Quote: "To watch is not to love." -Jung
In his normal spot along the wall of the safe house, Jack's gaze was absentmindedly fixated on the girls' drawings that covered the colorful table, the papers scattered along the area with crayon marks all over them. He wondered many things at this sitting spot, the old and worn mattress he had woken up from all those weeks ago.
On the rare moments like this that he had time to himself to just sit and think, contemplations stirred.
He saved them, at least eight so far, but did he do this just because Tenenbaum asked? Had he actually managed to care for theses children as a parental figure, or was he just pitying them for the comparable lives they lead? His expression hardened into a sour look, his legs crossing on the bed as a form of closing himself off to the rest of the welcoming room.
Eyes now examined his wrists, the black chain links that branded him. A man? A slave? Just who did he really answer to?
He broke his stare to glance over at the table once more, only to see one of the girls standing in front of him with a sheet of paper in hand. A small smile spread along her face as she turned the page over, a crayon version of Jack and holding the hand of one of the Little Sisters.
Maybe he still needed time to think, but over-thinking was becoming his master as well.