[The juxtaposition of truth and home in such proximity is like a cross-tabulation that summons a memory, one of those rarely recalled ones that Paul holds, but doesn't dwell on.]
My father once told me that respect for truth comes close to the basis of all morality.
[The breath he takes after that is swift and expansive, almost and not quite the kind of inward drawn shock that comes after brush a hand across searing metal. He settles himself as fast as he unsettled, tamping himself down with the coolness of the breeze coming in from the sea, but there's a trace preoccupation left behind like an after image.]
I suppose you'd agree on that. [Paul pulls back his shoulders, scans the treeline for anything else lurking there not already at his back.] Yes. Let's go. I'd like to see that chart.
[Palamedes almost certainly recognizes the look of someone who finds themselves considering a problem from a novel angle, not yet sure if it's a useful one, but not yet rejecting it out of hand.]
no subject
My father once told me that respect for truth comes close to the basis of all morality.
[The breath he takes after that is swift and expansive, almost and not quite the kind of inward drawn shock that comes after brush a hand across searing metal. He settles himself as fast as he unsettled, tamping himself down with the coolness of the breeze coming in from the sea, but there's a trace preoccupation left behind like an after image.]
I suppose you'd agree on that. [Paul pulls back his shoulders, scans the treeline for anything else lurking there not already at his back.] Yes. Let's go. I'd like to see that chart.
[Palamedes almost certainly recognizes the look of someone who finds themselves considering a problem from a novel angle, not yet sure if it's a useful one, but not yet rejecting it out of hand.]