[And because he's good at doing what he's told, and there's no reason not to, he follow just behind. He guesses that not having elevators isn't so bad. At least it's a way to keep fit. And where he might be lacking in strength, he makes up for in speed. There's not much to do in a hospital. Running had become something of a meditation when he had the energy for it. A little patch of clear sky through thick, medically induced fog.]
I'm from Harmony, Pennsylvania. It's a mining town in the middle of nowhere surrounded by more nowhere.
[He speaks as they go, his longer legs not finding it difficult to two-by-two the stairs. Something sparks in the back of his head. Growling hellhounds and the scraping of an axe against the wall. He'd been bounding up these stairs not too long ago, but it wasn't to get burgers. It was to seek safety. None of which he found- waking, instead, a day later on the floor soaked in blood. He had to assume it was his own but he wasn't hurt enough for it to make sense. In fact, he didn't seem to be hurt at all. All the muscle pain, the whiplash, even his stitches seemed to have healed up considerably and the cut on his face was all but gone. Only lately had it dawned on him that River might have been right. Maybe he had died, but at Harry's hands? He couldn't, wouldn't accept that. He'd need proof.]
I've traveled a little. Went on the road for a few years, just kind of traveling around to see what was out there. Get a change of pace.
[Only it was somewhere out there that he'd lost his way. Sarah had moved on, people had picked themselves up and gotten on with their lives, but him? He couldn't. He'd spent so much time running that he hadn't laid any breadcrumbs to find his way back.]
action;
[And because he's good at doing what he's told, and there's no reason not to, he follow just behind. He guesses that not having elevators isn't so bad. At least it's a way to keep fit. And where he might be lacking in strength, he makes up for in speed. There's not much to do in a hospital. Running had become something of a meditation when he had the energy for it. A little patch of clear sky through thick, medically induced fog.]
I'm from Harmony, Pennsylvania. It's a mining town in the middle of nowhere surrounded by more nowhere.
[He speaks as they go, his longer legs not finding it difficult to two-by-two the stairs. Something sparks in the back of his head. Growling hellhounds and the scraping of an axe against the wall. He'd been bounding up these stairs not too long ago, but it wasn't to get burgers. It was to seek safety. None of which he found- waking, instead, a day later on the floor soaked in blood. He had to assume it was his own but he wasn't hurt enough for it to make sense. In fact, he didn't seem to be hurt at all. All the muscle pain, the whiplash, even his stitches seemed to have healed up considerably and the cut on his face was all but gone. Only lately had it dawned on him that River might have been right. Maybe he had died, but at Harry's hands? He couldn't, wouldn't accept that. He'd need proof.]
I've traveled a little. Went on the road for a few years, just kind of traveling around to see what was out there. Get a change of pace.
[Only it was somewhere out there that he'd lost his way. Sarah had moved on, people had picked themselves up and gotten on with their lives, but him? He couldn't. He'd spent so much time running that he hadn't laid any breadcrumbs to find his way back.]