@closedcoffins | cont from here
Why, yes, Simon was drawn in by the man’s echoing ramblings, especially given the lack of a second voice. A person meandering alone through an at least somewhat vacuous space was worth looking into. Now that he is here, though, he is finding that it is not quite big enough, that the dingy concrete walls still stifle him. It would be so much easier if the room was sterile and white, not a speck of dust to break up the space. But as it stands, it is impossible to forget that this particular building is finite, crushingly so, and any plans for fun that he initially had have been cast out the proverbial window.
Thankfully, the gentleman has proven to be interesting enough on his own, though, and Simon finds himself nodding along with the explanation, greatly interested in seeing where this goes next.
“Oh, yes!” he agrees readily enough, even though he does not think that the man really cares all that much about his opinion one way or the other. Still, as long as he was asked, he will offer it, even if he expects it to be glossed swiftly over. “I do think that there are far too many rules in the world, most of which make no sense. I choose to ignore most of them myself. I think that you’ve got the right idea, only living by a rule or two at a time! Your rules, especially, are just delightful and the only ones you need, really.”
Simon does not actually care much about proving points, but he knows that it is a trait that a lot of other people admire, being able to put one’s money where there mouth is, as it were. He is fairly content to go through life without proving himself, but not everybody is that way. Breaking everything, though—oh, Simon likes that an awful lot.
“I can see you’re still walking about!” Simon says, nodding his approval, trying to look very impressed—because he is! “I’m a similar way, I like to drop people and watch them shatter. I, of course, am not able to shatter in that sort of way anymore, but them?” He makes a descending curve with his hand to represent a person going over the edge of a building and whistles to imitate the rushing wind, and then he claps the falling hand against his other. “Splat! It’s such great fun.” Simon is now thinking it was rather lucky that he sought the man out, as if it were anyone else with less of a stomach for murder, things might not have gone so well… for them.
“Ah, well, I certainly don’t want you dead! You’re quite a good storyteller, and you can’t tell me any more stories if you’re deceased. I’m not much of a medic,” he confesses, tapping his chin with his finger, “so I don’t know how much I can do in the realm of helping you get well again, but… yes. Yes, I would like to see you well again, in any case.”
