no amount of focus will summon the missing pieces to bridge that gap. This bed is the furthest thing from an avalanche, this--what, this tie? collar?--smooth and cool around his neck, and he can't really say he's all that bothered to get up with his (unmaimed?) skin still humming with some happy memory that it refuses to share with its owner. It feels like... Well, if he's being honest with himself, it feels a lot like afterglow, but there's absolutely no reason to think that something like that could've happened just after--
Fear punches him out of complacency and he clambers upright, because what if this is what Mister Charles told him playing out? He told him not to shoot himself, told him not to die, because if he did he could wind up here, with his mind floating aimlessly in downy dreamspace. Is this what that is? Robert imagines himself seated vegetative in the distant recollection of a van and starts to rethink his thought that his death wasn't so terrible. It's terrible on a conceptual level: Robert Fischer, heir to Maurice Fischer's insurmountable empire, braindead in the back of a van with a bag over his head. A hot flush of anxiety rips up his neck and he decides to get out of bed and see what's going on.
Whoever the dream belongs to (maybe the girl?), it's a substantial improvement. This place is more opulent, more elaborate than any suite in the London West Hollywood could ever hope to be, dramatic architecture polished to a mirrorlike newness that pleases him even if he's more apprehensive about men with guns bursting in at any moment. A pass by the mirror identifies the thing around his neck as one of his nicest ties if it had been mutilated into a simple strip of fabric; he can't figure out how or why it's there, but it is kind of a shame that he's going to have to cut through it to get it off the next time he has the chance. He's also reminded of how very exposed he is, suit fitted tidily inside a bag on the door instead of around his body, and that's... weird, disturbing, but not necessarily dangerous. Dreamers project their own elements onto people, isn't that how it was explained to him? (...the girl?)
Regardless, as he's readjusting one of his cufflinks he's relieved to notice the... he doesn't know, it's not any mobile phone he's seen before, but it's close enough. Less conspicuous than a radio, anyway, and less awkward, too. It's the continuing self-reassurance that Mister Charles and his team are soon to catch up with him that keeps him (relatively) calm. But after a couple hours pass in which he does nothing but wait, watching the idyllic town bustle harmlessly outside in the midday heat, he begins to lose patience and looks slowly to the device sleeping on the table.