[There isn’t much to see in a backdrop of grays, of bricks, of overcast hues like the film on a muddy sandbox, but there’s enough, isn’t there? At least for a vague glance, there’s enough. Boots, thick and leather, fine and mass produced. The side of a dusty. indescript pant. A flash of colored glass. The grip of a hand, curled and bloody
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Comments 15
Zack. You're...
...dreaming. [?]
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Irene?
[Pause, a rustle of the blankets as he sits up, a rubbing of the eyes.]
Yeah. Yeah.
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I don't think it was me. Even though I want to. Even though--
I don't think it was me. I really don't.
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{fumbling}
{he's dropped it}
{picks it up again, Forge being turned over between sweaty, gloveless hands... shaking hands}
{what did he see?}
{he knows what he saw}
{what does it mean?}
{ask. just ask. could it hurt? is it him? what does it mean?}
{get your shit together.}
Well that's... something.
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"Something" is a word for it, I guess.
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Narrowing it down may take time, however. In light of recent events, there appear to be many individuals that would like to see the doctor meet an unfortunate end.
[ Isley, on the other hand, doesn't sound as though he cares one way or the other what happens to the killer of whores and other women. ]
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Wait, you think this is one of THOSE dreams, don't you? [And it makes sense, doesn't it?] I need to find out who it is. This-- it won't fix anything.
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