[ Henry doesn't have much of an answer to that statement. He wonders if he should add that the notes also appeared around his apartment. It seems like Joseph was trying to drop pieces of his research into the reality that Henry occupied. However, he couldn't give it all at once, for some reason.
However, if he had everything that Joseph knew, what would he be able to do with any of it?
He lets that question go because of what Vander says. His eyes unfocus. Henry has always been more of a pool of water - low energy, little expression or shifts of tone in his voice. He would rather run or seek an escape than fight.
However - however - he doesn't think it was those people's time. He doesn't believe they deserved the way that they died. Someone dragged them into a hellish, closed-off world and tortured them to death. Their last moments were in fear and pain. Because of some ritual. He barely understands what the ritual's goal would be. He just understands -- it wasn't fair.
Henry used to be angry about what was happening to him. It was a quiet frustration that burned in the back of his mind. But he wasn't an explosively volatile individual. It's why everything in his apartment remained in place and untouched; he wasn't the kind of person to grab a lamp and slam it against the wall to shatter it in helpless bitterness.
However, he is upset what happened to all those people. Some of them weren't innocent; some of them had done terrible things. But even then, it wasn't fair.
So, he stands - denouncing what is said in silence alone. His fists clenched and shaking; his eyes refocusing to quiet, raw anger he has. Enough to be able to kill someone. Enough to feel nothing afterward.
But the pool of water doesn't remain disturbed for long. His shoulders relax and posture droops. Vander isn't the one who did anything; this is just his opinion. He tips his chin in a small nod, accepting that is just what he thinks. ]
no subject
[ Henry doesn't have much of an answer to that statement. He wonders if he should add that the notes also appeared around his apartment. It seems like Joseph was trying to drop pieces of his research into the reality that Henry occupied. However, he couldn't give it all at once, for some reason.
However, if he had everything that Joseph knew, what would he be able to do with any of it?
He lets that question go because of what Vander says. His eyes unfocus. Henry has always been more of a pool of water - low energy, little expression or shifts of tone in his voice. He would rather run or seek an escape than fight.
However - however - he doesn't think it was those people's time. He doesn't believe they deserved the way that they died. Someone dragged them into a hellish, closed-off world and tortured them to death. Their last moments were in fear and pain. Because of some ritual. He barely understands what the ritual's goal would be. He just understands -- it wasn't fair.
Henry used to be angry about what was happening to him. It was a quiet frustration that burned in the back of his mind. But he wasn't an explosively volatile individual. It's why everything in his apartment remained in place and untouched; he wasn't the kind of person to grab a lamp and slam it against the wall to shatter it in helpless bitterness.
However, he is upset what happened to all those people. Some of them weren't innocent; some of them had done terrible things. But even then, it wasn't fair.
So, he stands - denouncing what is said in silence alone. His fists clenched and shaking; his eyes refocusing to quiet, raw anger he has. Enough to be able to kill someone. Enough to feel nothing afterward.
But the pool of water doesn't remain disturbed for long. His shoulders relax and posture droops. Vander isn't the one who did anything; this is just his opinion. He tips his chin in a small nod, accepting that is just what he thinks. ]
I guess.
[ Is what he says at last. ]