0100101110 → {video/action} violet city [4th Wall Post!]

[triptoprofiling]

[There seated behind the worktable is Norman who is wearing a pair of sunglasses and a leather glove on his right-hand.

I know what you're thinking. Who the hell wears sunglasses inside the house (let alone an unlit workroom with only a few rays of sunlight peeking through the blinds)? You would think he's swatting flies away from the way he is throwing his hands in the air like he just doesn't care.]

It's always the same thing.

[He continues to throw around his right arm.]

Sames files, same data...same everything. It can't even tell me if chicken's chicken anymore.

[Norman's hand dance comes to a stop as he takes off his glasses.]

I need water.

Comments

[lieutenantantichrist]

Neither of us are going around telling anybody I'm a ninja or a fucking horse, so that makes both of us the sane ones here.

[He looks around the room. It looks fairly normal, though he isn't going to let his guard down. He's seen too many things that shouldn't exist.]

Here's some free advice, Norman: if you wanna stay that way, don't look outside.

[triptoprofiling]

[Without taking any regard to Blake's advice, Norman proceeds to get off from his chair to look out the window. Nothing out of the ordinary--

Oh.


Oh wait.


Oh wait no. That's not normal.


On top of that, he feels a dizzy spell coming over. Happy weekend.]

I...Wh-What?

[nostabbing]

But you won't let me wear it. Even though it's useless.

[Okay, now that basically everyone's established that you're lying like a rug there, Norman. Life goes on.]

You solve a lot of homicides?

[triptoprofiling]

[In Norman's mind, it's best if she or anyone else for that matter didn't know about it. The further he can keep ARI away from their reach the better. Even if he does have to lie straight through his teeth. It's for the best.]

As much as I can. I'd be a lousy profiler if I had an inconsistent track record.

[He sets his mug down.]

Alright, my turn is up. What's your story?

[nostabbing]

[And therein lies the problem: it is a story. There are a couple she could tell here: the real one (unlikely), the Alice White one (reasonable), or the Special Agent Hagen one (because he's FBI). But how is she supposed to know which one is the most advantageous? That's something Sophie would know. Sophie wouldn't even have to think about it.]

I'm a bookkeeper. I...keep...books.

[Like in a daycare, she presumes. Probably.]

I don't like it here.

[...she's not sure if that was Alice or Parker, saying that.]

[triptoprofiling]

Bookkeeper, eh? Sounds nice.

[He takes a mental note of that. Even for a self-explanatory name as bookkeeper there is something vaguely off about it. Usually it's 'I'm a bookkeeper at 'X' place' or 'I do this bookeeping gig to keep the bills paid' but he decides not to press on.]

Sorry, I would've cleaned if I knew I was going to have unannounced company.

[nostabbing]

[...oh, wait, hang on, that just sounded like he meant—

Wow, is this guy a kindred spirit or something? That's the kind of slip she would've made. Probably. Most likely.]

I meant here.

[More expansively, Jayden. She motions a little for emphasis.]

In Johto.

[And after another beat.]

One of my friends is here and he thinks I'm just a hallucination.

[lieutenantantichrist]

[Blake hangs back, well away from the window, though he does catch a couple stray lights and noises that his brain does its best to filter out.]

Told you so.

Serves you right for not listening.

[neededlassie]

[Shaun looks up at Norman when the agent puts a hand on his shoulder, and his gaze follows the agent as Norman kneels down to his level.

He gives a miserable sniffle and wipes his nose on the back of his hand (which is then wiped on his shorts). His eyes are red like he's been crying, but he's making a valiant effort to not let the tears fall.

He nods with a wibbly, sad smile.]

I wish I coulda seen them again, though...

[hug him. hug the child. do it, Norman.]