[ The horror movie bit is all fun and games until Eliot makes it very clear that it's not a bit. Which doesn't make sense for all the obvious reasons.
He'd call himself creative and adaptable. He'd venture that all the TV shows and movies and comics and video games in the world should smooth these ideas over somehow. But he's got a nice healthy fiction versus reality barrier.
Hardison frowns, looks off the path towards the trees, towards where the fog pulls up a few feet short for no apparent reason. Keeps trying to run the math like he expects to get all Neo on its ass and see the 1s and 0s and find where to tweak it to pull it all together. Keeps hitting the same exact wall he's been hitting because it doesn't work.
Eliot's been gone for a few days. Eliot was downstairs getting ready for the dinner crowd a few hours ago. Hardison woke up in the woods. He doesn't remember anything even a little weird happening between what he was doing and then. It's seamless. Haunted houses, invisible monsters, fog that puts things in your head, ravines at the end of winding paths that somehow even make him think about trying to jump for a second.
There's ways to maybe explain some of that, bits and pieces. Drugs or head trauma or special effects having a run on Eliot, maybe. On him now that he's out here, too. Whatever it might be. But just as much of it, there's no answer for at all. Suddenly the Spanish Flu and "standing on a pressure plate attached to a Claymore" incidents from a bit back are feeling comparatively way more grounded. ]
That doesn't happen. Like, the whole point of the movies is--
[ He makes some kind of a gesture. It doesn't really go anywhere. Much like the end of that sentence. The only emotional chill Hardison had was set aside specifically for Eliot. The rest of the time, Eliot and security are enough of an overlap that he feels comfortable not having more set aside for coping purposes. ]
Eliot, it doesn't happen. So if you wanna harness your chi or whatever and start learning how to punch reality back into shape right about now, you got my full moral support, brother. Because this is way the hell outta the hacker paygrade.
no subject
He'd call himself creative and adaptable. He'd venture that all the TV shows and movies and comics and video games in the world should smooth these ideas over somehow. But he's got a nice healthy fiction versus reality barrier.
Hardison frowns, looks off the path towards the trees, towards where the fog pulls up a few feet short for no apparent reason. Keeps trying to run the math like he expects to get all Neo on its ass and see the 1s and 0s and find where to tweak it to pull it all together. Keeps hitting the same exact wall he's been hitting because it doesn't work.
Eliot's been gone for a few days. Eliot was downstairs getting ready for the dinner crowd a few hours ago. Hardison woke up in the woods. He doesn't remember anything even a little weird happening between what he was doing and then. It's seamless. Haunted houses, invisible monsters, fog that puts things in your head, ravines at the end of winding paths that somehow even make him think about trying to jump for a second.
There's ways to maybe explain some of that, bits and pieces. Drugs or head trauma or special effects having a run on Eliot, maybe. On him now that he's out here, too. Whatever it might be. But just as much of it, there's no answer for at all. Suddenly the Spanish Flu and "standing on a pressure plate attached to a Claymore" incidents from a bit back are feeling comparatively way more grounded. ]
That doesn't happen. Like, the whole point of the movies is--
[ He makes some kind of a gesture. It doesn't really go anywhere. Much like the end of that sentence. The only emotional chill Hardison had was set aside specifically for Eliot. The rest of the time, Eliot and security are enough of an overlap that he feels comfortable not having more set aside for coping purposes. ]
Eliot, it doesn't happen. So if you wanna harness your chi or whatever and start learning how to punch reality back into shape right about now, you got my full moral support, brother. Because this is way the hell outta the hacker paygrade.