alexander arnault

Location: Devinstone Medical Center

Time: A week or so ago

Tagged: @alexanderarnault​

Status: Closed

              Claudia bit into the apple in her hand as she scrolled through her phone for the surgery schedule for the day. Next up, Bethany Lambert. She made her way to the nurse’s station to double-check her charts as she always does with all her patients. “Dr. James!” A voice exclaims, panting. She turns to see greet the owner, “Dr. Murphy, I paged you 911 almost ten minutes ago… your patient should be dead by now.” “I was in the restroom…” Claudia stopped in her tracks and looked at her resident, unsure if this was a joke or not. A mumbled apology was enough for her to overlook this statement, at this moment she had more important things to do. “Update me on the patient.” She continues to walk to her destination, listening to the changes in the chart that she would have verified herself in some moments. But she freezes before she can reach the nurse’s station. 

Alexander Arnault. What the hell was he doing here? No, no, no… This can’t be. Not like this. She wasn’t ready for this right now. “Dr. James?” She snaps out of her daze at the sound of her name. And he spotted her. Fuck. She proceeds to make her way over to the patient files, overlooking her former flame. She didn’t really want to interact; searching through the files as a way to avoid what was inevitable. “Where’s the file for Bethany?” She looks up at the nurse, who currently, was preoccupied with swooning over Alexander.

The coffee in the station was abysmal, but then again - would it really be workplace coffee if it wasn’t? Besides, he’d prefer to get to know some more colleagues on his break anyway, especially this week. Every time he’d forgotten it for a moment, he suddenly remembered that this was the week he was supposed to get married. He’d been dreading this week, this day, for weeks now, but this morning he’d decided to not let him bother it. He’d spent yesterday cooped up inside, wallowing in self pity, today would be different. And - what better way to make today different than flirt a little? Even if none of it meant anything, even if he had no intention of taking it any further than just a flirty conversation, he’d have at least had that.

“Yeah, I spent two years with doctors without borders - one of the best times of my life,” he said warmly, taking out his phone to show the nurse a picture just for good measure. He was still glancing at it when he heard a voice he’d recognize everywhere, and even though he did, it took him a few seconds to finally look up and face her. Claud. He hadn’t heard that voice in years. When he looked at her, all he could do was push away from the counter to stand up straight and tilted his head sideways as if to say you here? though that didn’t say nearly enough and it said too much at the same time. “Claudia?” he finally said on an exhale, the nurse instantly forgotten. 

“ -- Hi.”

Despite the fact that it was six AM on a Saturday morning, Alex whistled as he threw his jacket on the passenger seat of his convertible and got in the car. There was a chill in the air, and while it was cold on his bare legs, there was no way he’d wear long pants mid-April. He’d always been a shorts kind of guy. Thank god he’d been sensible enough to throw on a sweater, though, because it’d take a good ten minutes for the car to heat up enough to be comfortable.

He’d needed this. A day out, away from his new life, something completely out there. And, he’d seen that Rupert had needed it to. A nice road-trip. Alex had contemplated asking Dalton to come along, but he knew better than to want for his brother to be up and bright so early in the morning, and the idea of just getting Rupert out of that town had been appealing enough in itself. Even if he couldn’t really pinpoint it yet, he subconsciously knew the boy was in need of salvation.

Opting not to wake the house, Alex merely texted the other once he’d made his way to the start of the driveway, and thought he’d give Roo a good five minutes to get to him before he’d call.  And so, to pass the time, he turned up the volume of the music, hotel california blasting through the speakers because .. well, it seemed appropriate. He always got lost in the song, so he didn’t really know how long it took Rupert to make his way outside, but once he did, he smiled brightly and leaned over to open the door before Roo got to it.

“All right bud, you ready?” he asked once the other had finally gotten into the car, turning down the volume enough to speak over it. 

          Exiting the coffee house, warm latte keeping the palm of her hand cozy as the dreading wind started to pick up again. Pulling her jacket closer to her body, she turned the corner in a quick motion but stopping dead on her tracks when she began to hear the conversation at hand. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, nor did she mean to stare, but her whole body froze as she heard the words directed to the end of a wedding. The note left behind flashed in her mind, her whole stomach twisting uncomfortably in her stomach as she felt as though she was being thrown back into her past. She was over it, or at least as much as she could be, it had been a few months since the cancellation of her own wedding but still the explanation being withheld as her finance was nowhere to be found. Bexley was never one to chase, especially when she was the one who had to deal with all the cancellations; anger was subdued, to this day, something that annoyed many of her friends.

