[He mutters, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. This train has thrown a bunch of psychological bullshit their way, and it makes Rex nervous. In some ways, the physical trials, the fights with ruthless beasts and new, vicious creatures, feel a lot less challenging than the teamwork with various strangers. The latter involves trust without doubt, sans careful evaluation, and Rex has been wronged horribly to the point of near death that he just can't shake his core instinct to be wary. Is any of this nonsense going to make him a better hero, or is it just all a fucking waste of time?]
We have to be careful. Have you learned nothing, I...!
[A young man walks through the doorway and into the space they're in, sporting shoulder-length, unwashed hair that's parted down the middle, sporting a familiar scowl. He says nothing, the bruising under his eyes and over the bridge of his nose fresh, seemingly worsening by the minute, as the voice of an older man shrieks in the background:
"So, you finally managed to steal somethin' worthwhile, and you end up usin' it on your goddamn face? That ugly mug of yours is worth less than this cut of meat, boy. Whatever! We'll make it work, this shit's still good."]
Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, fuck!
[Rex backs away from his younger self, who walks right past him and Mark, acting as though they aren't there.]
Shit.
He can't see us. Or, I guess, I can't see me.
[The boy sinks into a couch with ripped cushions and exposed springs, looking angry until there's the sound of another door closing, followed by some chatter and the muffled sounds of a woman's voice. Only after this does his face fall, preteen features losing all their sharp-edged bitterness, giving way to tears.
Rex pivots on his heel, watching this pathetic display of emotions, apparently experiencing nothing but irritation.]
Uuuh-'kay, what exactly is the meaning of this? I know what this is! This was the day I broke my nose and it's been crooked as shit ever since. Uh, hello! Doesn't this bullshit chooch think I'd remember, y'know! The pain of havin' to deal with this trashfire fiasco unmedicated?
[His voice adopts a mocking tone.]
Oooooh, okay! Wow. A deviated septum, what a meaningful memory! Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've been messed up way more times than this. And way worse, too! My teeth are still all on the inside of my mouth. So some grocery store owner socked me in the nose for snatchin' a cut of prime rib. Big deal!
no subject
[He mutters, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. This train has thrown a bunch of psychological bullshit their way, and it makes Rex nervous. In some ways, the physical trials, the fights with ruthless beasts and new, vicious creatures, feel a lot less challenging than the teamwork with various strangers. The latter involves trust without doubt, sans careful evaluation, and Rex has been wronged horribly to the point of near death that he just can't shake his core instinct to be wary. Is any of this nonsense going to make him a better hero, or is it just all a fucking waste of time?]
We have to be careful. Have you learned nothing, I...!
[A young man walks through the doorway and into the space they're in, sporting shoulder-length, unwashed hair that's parted down the middle, sporting a familiar scowl. He says nothing, the bruising under his eyes and over the bridge of his nose fresh, seemingly worsening by the minute, as the voice of an older man shrieks in the background:
"So, you finally managed to steal somethin' worthwhile, and you end up usin' it on your goddamn face? That ugly mug of yours is worth less than this cut of meat, boy. Whatever! We'll make it work, this shit's still good."]
Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, fuck!
[Rex backs away from his younger self, who walks right past him and Mark, acting as though they aren't there.]
Shit.
He can't see us. Or, I guess, I can't see me.
[The boy sinks into a couch with ripped cushions and exposed springs, looking angry until there's the sound of another door closing, followed by some chatter and the muffled sounds of a woman's voice. Only after this does his face fall, preteen features losing all their sharp-edged bitterness, giving way to tears.
Rex pivots on his heel, watching this pathetic display of emotions, apparently experiencing nothing but irritation.]
Uuuh-'kay, what exactly is the meaning of this? I know what this is! This was the day I broke my nose and it's been crooked as shit ever since. Uh, hello! Doesn't this bullshit chooch think I'd remember, y'know! The pain of havin' to deal with this trashfire fiasco unmedicated?
[His voice adopts a mocking tone.]
Oooooh, okay! Wow. A deviated septum, what a meaningful memory! Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've been messed up way more times than this. And way worse, too! My teeth are still all on the inside of my mouth. So some grocery store owner socked me in the nose for snatchin' a cut of prime rib. Big deal!
Can we go home now?