[ In this time. Stephen thinks back to the man in the tricorn hat in the hallway just a couple of days ago. Not too far off from the style this guy is wearing, and possibly even closer in terms of the century he hails from – assuming it's an Earth century, with typical chronological progression. If Stephen's learned anything from the Watcher, it's that within the wide swaths of the multiverse, anything is possible. No assumptions should be taken for granted.
Which might help explain the guy's gregarious cheer as he ambles over and plops down. Stephen's eyes follow him, as he remains hunched over the bench, bony fingers gripping the backrest just a little too tightly. He takes a sip from his conjured water glass as the man comports himself like the second sister's love interest in a Jane Austen novel.
Or... maybe Bram Stoker. Stephen's perception has been so dulled in this place, the oceans inside him so volatile and unruly, that only now in this moment of respite does he begin to perceive a fuller picture. There's something more to this man, and maybe even more to the more – two opposing forces, one sparking between atoms, the other one consuming them. ]
I'm fine. Just... getting a handle on things. [ On myself. He slowly rounds the bench, eases himself into a seat next to the other guy – or, rather, on the opposite end of the same bench, with calculated empty space between them. Stephen takes another sip, frowns, gestures the glass and its liquid back into thin air, like he's annoyed he needed it in the first place. After a beat–
sorry for the wait, was appin'!
Which might help explain the guy's gregarious cheer as he ambles over and plops down. Stephen's eyes follow him, as he remains hunched over the bench, bony fingers gripping the backrest just a little too tightly. He takes a sip from his conjured water glass as the man comports himself like the second sister's love interest in a Jane Austen novel.
Or... maybe Bram Stoker. Stephen's perception has been so dulled in this place, the oceans inside him so volatile and unruly, that only now in this moment of respite does he begin to perceive a fuller picture. There's something more to this man, and maybe even more to the more – two opposing forces, one sparking between atoms, the other one consuming them. ]
I'm fine. Just... getting a handle on things. [ On myself. He slowly rounds the bench, eases himself into a seat next to the other guy – or, rather, on the opposite end of the same bench, with calculated empty space between them. Stephen takes another sip, frowns, gestures the glass and its liquid back into thin air, like he's annoyed he needed it in the first place. After a beat–
Okay, fine. He'll bite. ]
What is that? Around you.