ｓｅｓｓｉｏｎ》００１ ［ｔｅｘｔ］

[accommodated]

still don't get why the people in charge don't just hire a team of landscapers and a bunch of people to paint everything

that'd be a lot easier, right?

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Comments

audio.

[accommodated]

[And just like a freight train, his subconsciousness just ends up putting on the emergency brakes, only to derail right into a panicked accident. Or, in layman's terms, gone utterly blank.

That's the thing about words: you can't just recall them. Yank them right back out of the air and start all over. The really crappy thing about life is that there's no reset or do over button. There just isn't.

And without any way to completely comprehend just what the fuck came out of his mouth, Desmond finds himself holding his breath. There's not even the capacity to wish the earth would just swallow him whole.

Because that, too, would be far too easy, wouldn't it?]

audio. | (OH MAN--sorry for that massive failure of a sentence up there)

[dai]

[The pause on Malik's end was significant, to the point where one would likely question if the person was still on the other line but no, he is there and he is still and he is tightening the gears of his mentality to handle what was just said to him. This man is not from his time, he is not familiar and he has never seen him before but a comment like the one he just stated was dead on to private knowledge of who he was and that makes Malik very uncomfortable.

As well as exceedingly mad.] If you want to keep your tongue to speak such words, I would recommend telling me exactly how you come to such assumptions.

Now.

[The tone that Desmond received was not in the least bit pretty, it was dark and it was serious.]

audio. | (wonderful thing about tagging with a dyslexic: i didn't even notice)

[accommodated]

[Oh, fuck. That's usually what anyone sane would be saying, possibly thinking right about then. So maybe there was something relatively normal because a tone like that? More than enough to make Desmond want to go and crawl under a rock, pretend he hadn't said anything at all.

Or possibly didn't exist, considering how much the world almost feels like it wants to close in.

It's like he's standing right there. Can hear the murmuring life of Jerusalem beyond the walls of the Bureau , and Desmond could practically see the look Malik might even be giving him.]

I-- [Stops, almost starts.

That's how Desmond knows: there was no one else who could practically eviscerate someone with simple, acidic words. Not even Shaun seemed to be able to crawl under Desmond's skin. Not that it would have mattered, stalling brain or not.] Look, I just... I was guessing?

audio. | (pffft--alright! ♥)

[dai]

[It was not a smart thing to say for a figure in Desmonds position because not only did Malik not trust this world and it's intentions, already naturally secretive and preferring to keep to himself on matters, he did not trust outsides, particularly outsiders with knowledge they should not have. This, it was all unforgivable, it caused him to question the aptness of his job and how well he was keeping his bureau safe and tucked away from the world. It made him even more aware than he already was and that was dangerous, particularly dangerous for Desmond.] Do you think I was born yesterday?

[His voice continued and the cold steel of his tone was flawless, laced with the accented tone but it only added to the severity of the situation, the biting remarks that aimed to decapitate.] Continue to insult my intelligence and the outcome of this can worsen. Now answer the question before I start to assume things and trust me, you don't want that.

audio.

[accommodated]

[At this point, was there anything smart to say? Trust the world? Hell, half the time he isn't even sure he can trust himself. All of this just has to be an utter nightmare. That's what Desmond wants to tell himself. How do you explain to someone that you do, to an extent, know them? Know them well. Or as well as someone like Malik let's them know. Desmond doesn't even claim to be as smart as some. He tries. Mostly to get himself into gear, and when he does, it has more to do with (imagined) irritation clawing it's way up from the pit it'd been shoved into.]

No one said anything about insulting you. [It's snappish. And himself. Tired. Irritated. Trying to just-- deal with all of it, but there's pressure behind his eyes. The beginning of another one of those headaches.] Look--

["It's complicated"? "Hard to explain"? "I really don't want to do this right now"? "This is just crazy"? "Man, I could really just use a sandwich or something, because this is what happens when you forget to eat, you get weird visions or something"?]

I need to go.