I'm a shady person. No big surprises there. [Scratching at his forearms a little, absently.] Maybe they'll figure it out, but until then. . . I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to get it off my chest somehow, as bad an idea as that is. [There's a slight belated chuckle, like he just thought of a joke he hadn't intended.] You could immediately go and tell her I am a liar, if you wanted to, but all it will do is force her to worry about all of the things I'm worrying about now.
[she shakes her head silently—no plans to run off and narc to beauregard—and she doesn't even know the other person. besides, she was good at keeping secrets, too.
but she does give him a careful, appraising look.]
[He leans back in his chain, his hand in his chin. Uncertain, but evidently fascinated. It's probably not hard to tell, after two instances of it, that anything related to the concept of time very obviously piques his interest, even if he tries to play it a little cool.]
. . . I'll admit, I don't know very much about that sort of thing. His memories are of something different than what you remember?
It doesn't take a particularly observant person to see that he's struggling. But it caught my attention a little. There are certain things I think I will always recognize.
[The arm scratching and long awkward pauses continues.]
What it looks like when something has happened to someone. . . when they're carrying more pain than they know how to carry? Scheisse. I must sound crazy right now. He is fighting with geese, it is no great insight.
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[she takes another bite of pizza.]
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but she does give him a careful, appraising look.]
Is the physical difference on your chest?
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Something like that.
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Thank you for sharing with me, Caleb.
It won't leave the three of us.
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[He sighs a little, still unsure, but - ]
Then can I ask you, if it isn't intrusive. . . the people who matter most to you?
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Some of them are here with me.
[two friends and two friends. peas in a pod.]
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One I'm not worried for. One I am.
[...]
I'll trade you a secret.
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[In fact, he's a little relieved to get a secret back from his secret.]
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I have a somewhat similar situation with one of my two—his name is Claude.
I'm a little ahead of him. Except...
[...]
Things are... different.
[she's genuinely not sure how else to put it in context at the moment]
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He may be from an "alternative timeline".
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[He leans back in his chain, his hand in his chin. Uncertain, but evidently fascinated. It's probably not hard to tell, after two instances of it, that anything related to the concept of time very obviously piques his interest, even if he tries to play it a little cool.]
. . . I'll admit, I don't know very much about that sort of thing. His memories are of something different than what you remember?
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[and even if she's somehow misread the situation, she's concerned.]
But there's still the issue of being behind me in time.
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[Things don't have to go quite as badly.]
Your friends here are Claude and. . . ?
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Dimitri.
Who was your friend besides Beauregard?
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[If he's the one she's worried about when she's friends with Dimitri???]
Mollymauk Tealeaf. Purple fellow with horns.
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It's Dimitri I'm worried for.
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[He's quiet for a moment, scratching his arms.]
It doesn't take a particularly observant person to see that he's struggling. But it caught my attention a little. There are certain things I think I will always recognize.
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Like what?
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[The arm scratching and long awkward pauses continues.]
What it looks like when something has happened to someone. . . when they're carrying more pain than they know how to carry? Scheisse. I must sound crazy right now. He is fighting with geese, it is no great insight.
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He's carrying a lot on his shoulders.
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[Well, he doesn't really know anything about Dimitri. But. He's obviously carrying something.]
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I think he'd just enjoy normal, friendly conversation, even if he rebukes it.
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