[Again, her momentary wariness is something he's distantly cognizant of, although this time there's no silent rising of violent inclinations, no thoughts of snapping the pale stem of her neck, no visions of teeth and blood. His concern, for now, is on her reactions and moods, on whether she'll find the small indicators of personality here intolerable (laughable), the small signifiers of a guilty pleasure taken from beautiful things.
And the other items too, the ones that leave him with vague ghosting feelings that he doesn't quite understand and which - perhaps because of this - both unsettle yet draw him in.
Perhaps some of his tension is palpable as she rifles through his small collection of personal belongings, a bone-deep thrum that he feels like an overloud heartbeat, somehow giving him away. What it gives away he isn't sure, but there's the vague sense that it's something, and when each object passes beneath her gaze or avoidant touch he watches with a sickened kind of alertness.
And her comment isn't lost on him, the implication there, that he is the unreliable tool she deems distasteful. There's a feeling inside him like a fist closing tight, but he says nothing. Stands steady and still. Keeps watch.
The small measure of relief he feels when she all but bypasses the books is short lived, her glance back to him and the small inclination of her chin making it clear what she's referring to, and again the tension vibrates through his bones because that item is one of the few that he can't adequately explain, that leaves him with strange uncertain feelings.]
In truth, I'm not sure. I didn't put it there.
[He can't remember when it got there, or how, but knows it's been with him a long time, at least the last five years.]
It's made from reinforced materials, I checked. As such, I suspect it could hold me if it was ever put to use. But to my knowledge, it never has been. Perhaps it's there for emergencies, or when in transit...
[But his words tail off because this is nothing but conjecture, and the fact is that none of it feels right. There are other, simpler (nastier) ways to incapacitate him, and when moving him from one point to another no-one has ever insisted on that level of restraint-- he knows how to behave. But more concerning is the sense of nostalgia and dread that comes from looking at it, things he can't explain or even put into words.]
Perhaps Professor Einsturzen could more accurately answer your question, Ma'am, or one of the long standing Handlers. My apologies.
no worries! <3
And the other items too, the ones that leave him with vague ghosting feelings that he doesn't quite understand and which - perhaps because of this - both unsettle yet draw him in.
Perhaps some of his tension is palpable as she rifles through his small collection of personal belongings, a bone-deep thrum that he feels like an overloud heartbeat, somehow giving him away. What it gives away he isn't sure, but there's the vague sense that it's something, and when each object passes beneath her gaze or avoidant touch he watches with a sickened kind of alertness.
And her comment isn't lost on him, the implication there, that he is the unreliable tool she deems distasteful. There's a feeling inside him like a fist closing tight, but he says nothing. Stands steady and still. Keeps watch.
The small measure of relief he feels when she all but bypasses the books is short lived, her glance back to him and the small inclination of her chin making it clear what she's referring to, and again the tension vibrates through his bones because that item is one of the few that he can't adequately explain, that leaves him with strange uncertain feelings.]
In truth, I'm not sure. I didn't put it there.
[He can't remember when it got there, or how, but knows it's been with him a long time, at least the last five years.]
It's made from reinforced materials, I checked. As such, I suspect it could hold me if it was ever put to use. But to my knowledge, it never has been. Perhaps it's there for emergencies, or when in transit...
[But his words tail off because this is nothing but conjecture, and the fact is that none of it feels right. There are other, simpler (nastier) ways to incapacitate him, and when moving him from one point to another no-one has ever insisted on that level of restraint-- he knows how to behave. But more concerning is the sense of nostalgia and dread that comes from looking at it, things he can't explain or even put into words.]
Perhaps Professor Einsturzen could more accurately answer your question, Ma'am, or one of the long standing Handlers. My apologies.