Right, of course. Daniel doesn't know why that struck him as some sort of obstacle but he'll gladly blame that failure in reasoning on sleep deprivation. He rubs at his face with both hands again, heavily considering dosing himself up with more caffeine despite the temptation of simply knocking out. Either way Seth wouldn't really be getting company that's fully conscious which is, frustratingly enough, exactly what Daniel thinks he might need most right now.
He drops his hands, blinking rapidly to clear away the faint shadowed colors that followed the pressure of palms against eyelids, then squints at the darker line that's clearly visible through the soaked white fabric of Seth's shirt.
The darker line of - numbers?
No.
That had been the dream. Hadn't it been the dream? It had been the dream. The dream.
"Seth?" Daniel asks, the word high and strange and edged with panic. "Um - is that - on your back, is that, um, a tattoo?"
A chill settles between the vertebrae of his neck. It had been the dream. Hadn't it? It had been the dream. The dream that - had nothing to do with reality, because that wouldn't make sense because it had been a dream.
no subject
He drops his hands, blinking rapidly to clear away the faint shadowed colors that followed the pressure of palms against eyelids, then squints at the darker line that's clearly visible through the soaked white fabric of Seth's shirt.
The darker line of - numbers?
No.
That had been the dream. Hadn't it been the dream? It had been the dream. The dream.
"Seth?" Daniel asks, the word high and strange and edged with panic. "Um - is that - on your back, is that, um, a tattoo?"
A chill settles between the vertebrae of his neck. It had been the dream. Hadn't it? It had been the dream. The dream that - had nothing to do with reality, because that wouldn't make sense because it had been a dream.