Neal is on a preferred bench in a quiet corner of a pocket park, he thinks safe enough to take out and examine the delicate ceramic limb he got in the mail a day ago. It makes him think of the beach from a few months back, the endless wash of dolls onto the shore, the way he started having nightmares when he tried to help pick them up. But there are no nightmares specifically triggered by these that he's noticed. It just makes him anxious. Makes him... he's not sure.
At the sound of someone else's voice at close quarters, Neal closes his hand around the foot like that will make it disappear. He looks up to meet Jesus's eyes with a smile--and then immediately falters at the familiarity of the face under the beard. His grip on the doll's ceramic foot tightens.
It's not Jesus's fault that he's showed up a mere month after Neal tried and failed to kill his own evil twin. After Malcolm had to do it for him.
"Where did I get what?" Like this man could be referring to anything but the broken piece of something dangeorus squeezed in Neal's fingers.
hi jesus have your posh doppelganger's posh boyfriend
At the sound of someone else's voice at close quarters, Neal closes his hand around the foot like that will make it disappear. He looks up to meet Jesus's eyes with a smile--and then immediately falters at the familiarity of the face under the beard. His grip on the doll's ceramic foot tightens.
It's not Jesus's fault that he's showed up a mere month after Neal tried and failed to kill his own evil twin. After Malcolm had to do it for him.
"Where did I get what?" Like this man could be referring to anything but the broken piece of something dangeorus squeezed in Neal's fingers.