02 // a twofer: video and action!
[There's an old-ish man in an impeccable dress suit in the entrance hall. Cohen's cleaned up for the occasion; maybe he's trying to recapture his old surface self. White gloves hide the scars on his hands, and - okay, so he's wearing stage makeup again, but it's at least freshly applied and not stark white.
He pushes open the front door, slowly, with a look on his face that's half anticipation, half tension. It's as though he half-expects there to be nothing at all beyond it. When he sees the sunlight, he begins to hurry out - then stops dead, only a few paces from the door - then just stares into the sky with squinting eyes and an expression of deepest relief.
The communicator is tucked into his breast pocket like a gentleman's handkerchief - so if you see a quivering picture of the sky, and the occasional glimpse of a wrinkled face at a dramatic angle, you're watching his feed.]
He pushes open the front door, slowly, with a look on his face that's half anticipation, half tension. It's as though he half-expects there to be nothing at all beyond it. When he sees the sunlight, he begins to hurry out - then stops dead, only a few paces from the door - then just stares into the sky with squinting eyes and an expression of deepest relief.
The communicator is tucked into his breast pocket like a gentleman's handkerchief - so if you see a quivering picture of the sky, and the occasional glimpse of a wrinkled face at a dramatic angle, you're watching his feed.]