Quoted By:
Dear Lord. It seems that not even 8ys couldn’t burn out his squirrely attitude. It seems that in spite of the accident, he’s still acting his age. Not nearly as solemn or hard-hitting as Dream-Tom, but still familiar enough to not be too much of a shock.
“Maybe later,” you assure him, hoping that he won’t remember. Caroline’s pointed look had nothing to do with any sort of deferral. “The Maggie’s a bit dinged up at the moment.”
“Fiiiiine.” He pouts, disappointed, but he bounces back quickly. “What happened to it anyway?”
“I’ll tell you over tilapia,” you promise. “Now c’mon and stand up, kid. Lemme see how tall you’ve gotten-”
Everyone starts at the sudden, sound of the door. The knob rattles, the lock clicks, and in comes the fourth member of the Godwin-Barbet-Unami disfunction junction, one heavy, metallic step after another. And the voice to waft from the hallway freezes all of you in place.
“Caroline, I’m sorry for not calling ahead, but I accidentally put the wrong address on a package…”
The last time you had seen Jean Barbet, he’d been drunk, intoxicated on a cocktail of narcotics and painkillers that lowered his inhibitions and better judgement. Not so nearly impaired as to not make himself a prosthetic replacement for the hand he’d lost. That in of itself had been an impressive feat of engineering and the sheer power of the human mind when overcome with a challenge...just to punch you in the jaw and scream grief-fueled obscenities.
But just as time hasn’t been kind to you or Caroline, it’s certainly taken its toll on Jean. You’re both only in your mid-thirties, but in three years, he looks as if he’s aged ten. There’s a slight slump to his shoulders, the one supporting his prosthetic hand. Silver-grey’s crept up along his sideburns, and his hair’s starting to thin and recede. The scraggly beard he’s since grown is in desperate need of a shave.
As soon as he enters the kitchen, time seems to stop for everyone. The blood drains from Caroline’s face, and Tom looks an odd mixture between excited and concerned. You can pinpoint the exact moment where Jean’s tired, nonchalant and disaffected changes – puzzlement, suspicion, then naked shock and disbelief.
“Sinleq!” he says with a strangled voice.
…you don’t respond. Your smile is thin and brittle. Even with all of the revelations that paint him in a more sympathetic light, you’re all too susceptible to those pesky, petty emotions. The jury’s still out on whether or not he married Caroline to spite you. And that irrational, paranoid anger wages a bitter war against the pleasure, concern and joy of seeing your best friend.
“Hello, Jean,” you reply in a deceptively calm voice.
>>Please choose one of the following:
>“I think you and I are long overdue for a one-on-one talk.” (Stay)
>“Thanks for the tea, Caroline. Tom, it was good to see you.” (Leave)
<span class="mu-s">[VOTE OPEN FOR EIGHT(8) HOURS]</span>
