If asked, Reed Chandler would see absolutely nothing wrong with including oneself in one's own fictional universe.
This is, very possibly, all one really needs to know about Reed.
He is, currently, sipping a beer, watching the schmuck who just came in through the Door and making bets with himself as to how long it will take for the guy to realize where he is.
That's what happens when you're so immersed in your manuscript. This is supposed to be the big Come Back after he'd taken a hiatus from his Supernatural series a while back.
It isn't until he literally bumps into the table in front of him that he stops to put his set of papers down.
Reed smiles. It's friendly, charming, and says absolutely nothing about what might (or might not) be going through his head. It will serve him well in the future, during his years in politics.
"This is Milliways," he says. "You're not dreaming or hallucinating. You're at the end of the universe."
He points helpfully at the Window. He knows it tends to unsettle people, but he doesn't see why. It doesn't bother him any. It's not like it's going to get inside, for heaven's sake.
"Oh, you're not in your house anymore," he says airily. "I don't really know where we are. No one does." He looks - and is - wholly unconcerned about this.
"Used to it," Reed says brightly. "Oh, time is all funny here, too. Do you know, I met my brother here, from, god, it had to be fifty years from now, he was so old. Wheelchair and everything."
He isn't deliberately choosing information Chuck probably can't cope with with that moment . . . or is he?
Frankly, with Reed sometimes, it can be hard to tell the difference between genuine maliciousness and simple obliviousness.
(Yeah, but it's going to be while he's having sex. If you asked him right now - or at any point in his life, for that matter - he'd consider it a worthwhile trade-off.)
"Of course they can!" This time, he's definitely putting the screws to Chuck just a bit, in the form of cheery assurance. People like Reed respond to jitteriness like that. "I haven't met any, well, not that I know of, but I guess I could have, everyone here is from the future anyway."
(Well, it certainly is one hell of a way to go, that's for sure.)
Chuck ... visibly pales.
Reed must be enjoying this greatly.
He has to purposefully grip his pages to keep them from leaving his hands again. "Okay," he says, taking a breath. "Okay, that's fine. Y'know, I probably should have expected something like this."
By the sounds of it, it would probably be more accurate to assume the opposite.
This is, very possibly, all one really needs to know about Reed.
He is, currently, sipping a beer, watching the schmuck who just came in through the Door and making bets with himself as to how long it will take for the guy to realize where he is.
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That's what happens when you're so immersed in your manuscript. This is supposed to be the big Come Back after he'd taken a hiatus from his Supernatural series a while back.
It isn't until he literally bumps into the table in front of him that he stops to put his set of papers down.
Cue the classic 'Panicked' look.
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Funny how things just seem to work themselves out, isn't it?
"Hello," he calls over brightly. "You're in Milliways."
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Also, Chuck is a pretty jittery sort. So this could be fun for Reed.
Not so much fun for Chuck, though.
"... what?" He turns around to face the young man. "What'd you say?"
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"This is Milliways," he says. "You're not dreaming or hallucinating. You're at the end of the universe."
He points helpfully at the Window. He knows it tends to unsettle people, but he doesn't see why. It doesn't bother him any. It's not like it's going to get inside, for heaven's sake.
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Chuck turns towards the window as directed.
And stares.
The manuscript slips from his hands, fluttering about in a mess of papers.
As soon as he's realized this, he bends down to quickly scrape them off the floor. "I've seen a lotta weird shit, but this -"
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"Oh, you're not in your house anymore," he says airily. "I don't really know where we are. No one does." He looks - and is - wholly unconcerned about this.
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He straightens, not expecting any help or anything.
"Not knowing where you are," he mumbles. "End of the universe. This is insane."
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He isn't deliberately choosing information Chuck probably can't cope with with that moment . . . or is he?
Frankly, with Reed sometimes, it can be hard to tell the difference between genuine maliciousness and simple obliviousness.
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His attention is piqued though.
"Is it possible to ... meet a past or future version of yourself?"
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"Don't see why not," he says. "If I can meet Grahame that old, I don't see why I can't meet myself at that age."
(There is the fact that he won't survive to that age, but of course he doesn't know that.)
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"Shit. Really?"
He looks vaguely jitterier, hearing that. He did dream himself into one of his book plots, after all.
"And characters? Can fictional characters come alive? There's gotta be some guidelines."
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"Of course they can!" This time, he's definitely putting the screws to Chuck just a bit, in the form of cheery assurance. People like Reed respond to jitteriness like that. "I haven't met any, well, not that I know of, but I guess I could have, everyone here is from the future anyway."
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Chuck ... visibly pales.
Reed must be enjoying this greatly.
He has to purposefully grip his pages to keep them from leaving his hands again. "Okay," he says, taking a breath. "Okay, that's fine. Y'know, I probably should have expected something like this."
By the sounds of it, it would probably be more accurate to assume the opposite.
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He lifts his beer glass to sip as Chuck speaks, then gives him a wide-eyed look of innocent concern over the rim.
"Is that going to be a problem?" he asks, lowering the glass. He sounds innocently concerned, too. It's a gift.
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"Uh - no. Of course not."
He sounds so sure of himself. (By which we mean, not really at all.)
"I just - I do a lot of things to my characters that they might not exactly ... thank me for."
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