[ It's the familiarity of the form that has Neal slowing to a stop midway through the lobby, faltering in his step until he forgets where he'd been headed in the first place. He takes in the thin and determined hand pressed against a neck hidden by shoulder sweeping hair, the thin outline.
Then the writing on the wall visible just off to the left of his head, writing that has the furrow in Neal's brow burrowing a little deeper, confused and in disbelief. It can't be, he thinks, but it's gotta be, right? ]
They got paper, you know.
[ He speaks up finally, neutrally, studying the man before him intently for a reaction. ]
no subject
Then the writing on the wall visible just off to the left of his head, writing that has the furrow in Neal's brow burrowing a little deeper, confused and in disbelief. It can't be, he thinks, but it's gotta be, right? ]
They got paper, you know.
[ He speaks up finally, neutrally, studying the man before him intently for a reaction. ]