[ It’s a very compassionate approach, one that Simon has no capacity to appreciate, since he’s immediately preoccupied with wanting this guy to leave and stop acknowledging this embarrassing spectacle. He grips the counter — with his right hand, the remaining portion of his left arm not doing much to help out here — in front of one of the sinks, jaw set and neck muscles corded.
He’s studiously trying not to think about the thing set into his chest, the color of the WAU’s lights, or the fact that somebody cut his head open and put some kind of blackbox thing in it. As if his head hasn’t been through enough lately.
Through the tunnel vision, he catches a glimpse of the stranger in the mirror. Obviously, it’s some starkly GQ-looking guy who’s wearing clothes that fit and doesn’t look like he has nuclear food poisoning. Because who else would it be. ]
Yeah. [ the question might seem unnecessary because the answer is obvious, but apparently not to Simon, since he not only gives an answer anyway but gives one that’s clearly stupid, in a strained tone around the constriction in his chest. ] I’m good. Sorry.
no subject
He’s studiously trying not to think about the thing set into his chest, the color of the WAU’s lights, or the fact that somebody cut his head open and put some kind of blackbox thing in it. As if his head hasn’t been through enough lately.
Through the tunnel vision, he catches a glimpse of the stranger in the mirror. Obviously, it’s some starkly GQ-looking guy who’s wearing clothes that fit and doesn’t look like he has nuclear food poisoning. Because who else would it be. ]
Yeah. [ the question might seem unnecessary because the answer is obvious, but apparently not to Simon, since he not only gives an answer anyway but gives one that’s clearly stupid, in a strained tone around the constriction in his chest. ] I’m good. Sorry.