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Whichever way that the wind blows.
That's where I'll go. Can't think about tomorrow...
2015-10-26 01:55 am (UTC)
"And don't forget different versions of us," Jokester says, "who were, since the whole mess collapsed in on itself,
us. Simple version, I
being... well, not the guy you're having trouble with, but someone very very like him. Several times over, in fact. There are memories in my head that make me sick... and the idea that there's a version of that monster still running around
those things? Well, I really don't like that."
Harlequin just gives his hand a squeeze and leans close with her head on his shoulder.
Duela, meanwhile, seems to have had some kind of idea, because she's found a spot to sit down in the floor and pull some little bottles and other supplies out of her utility belt. And start mixing things together, like a kid playing Mad Chemist.
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