[ There are a few different ways in which this is all immediately throwing Danse for a loop, and the more serious ones promptly take a backseat to raising a hand to the side of his head in utter bafflement. He's been sitting by his rearview mirror for two hours and somehow failed to notice the way his ears have taken on a different size, shape and degree of hairiness. ]
For the love of--
[ He despairs. But it would be worse if he were talking to someone with more room to judge, he thinks, as his eyes scan in turn over those new scales. He doesn't immediately draw the connection that the dream has stress-triggered any of this. And he has to wonder now, at this reaction, if the dream really had been shared at all--if his own subconscious hadn't just somehow invented a scenario, in a way it's never done before but other people claim theirs always do, and Arcade hadn't had anything to do with it at all or been any the wiser.
(Danse has not been lucky enough to find any cigarettes lying around the ruins. He has never craved one more desperately than he does right now, in a way strong enough to unconsciously project.) ]
No. It's not a medical query. I assumed you would... [ Recognize what he wanted to talk about, if not actually want to talk about it in turn; Danse hasn't assumed the conversation would be welcome. He certainly doesn't know where to begin if he has to explain all of it, or ask what Arcade had dreamed about. ]
no subject
[ There are a few different ways in which this is all immediately throwing Danse for a loop, and the more serious ones promptly take a backseat to raising a hand to the side of his head in utter bafflement. He's been sitting by his rearview mirror for two hours and somehow failed to notice the way his ears have taken on a different size, shape and degree of hairiness. ]
For the love of--
[ He despairs. But it would be worse if he were talking to someone with more room to judge, he thinks, as his eyes scan in turn over those new scales. He doesn't immediately draw the connection that the dream has stress-triggered any of this. And he has to wonder now, at this reaction, if the dream really had been shared at all--if his own subconscious hadn't just somehow invented a scenario, in a way it's never done before but other people claim theirs always do, and Arcade hadn't had anything to do with it at all or been any the wiser.
(Danse has not been lucky enough to find any cigarettes lying around the ruins. He has never craved one more desperately than he does right now, in a way strong enough to unconsciously project.) ]
No. It's not a medical query. I assumed you would... [ Recognize what he wanted to talk about, if not actually want to talk about it in turn; Danse hasn't assumed the conversation would be welcome. He certainly doesn't know where to begin if he has to explain all of it, or ask what Arcade had dreamed about. ]
I shouldn't have bothered you.