There is only the Psionic, hearing a collection of words coming out of Foster's mouth--answers to questions he asked--and not listening to them at all.
Which is--well, it's not the exact reason he received Psi's claim to want to understand him with such confusion, with such alarm and resentment--but it's less terrible to approach, so it is now. His dread of the inevitable. All he can remember now, and he remembers nothing but more of it, growing worse and worse and worse. This is what he hates... he hates talking to anyone, he hates it, he hates the results, he hates the process--
He buries one hand in his hair, trying to push his fingers back through it, and instead gets tangled in a knot of crusted blood.
"No. No! I'm just a disease!I'm just a disease! I am... just... a disease."
Both hands buried in his hair, clenched tightly with fistfuls of filthy blond locks--
He cannot say it any more literally! He always says exactly what he means, and no one ever hears it at all.
no subject
There is no 'irritating vagueness.'
There is only the Psionic, hearing a collection of words coming out of Foster's mouth--answers to questions he asked--and not listening to them at all.
Which is--well, it's not the exact reason he received Psi's claim to want to understand him with such confusion, with such alarm and resentment--but it's less terrible to approach, so it is now. His dread of the inevitable. All he can remember now, and he remembers nothing but more of it, growing worse and worse and worse. This is what he hates... he hates talking to anyone, he hates it, he hates the results, he hates the process--
He buries one hand in his hair, trying to push his fingers back through it, and instead gets tangled in a knot of crusted blood.
"No. No! I'm just a disease! I'm just a disease! I am... just... a disease."
Both hands buried in his hair, clenched tightly with fistfuls of filthy blond locks--
He cannot say it any more literally! He always says exactly what he means, and no one ever hears it at all.