Usually, as far as I figure. [He doesn't really want to consider which stereotype he's going to be filling. Village idiot, maybe. Or cannon fodder. He figures if he was handpicked for any other role the powers that be were drunk as hell.]
Don't worry about it. [He glances at her jotting down his name. He has his own collection of that on the inside of a comic book he grabbed back in Philly, a running list of everyone he knows is here, comments about them (not always polite), a tally of whether they're in the mirror or not. It's with his stuff now, or he'd be writing "Ray" down in the rapidly-dwindling blank space. He gives her a bit of a nod, like he's approving of her taking notes.]
There's too many of us for it to be a good story, though. I think we got around fifty people now? Something like that by my last count, but some of us are here and some of us are trapped in the mirrors. [He assumes she woke up with a mirror. He actually doesn't know what it's like on the other side; he seems to be one of the few who's never been snatched up to the Brugh.]
no subject
Don't worry about it. [He glances at her jotting down his name. He has his own collection of that on the inside of a comic book he grabbed back in Philly, a running list of everyone he knows is here, comments about them (not always polite), a tally of whether they're in the mirror or not. It's with his stuff now, or he'd be writing "Ray" down in the rapidly-dwindling blank space. He gives her a bit of a nod, like he's approving of her taking notes.]
There's too many of us for it to be a good story, though. I think we got around fifty people now? Something like that by my last count, but some of us are here and some of us are trapped in the mirrors. [He assumes she woke up with a mirror. He actually doesn't know what it's like on the other side; he seems to be one of the few who's never been snatched up to the Brugh.]