[Another rough puff of breath. A shrug, a yanking of the mask partially away, baring some of the face with the ghost-shadows of the warmth and friendliness that Brian once exhibited without a second thought.]
[Maybe an explanation is in order - even if some supremely petulant, furious part of him wants to dangle it over Brian's head like a carrot on a stick, the way he always did with everyone else, just to ensure that he knows how it felt.]
[He clamps a pair of iron jaws around the impulse and shuts his eyes.]
It's complicated. It's not like either of us set out to tell each other about our lives, okay?
[Alright, this is ridiculous. Blank, vaguely threatening red eyes are only good for so much. Not so bad when you're communicating with a man in a mask. Absolutely useless when conversing with someone so human. The mask comes the rest of the way off, and dangles in Brian's hand. He gives Tim a look- an eyebrows raised, mouth set, 'oh really', kind of look.
How do you accidentally spill the beans on your past?]
[It's not like he can just...make it appear on a whim. Can he? He needed their help, the last time. Maybe he can get them to teach him, if that's even possible. It's hard to say.]
You really wanna have this conversation here? Y'know they might just come back, right?
[Tim follows with a quiet huff, glancing briefly at the stupid pile of nails in the fucking corner before shaking his head and walking on. All told, Chara's come back to weirder. He'll clean up anyway; it's his responsibility, like every other part of his mess that crept up here, into this fresh start that was supposed to be little more than a hitch in the road, a bump on the horizon.]
[He starts things off simple. As plain and easy as regular conversation.]
People from their world - they've got souls. Like, literal souls. You can summon them and see them. The - the very "culmination of your being," I think people call them.
Brian has seen monkeys with guns. Brian has been haunted by a creature that ruined his life and led to his death. Brian is now regularly communicating with a being that swaps him bike helmets for stories. It's not so difficult, at this point, to buy 'souls that you can see' as a concept.
He breathes in and out sharply and shakes his head, then waves for Tim to go on.]
Well, there's this thing called "resonance." Souls get in tune with each other. And stuff...it's hard to hide it, at that point.
[This is the worst explanation for resonance, ever, of all time. He has no idea how to even begin to get into the science behind this stuff, or the magic, or whatever the hell one calls it.]
Wasn't intentional, in our case. But like it or not, it happened.
[ The box of nails is useless at this point, so he mouths it: stuff?
How much stuff. Does this kid just know fucking everything? God. He thinks he might be sick.
No more secrets. No more hiding. Chara could tell anyone anything they wanted to. He wonders why he didn't worry about this with Tim. Maybe he just thought Tim had no reason to. This kid fucking hates him, though. That much is obvious.
Yeah, so, like I said. Not like any of us meant for it to happen. Cat’s outta that bag, and they know... [He pauses, struggling for the right terminology. Ultimately failing.]
They know what I’ve done. What you’ve done. All of it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Maybe an explanation is in order - even if some supremely petulant, furious part of him wants to dangle it over Brian's head like a carrot on a stick, the way he always did with everyone else, just to ensure that he knows how it felt.]
[He clamps a pair of iron jaws around the impulse and shuts his eyes.]
It's complicated. It's not like either of us set out to tell each other about our lives, okay?
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How do you accidentally spill the beans on your past?]
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[It's not like he can just...make it appear on a whim. Can he? He needed their help, the last time. Maybe he can get them to teach him, if that's even possible. It's hard to say.]
You really wanna have this conversation here? Y'know they might just come back, right?
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He strides past Tim by way of answer, heading into the trees. Brian doesn't wait to see if he's following. He's still a little sour. Just a tad.]
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[Tim follows with a quiet huff, glancing briefly at the stupid pile of nails in the fucking corner before shaking his head and walking on. All told, Chara's come back to weirder. He'll clean up anyway; it's his responsibility, like every other part of his mess that crept up here, into this fresh start that was supposed to be little more than a hitch in the road, a bump on the horizon.]
[He starts things off simple. As plain and easy as regular conversation.]
People from their world - they've got souls. Like, literal souls. You can summon them and see them. The - the very "culmination of your being," I think people call them.
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Brian has seen monkeys with guns. Brian has been haunted by a creature that ruined his life and led to his death. Brian is now regularly communicating with a being that swaps him bike helmets for stories. It's not so difficult, at this point, to buy 'souls that you can see' as a concept.
He breathes in and out sharply and shakes his head, then waves for Tim to go on.]
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[This is the worst explanation for resonance, ever, of all time. He has no idea how to even begin to get into the science behind this stuff, or the magic, or whatever the hell one calls it.]
Wasn't intentional, in our case. But like it or not, it happened.
No more secrets.
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How much stuff. Does this kid just know fucking everything? God. He thinks he might be sick.
No more secrets. No more hiding. Chara could tell anyone anything they wanted to. He wonders why he didn't worry about this with Tim. Maybe he just thought Tim had no reason to. This kid fucking hates him, though. That much is obvious.
He gives Tim an agitated double thumbs up.]
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They know what I’ve done. What you’ve done. All of it.