[“Just”. Should his previous self hear him say such a thing, he’d be obscenely offended.
The redirect is fine, though, if it gives him something else to mull over. Something to not hyper-fixate on the fresh revelations regarding sleep and brain issues.]
It was a combination of as many terrible things you could think of, all rolled into one. It was raining, nighttime. I was speeding and texting back-and-forth about prospective new patients.
[Well, going over MRIs, but same difference.]
At that point, you could say I had it coming to me. That's how I got- [He lifts his hands up, affording clearer view of faded scars running up and down his fingers.] -these.
( Just a neurosurgeon. Jack isn't, by nature, very expressive. Even so, there's probably something detectibly deadpan written in him somewhere. His mouth, his shoulders maybe. Oh, but a lowly neurosurgeon.
Raining, texting and driving at night. At least he wasn't drinking.
He blinks at the scars, apparently having gone the entire duration of their knowing each other without noticing them. Not when handed meds or scripts, not during the MRI, not while dying together a thousand times. Nope. Completely oblivious. )
Oh. Huh. Have they been there the whole time? ( Obviously they have, stupid. Come on. ) Neurosurgery must have been really hard after that. One wrong move and their brains are basically mashed potatoes.
( Dark. Inappropriate. Sorry, he's a little desensitized. )
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ages later, i'm sorry
[“Just”. Should his previous self hear him say such a thing, he’d be obscenely offended.
The redirect is fine, though, if it gives him something else to mull over. Something to not hyper-fixate on the fresh revelations regarding sleep and brain issues.]
It was a combination of as many terrible things you could think of, all rolled into one. It was raining, nighttime. I was speeding and texting back-and-forth about prospective new patients.
[Well, going over MRIs, but same difference.]
At that point, you could say I had it coming to me. That's how I got- [He lifts his hands up, affording clearer view of faded scars running up and down his fingers.] -these.
i am slow as balls it's ok
Raining, texting and driving at night. At least he wasn't drinking.
He blinks at the scars, apparently having gone the entire duration of their knowing each other without noticing them. Not when handed meds or scripts, not during the MRI, not while dying together a thousand times. Nope. Completely oblivious. )
Oh. Huh. Have they been there the whole time? ( Obviously they have, stupid. Come on. ) Neurosurgery must have been really hard after that. One wrong move and their brains are basically mashed potatoes.
( Dark. Inappropriate. Sorry, he's a little desensitized. )