[Definitely a ghost on the wind. Roy tilts his head to the side when he catches that familiar refrain -- the story of Mr. Bear has long been a favorite of Hughes' -- and he can almost recite it along with Maes. In fact, he does, mouthing the words I'm an investigator after all as his hands clench around the ladle.
...Ow. Right. Hands are still doing the thing. At least they're not as bad as they were. Roy can hold the ladle and tend a fire, so that's progress.
Truth is a bastard, pulling this image of Hughes to this halluci-world. (It's a word. He'll tell you so.)
He steps away from the stew -- let it burn, he's not hungry anymore and halluci-stew (also a word!) won't burn anyway -- and plants himself in the thoroughfare as Hughes' voice gets a little louder. Shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, and looking up at halluci-Hughes (yes. word.) through fringes of messy hair, he speaks.]
no subject
...Ow. Right. Hands are still doing the thing. At least they're not as bad as they were. Roy can hold the ladle and tend a fire, so that's progress.
Truth is a bastard, pulling this image of Hughes to this halluci-world. (It's a word. He'll tell you so.)
He steps away from the stew -- let it burn, he's not hungry anymore and halluci-stew (also a word!) won't burn anyway -- and plants himself in the thoroughfare as Hughes' voice gets a little louder. Shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, and looking up at halluci-Hughes (yes. word.) through fringes of messy hair, he speaks.]
Quit tormenting them with that old story.
[Quit tormenting me.]