"Thank you." Hot sauce goes on sandwich, sandwich goes in face. He'd eaten the entirety of it and was rubbing sauce from his fingers with a small napkin.
"What... was it like? Physically. Did you feel strange?" His hand goes to his chest again.
It takes October a moment to put his thoughts into words.
"...Pain," he finally answers. "I know that I am not injured or ill. But... there was pain when I saw what had been done to November and May, and... there is pain again when I remember it. I feel cold, and... weary. I have been travelling and have not eaten or rested, but this is... different."
"Is it always painful and cold?" October asks softly. "Is it always going to cause me to want to act rashly, to take them away from there even though I do not know where to bring them?"
There's another pause and October speaks again, his voice a little steadier now.
"I have seen... what compassion and empathy do for humans. I am told that it makes one... warm and... happy. Will I... experience that, as well?" His gaze drops. Again, his voice goes quiet and a little choked, now. "I do not know if I can."
October looks a little indecisive. "I was brought here, but I do not know why. I think he wants information. He has not harmed me, but... there is something in his mind...."
"They were... close, weren't they? Humans... do not do well when they are separated from those they are close to. Their personalities change. Do you think this may have happened to Peter Bishop?"
He isn't sure how to put across to Donald that he senses something not-human about Peter. His eyes dart and he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
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"What... was it like? Physically. Did you feel strange?" His hand goes to his chest again.
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He's smiling, pleased. "What do you feel?"
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"...Pain," he finally answers. "I know that I am not injured or ill. But... there was pain when I saw what had been done to November and May, and... there is pain again when I remember it. I feel cold, and... weary. I have been travelling and have not eaten or rested, but this is... different."
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He rubs his chest, eyes closing wearily.
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It's hard to judge how far along October's come, if being touched is uncomfortable or not.
"You share their pain because you care about them and caring can be wonderful."
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"I have seen... what compassion and empathy do for humans. I am told that it makes one... warm and... happy. Will I... experience that, as well?" His gaze drops. Again, his voice goes quiet and a little choked, now. "I do not know if I can."
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Please don't make him promise. He's done with promises.
"We should get going--if you want to come with Astrid and I to her new home. I don't feel right about leaving you alone here."
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And: "I can't tell you what he wants either, I don't have any clue."
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He isn't sure how to put across to Donald that he senses something not-human about Peter. His eyes dart and he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
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And he can't imagine what it's like to have your child die.
"This isn't a very nice place to live, too."
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Even though he suspects he knows at least part of the answer.
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Etta. He met her more than once, not that any of the Bishops remember.
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"And... there is something... not human."
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"Not human?"