[He looks over at her, then returns his attention to the sky and his cigarette. He figures how limited that “alive” probably is. It’s probably a body-alive, not a brain-alive, given her circumstances. Heart-alive and bleeding and soul-dead.]
Well, at least you got thumbs. Could be worse. [On that front and possibly that front alone.] You can still read and write.
[He realizes thumbs aren’t necessary to read but doesn’t want to draw attention to his conversational stumble, so he doesn’t.
He shrugs.]
Go with it, I guess. Try not to fuck it up too hard. I’ll help you try and get answers, if that’s what you’re trying to do.
[It’s something, he realizes, that he wants to do. It’s a goal without fuzzed-out, vague edges, without too much optimism dragging it into the realm of the impossible. It appeals to the buried-deep parts of him that wanted to help people a long time ago, before anger and apathy caked themselves on. There’s a simple part in most people that just wants to alleviate pain wherever they find it, in others and in themselves. That’s the part that makes that offer to Sariatu now.]
no subject
Well, at least you got thumbs. Could be worse. [On that front and possibly that front alone.] You can still read and write.
[He realizes thumbs aren’t necessary to read but doesn’t want to draw attention to his conversational stumble, so he doesn’t.
He shrugs.]
Go with it, I guess. Try not to fuck it up too hard. I’ll help you try and get answers, if that’s what you’re trying to do.
[It’s something, he realizes, that he wants to do. It’s a goal without fuzzed-out, vague edges, without too much optimism dragging it into the realm of the impossible. It appeals to the buried-deep parts of him that wanted to help people a long time ago, before anger and apathy caked themselves on. There’s a simple part in most people that just wants to alleviate pain wherever they find it, in others and in themselves. That’s the part that makes that offer to Sariatu now.]