[ic] (solo) Doubt , oh yeah, that's fun.
"I still don't get it," Lacroix grumbled in vague frustration, snatching up a piece of the broken object from where it lay on the edge of the bed. "Piece of junk."
Well, to be fair; it wasn't the fault of the unassuming collection of metal and hinges, but he always had been a bit prone to emotional twinges.
And right about then most of that focus was on irritation; he sighed and flopped over on the bed while he turned the object over between his fingertips.
"Why don't these things come with an instruction manual," he lamented.
Rather than worrying himself into a fit of anxiety, he dropped the device on the bed and stretched, picking Sigmund up from the desk and rubbing his fingers across the reptile's snout. But unfortunately Sigmund didn't have any more insight on the matter, not very useful; that.
Lacroix tucked an arm behind his head and let the lizard sit on his chest, but his eyes kept wandering to where that boxy object Hector had left for him to decipher; it was driving him crazy. Not just because his natural tendency to be curious was irritated over being denied an answer, no; it wasn't that simple.
He had something to prove.
Up to that point it had been complicated enough even adjusting to the changes in life but that adjustment phase was apparently meant to be very short. No time to catch his breath before he was dropped right in the midst of things he was supposed to be able to do but had no idea how; being adaptive wasn't quite enough.
What was making him itch was simple; "Come on Sigmund, I'm smart, right? I can figure this out, can't I?"
Survival was easy if a person was determined, there was always a way to get by and he knew that from personal experience. But he had a chance to do something right for once without anything outside slowing him down or breaking his stride; the only hitch in the road was himself.
And that was nearly the most frustrating feeling Lacroix had ever encountered; having to be honest and admit doubt.
He was tired of failing himself; hiding had been doing that and he got it now, he really did. But changing it; that's where he was all tangled up.
"Stupid," Lacroix muttered, not even sure if he was snarking at the bothersome metal box or himself.
Well, to be fair; it wasn't the fault of the unassuming collection of metal and hinges, but he always had been a bit prone to emotional twinges.
And right about then most of that focus was on irritation; he sighed and flopped over on the bed while he turned the object over between his fingertips.
"Why don't these things come with an instruction manual," he lamented.
Rather than worrying himself into a fit of anxiety, he dropped the device on the bed and stretched, picking Sigmund up from the desk and rubbing his fingers across the reptile's snout. But unfortunately Sigmund didn't have any more insight on the matter, not very useful; that.
Lacroix tucked an arm behind his head and let the lizard sit on his chest, but his eyes kept wandering to where that boxy object Hector had left for him to decipher; it was driving him crazy. Not just because his natural tendency to be curious was irritated over being denied an answer, no; it wasn't that simple.
He had something to prove.
Up to that point it had been complicated enough even adjusting to the changes in life but that adjustment phase was apparently meant to be very short. No time to catch his breath before he was dropped right in the midst of things he was supposed to be able to do but had no idea how; being adaptive wasn't quite enough.
What was making him itch was simple; "Come on Sigmund, I'm smart, right? I can figure this out, can't I?"
Survival was easy if a person was determined, there was always a way to get by and he knew that from personal experience. But he had a chance to do something right for once without anything outside slowing him down or breaking his stride; the only hitch in the road was himself.
And that was nearly the most frustrating feeling Lacroix had ever encountered; having to be honest and admit doubt.
He was tired of failing himself; hiding had been doing that and he got it now, he really did. But changing it; that's where he was all tangled up.
"Stupid," Lacroix muttered, not even sure if he was snarking at the bothersome metal box or himself.