[Lazarus' presence along the edges of Paul's nervous system is usually a nebulous, undifferentiated thing, and his elliptical orbit of a sleep cycle rarely draws Paul's attention except at the grinding edge of exhaustion near its outer reach. It turns out that separation of conscious awareness doesn't hold as true when it comes to shock. The world fills with grey static as Paul waits for his answer, curled up against the kitchen counter under a blanket considerately draped over his forcibly motionless shoulders. There's nothing wrong with him, so there's nothing more to be done for him than that.
(He says it's all right to let him wait on his own; he's still not, and that's another kind of static, dappled like rain.)
It's in this context Paul reads the message on the Omni balanced precariously on his chest tucked knees, and he does find the question just a little disingenuous.]
You know why. [Control has come back to his voice, obsidian sharp and brittle.] Don't play a game with me. I'm not in the mood.
no subject
(He says it's all right to let him wait on his own; he's still not, and that's another kind of static, dappled like rain.)
It's in this context Paul reads the message on the Omni balanced precariously on his chest tucked knees, and he does find the question just a little disingenuous.]
You know why. [Control has come back to his voice, obsidian sharp and brittle.] Don't play a game with me. I'm not in the mood.