how does one know it's near the end. when all hope is lost and the pain has become too much to bear. when does one know when to finally give in, give up and l e t g o---
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independent && selective [please read a l l pages]
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"The Edge --- there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."
[Okay, yeah, he’s definitely joking, but it’s the kind of sense of humor only him and maybe a few other people share. There’s a bit of a not-really smile at the response. Is it an inside joke. Probably.]
James Galloway, it’s a pleasure.
[He did say it was about six.]
- A question for a question, while I have the chance.
Out of curiosity, why are you here. And I don’t mean why we’re having this conversation. I mean - why are you here. Masquerading as part of humanity.
“Possibly— but i’ll deal with that later.”
He could joke and laugh along—- but he just didn’t get it. He wasn’t slow by any means— but Jesus, he was just confused.
“I didn’t peg you as a James— they call me Armand Gauthier.”
A brow of his own was raised at his next question. It wasn’t something he was asked a lot.
“ —- Well, if you weren’t aware— I’m pegged to explode soon. Like next on the list. Figured I’d spend some final moments doing whatever I can— my sister is down here too, someone’s got to watch over her.”
She was agonizingly unaccustomed to Armand’s reaction to knowing who and what she was — most blamed her for their misfortunes or they yelled at her for whatever event had befallen them. Some even went so far as to confuse her for choice or fate and asked why such things had to happen to them. She was not all-knowing, she was the simplicity of an outcome.
It could be something good.
Or it could be something terrible.
At her core, and in reality, she was nothing more than a witness.
❝—- uh, yeah,❞
She’s still staring at him, almost baffled.
❝Being shit out of luck isn’t so bad when you find someone who understands it pretty damn well…❞
And down goes her whiskey.
by the looks of it, that was probably not the reaction she expected.
but what could he really say? who was he to judge her for what she was created or existed to do? she was simply an outcome— not the source of pain or any sorrows that could have arose out of a situation.
just like his own date with destiny, she was not to blame for whatever was to happen.
and he would not fault either.
“that makes two of us, babe.” and with a wink, his own glass was emptied.
