"He's no one's," he spits out, shoulders squared and trembling with the hostility he hasn't bothered to suppress. "But he sure as hell isn't yours. You let him go. You turn him back to how he was, you got that?"
His head is pounding, the rush of adrenaline to his head dizzying. He has no authority here. He has no authority at all. This thing has no reason to listen to him, no reason to be intimidated by some scared, trembling, sick man and his ghost. The only part of him that might have any bearing on the events at hand is currently locked away, is always locked away unless -
Unless that's what they've always wanted.
That was the whole point of their questions the first time, wasn't it? They wanted to know about him. The other him.
Tim looks at the thing with the utmost disgust.
"What do you want?" he asks, lowering his voice, his eyes dark and watchful. He trusts it'll interpret his meaning, not so much an inquiry as an oblique offer, heavy and guarded and hard-edged.
no subject
His head is pounding, the rush of adrenaline to his head dizzying. He has no authority here. He has no authority at all. This thing has no reason to listen to him, no reason to be intimidated by some scared, trembling, sick man and his ghost. The only part of him that might have any bearing on the events at hand is currently locked away, is always locked away unless -
Unless that's what they've always wanted.
That was the whole point of their questions the first time, wasn't it? They wanted to know about him. The other him.
Tim looks at the thing with the utmost disgust.
"What do you want?" he asks, lowering his voice, his eyes dark and watchful. He trusts it'll interpret his meaning, not so much an inquiry as an oblique offer, heavy and guarded and hard-edged.