(no subject)
[OOM: "Science is a differential equation. Religion is a boundary condition."
--Alan Turing]
When Nathan Stark walks in, he looks like hell. His tie is missing; his white shirt is open at the collar, his jacket is mussed, and there are smudges of dirt and oil on his pants-leg. His eyes are red at the corners, his shoulders are slumped in something near defeat, and there are lines of strain drawn in his face.
He knows how he looks, and he couldn't give a damn about it right now if he tried.
He doesn't try. Instead, Stark crosses straight to the bar and asks for a single-malt scotch.
Then another.
--Alan Turing]
When Nathan Stark walks in, he looks like hell. His tie is missing; his white shirt is open at the collar, his jacket is mussed, and there are smudges of dirt and oil on his pants-leg. His eyes are red at the corners, his shoulders are slumped in something near defeat, and there are lines of strain drawn in his face.
He knows how he looks, and he couldn't give a damn about it right now if he tried.
He doesn't try. Instead, Stark crosses straight to the bar and asks for a single-malt scotch.
Then another.