[ Alan just sighs, his hand raising to rub his forehead with tiredness. How many things like this has he seen in his trek through the Dark Place? ]
What'll it be this time? Not another insane musical number, I hope.
[ Luckily for him, it's not. Mr. Door isn't there, the Old Gods aren't either, and there's a quiet that's fallen over the room, except for the ceiling fan and- wait. There's a man on the bed, shirtless for some reason, and as soon as he sees Alan, he moves and appears in front of him. ]
What the hell? [ Clothes and objects appearing out of nowhere isn't the weirdest thing Alan's ever seen, but it still took him by surprise. It's already occurred to Alan that the man's movements are reminiscent of Taken, and so his hand has shifted to rest on his gun in case he needs to lift it to fire. He doesn't trust anything down here, especially not someone who keeps calling him on payphones and being frustratingly vague. ]
Tom Zane. The... the poet. Or diver. Filmmaker. Whoever the hell you are. That was you on the phone?
[ Zane launches into an explanation with too many words and even more crazy metaphors than even Alan can remember using in his entire career. A crazy thought occurs to him and he pushes it away, refusing to even give it the time of day. Zane's answers aren't answers at all, and they just serve to make Alan more frustrated. ]
I don't know why you wanted me to come here. Obviously this is just another waste of time, another pointless trail leading me nowhere. What the hell does "creativity will take me where I wish to be" even mean?
[ Zane opens his mouth to say something, that smile that comes too easily to his face sliding into place, but he never gets to say whatever he was going to. The TV in the room turns on, and both men turn toward it automatically. Zane gasps, but Alan remains silent, just watching and waiting to see what's going to happen. The man on the screen looks vaguely familiar, but it's the next face that appears that causes all the air in Alan's lungs to leave him in a rush.
Green eyes, glowing as bright as always. He can't see her hair, but he knows that face. He'd know it anywhere. He steps up to the TV screen and places his hand on its surface. ]
... Jesse.
[ Is this a message? Obviously it's something, but what? ]
no subject
What'll it be this time? Not another insane musical number, I hope.
[ Luckily for him, it's not. Mr. Door isn't there, the Old Gods aren't either, and there's a quiet that's fallen over the room, except for the ceiling fan and- wait. There's a man on the bed, shirtless for some reason, and as soon as he sees Alan, he moves and appears in front of him. ]
What the hell? [ Clothes and objects appearing out of nowhere isn't the weirdest thing Alan's ever seen, but it still took him by surprise. It's already occurred to Alan that the man's movements are reminiscent of Taken, and so his hand has shifted to rest on his gun in case he needs to lift it to fire. He doesn't trust anything down here, especially not someone who keeps calling him on payphones and being frustratingly vague. ]
Tom Zane. The... the poet. Or diver. Filmmaker. Whoever the hell you are. That was you on the phone?
[ Zane launches into an explanation with too many words and even more crazy metaphors than even Alan can remember using in his entire career. A crazy thought occurs to him and he pushes it away, refusing to even give it the time of day. Zane's answers aren't answers at all, and they just serve to make Alan more frustrated. ]
I don't know why you wanted me to come here. Obviously this is just another waste of time, another pointless trail leading me nowhere. What the hell does "creativity will take me where I wish to be" even mean?
[ Zane opens his mouth to say something, that smile that comes too easily to his face sliding into place, but he never gets to say whatever he was going to. The TV in the room turns on, and both men turn toward it automatically. Zane gasps, but Alan remains silent, just watching and waiting to see what's going to happen. The man on the screen looks vaguely familiar, but it's the next face that appears that causes all the air in Alan's lungs to leave him in a rush.
Green eyes, glowing as bright as always. He can't see her hair, but he knows that face. He'd know it anywhere. He steps up to the TV screen and places his hand on its surface. ]
... Jesse.
[ Is this a message? Obviously it's something, but what? ]