[ Silence falls and she continues to watch him. Not eerily or in an overbearing way. Intently, worriedly. He was acting more like himself in the cell--until the brothers started up. Something they said got under his skin. Made whatever is going in his head worse.
« He's not drifting away. He's still here, but, not fully. More like he's distracted instead of wandering. In his head, I mean. »
Then, he speaks again. Her gaze lifts once more at the sound of her name and not formal title or surname. Her eyes light up ever so slightly, but, she still tries to temper her reaction.
Just in case.
Her eyebrows knit together. Peachy? ]
"Peachy." [ The corners of her lips tug, but the humor tone is more in her eyes. Of course, he doesn't mean it, but maybe seeing a lighter reaction will help. ] Maybe I'm a bit more than peachy. But, not much more.
[ Her fingers curl around his hand and wrist. Gently. Anything more than that might set him off. ]
I imagine Casey and Anderson wouldn't let you get far. [ Her gaze softens. ] We were held up at our monitoring site. We never got the tip that the FBI found you. Otherwise, we would of been here sooner.
[ Jesse drops her gaze to look over him again. Dried blood, some mud, signs of a fight. The Cult tried to do a number on him. Or, maybe he did a number to the Cult. Both things are possible even if she wants to believe Alan couldn't bring himself to do... whatever happened to cause so much blood.
What he says next stops her in her metaphoric tracks. Everything she was thinking comes to a sudden stop in her mind. Her eyes widen by a fraction and eyebrows raise. Breath catches in her throat. A small shake is in her hands. ]
...You did? [ Small, quiet, but not disbelief. Surprised.
Green eyes fall from his as she watches every movement his hand makes. She has seen his manuscript pages before. They match the page in the Panopticon. Same size, shape, even font face of the Typewritten Page. Some have been scratched out, or blocked by dried black liquid. This page, however, isn't exactly like the others.
It's torn. Violently scratched out. A hole from a pen tip.
Jesse starts at the top of the page and slowly makes her way down the page. Something is off about the way the unscratched out parts flow. It... doesn't seem like Alan's voice. The written in parts? Yes, those sound like Alan. Even the arrows pointing to when the written parts should be taking place. Those sound like the best selling author she knows and loves.
Her eyes move to the top of the page and read it once more. She can feel how the story is trying to alter things around them. The nudge--just like before--being there to try and get her to act in a way it wants her to. Except, this time, Jesse knows it's not the story. At least, not in the same way that it was for dealing with Hartman. The story is changing because of what they wanted. They demanded this of the story. The one thing that can be theirs despite all the horror going on.
She raises one shaking hand to touch the hand written words. She's never seen Alan's physical writing before--never touched it. It's real, and he really did write it in. Like he said he would. He kept his promise. Did he want to? Was he upset at having to do it, and that's why the page has a hole in it and uneven writing?
« He really wrote it. Like he said he would. Despite everything... he... when was the last time someone kept their promise to me? The last time outside of orders and their job. A promise to me. » ]
...you really did...
[ Most people might say it's obvious he did, as the evidence is in her hands. Or maybe that she is overreacting. But to Jesse Faden? It's proof of someone to believe. Someone who will keep their word in a world that never took hers seriously. Someone to trust with those things that are closest to her, underneath the walls and levels of control.
« Alan really did it. »
She blinks and inhales unevenly. Another blink and she knows it's unstoppable now. That last guarded wall finally comes down. Her vision clouds, and she can feel the warm water start to roll down her cheeks. No tucking her head to the side, darting her eyes away. She keeps them on the page in her trembling hands.
Perhaps, for the first time, Alan Wake is seeing that ordinary woman buried behind walls and control. The girl who played in a dump and lost everything over the span of a few weeks. Who became a woman filled with distrust and paranoia, unable to make a connection like this to anyone. ]
no subject
« He's not drifting away. He's still here, but, not fully. More like he's distracted instead of wandering. In his head, I mean. »
Then, he speaks again. Her gaze lifts once more at the sound of her name and not formal title or surname. Her eyes light up ever so slightly, but, she still tries to temper her reaction.
Just in case.
Her eyebrows knit together. Peachy? ]
"Peachy." [ The corners of her lips tug, but the humor tone is more in her eyes. Of course, he doesn't mean it, but maybe seeing a lighter reaction will help. ] Maybe I'm a bit more than peachy. But, not much more.
[ Her fingers curl around his hand and wrist. Gently. Anything more than that might set him off. ]
I imagine Casey and Anderson wouldn't let you get far. [ Her gaze softens. ] We were held up at our monitoring site. We never got the tip that the FBI found you. Otherwise, we would of been here sooner.
[ Jesse drops her gaze to look over him again. Dried blood, some mud, signs of a fight. The Cult tried to do a number on him. Or, maybe he did a number to the Cult. Both things are possible even if she wants to believe Alan couldn't bring himself to do... whatever happened to cause so much blood.
What he says next stops her in her metaphoric tracks. Everything she was thinking comes to a sudden stop in her mind. Her eyes widen by a fraction and eyebrows raise. Breath catches in her throat. A small shake is in her hands. ]
...You did? [ Small, quiet, but not disbelief. Surprised.
Green eyes fall from his as she watches every movement his hand makes. She has seen his manuscript pages before. They match the page in the Panopticon. Same size, shape, even font face of the Typewritten Page. Some have been scratched out, or blocked by dried black liquid. This page, however, isn't exactly like the others.
It's torn. Violently scratched out. A hole from a pen tip.
Jesse starts at the top of the page and slowly makes her way down the page. Something is off about the way the unscratched out parts flow. It... doesn't seem like Alan's voice. The written in parts? Yes, those sound like Alan. Even the arrows pointing to when the written parts should be taking place. Those sound like the best selling author she knows and loves.
Her eyes move to the top of the page and read it once more. She can feel how the story is trying to alter things around them. The nudge--just like before--being there to try and get her to act in a way it wants her to. Except, this time, Jesse knows it's not the story. At least, not in the same way that it was for dealing with Hartman. The story is changing because of what they wanted. They demanded this of the story. The one thing that can be theirs despite all the horror going on.
She raises one shaking hand to touch the hand written words. She's never seen Alan's physical writing before--never touched it. It's real, and he really did write it in. Like he said he would. He kept his promise. Did he want to? Was he upset at having to do it, and that's why the page has a hole in it and uneven writing?
« He really wrote it. Like he said he would. Despite everything... he... when was the last time someone kept their promise to me? The last time outside of orders and their job. A promise to me. » ]
...you really did...
[ Most people might say it's obvious he did, as the evidence is in her hands. Or maybe that she is overreacting. But to Jesse Faden? It's proof of someone to believe. Someone who will keep their word in a world that never took hers seriously. Someone to trust with those things that are closest to her, underneath the walls and levels of control.
« Alan really did it. »
She blinks and inhales unevenly. Another blink and she knows it's unstoppable now. That last guarded wall finally comes down. Her vision clouds, and she can feel the warm water start to roll down her cheeks. No tucking her head to the side, darting her eyes away. She keeps them on the page in her trembling hands.
Perhaps, for the first time, Alan Wake is seeing that ordinary woman buried behind walls and control. The girl who played in a dump and lost everything over the span of a few weeks. Who became a woman filled with distrust and paranoia, unable to make a connection like this to anyone. ]