@dugpas // continued
There’s a loud SNORT. “Doppelganger! Oh, that’s a fun game you’re trying to get me to play, buddy boy.” It’s petulant commentary, as his Other goes onward with his drivel. It’s followed by another laugh at the command - which keeps going, and going, and he slaps his hands on his knees, and it keeps going, and he stands up, and it’s not a humorous laugh anymore. It ends with contempt cradled on his tongue, more of a cry. He kicks the chair he had woken from, and he’s angry because THIS SCENE is what he should be waking up from, not the other way around. “You pissant, I’ve spent blood, sweat, tears, and YEARS searching for answers, and you think you can just get them served to you on a silver platter? I know it would match the spoon in your filthy, boyish mouth, but I’m afraid you have the dynamics here miscalculated.”
Windom’s hands clutch behind his back, now staring his younger self straight on. “Now.” And he smiles again. It’s that same flavor of inappropriate for the situation, but that’s just him, isn’t it? He follows it with a slow shake of his head, and turns to start pacing. “See - see, that’s a damn hilarious thing you said just now, calling me a doppelganger. How about that. I think we have ourselves a bit of a pickle to eat our way out of, WINNIE. Last time I checked, I wasn’t a re-rendition.” Then he stops, snaps his head to look at the Other with squinted eyes and wrinkled nose. “Just how old are you supposed to be? Your hair is dark.”