           “ Sorry, ” she said quietly before pushing hair out of her face. “ That’s —- quite a lot, I do hope you get some of it back, though. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, wasn’t polite of me. ”

Alexander was a man of science, rationality and tactility. And yet, despite knowing nothing of the woman who was speaking, there was some type of bond between them, like their bodies somehow radiated i was supposed to get married - and then i wasn’t. None of this registered consciously, of course, he just looked at her because she’d spoken up. But something made him step closer, and once he’d tucked away his phone he smiled apologetically. “Not much eavesdropping with that much decibels,” he told her, knowing full well he’d had to practically shout to be heard over the phone. He wished he could’ve done this at home -- in the privacy of his own place, but at least the hotel had been kind enough to check up on their two lovebirds. It had been a stab to the chest, but they couldn’t have known that. “It’s okay, really -- I’ll be happy if it’s handled, money back or not.” It was a lot of money, but nothing that would seriously put a dent in his finances. Thank you, trust fund. 

“It was a mutual decision, by the way. Not getting married,” he added, somehow feeling the need to explain that neither he nor Lena left the other at the wedding. It was ridiculous, because he didn’t know who the woman was, but it still felt good to clarify. “Just -- wanted to put that out there.”

The girl was taken aback by his response, to say the least. She’d been expecting there to be a medical emergency or some street performer be about to drop a sweet cover and get famous, and end up on some talk-show or another. Ronnie visibly rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Magic tricks.” She exhaled. She hated, no, loathed magic tricks and anything to do with magic, clowns, balloons - those things associated with kids’ birthday parties. She glanced up at the doctor beside her and gave a slight shrug, “He starts with the magic tricks, I’m outta here. Wait, seven minutes? Maybe he’s some contemporary artist, and this is his performance?”

"God - I hope not." Not that he was so fond of magic, but he preferred it over contemporary street art any day. He never got it, always felt like it was just weird. "Honestly, whatever his plan is, he should get to it soon, the crowd is getting antsy." Then, smirking at his own statement, he added, "I'm getting antsy. Should've gone for decaf." Still, he raised the paper cup to his lips and took another sip, making no attempt to leave. Unless it really was a contemporary art installment, he wanted to know what he'd wasted seven minutes of his life on. "So if you could choose, magic or performance art, which would you choose?"

Audrey had left work, forgetting she had decided to walk today. It had been a long day and the entire concept of not driving had flew out of her brain. The raven hair woman spited herself for trying to trick herself into exercising. Well, her plan had work, because like it or not she was walking home. As she got closer to town, she couldn’t help but see the tall, familiar man yelling into his phone. Alexander Arnault was another walk of life. As she listened to the number slip from his mouth it reassure that idea for her. Unlike most people who went to Harvard, Audrey didn’t have a penny to her name. She was skating by on loads of scholarships. When the phone call ended, she let out a small chuckle unsure of what else to do. “Alex.” She said in loo of a hello. “Sorry to hear the wedding is cancelled.” The truth was she was always closer to his ex from college than she was to him, but she did enjoy him. “Long time no see.”

He hadn’t heard that voice in a long time, and it transformed him right back to the coffee shop where they used to hang out, him and Claudia with a group of others, Audrey included. He turned around to face her fully, the phone call momentarily forgotten, and smiled brightly as he took her in. “Audrey,” he said, dipping his head. Then, at her comment, he let out a sigh and looked across the street before glancing back towards her. “Yeah - thanks. It’s fine,” he told her. He doubted she knew about Lena, it’s not like they’d stayed in touch after school, but it wasn’t the time nor the place for a monologue. “Jesus, it has been long. Uh - how are you? I didn’t know you lived here - well, do you live here? Or are you just visiting?” It was strange to feel how something so small, meeting an old friend, could bring back such strong memories. He could almost taste his signature cup of Americano. And Claudia. He could almost hear her light laughter just by looking at Audrey. He felt twenty-four again.

location: the park

with: @alexanderarnault​

hamilton starters: “take a break. ” 

“And do what instead?” Emily asked, quirking a brow as she looked up Alexander after she heard his question. She had been sitting on a blanket under her favorite tree for about an hour or so, quietly getting work done while Gemma played with her rock-a-stack toy. She was thankful for the pleasant weather, because she had been dying to get outside for some fresh air after being cooped up during the winter. She hadn’t expected anyone to approach her, which was why she was slightly surprised Alexander had. “These assignments aren’t going to grade themselves. I’ve gotten so far behind.” 

While she spoke, he knelt down next to the little girl and patted her head, a casual hey supergirl falling from his lips with a smile before he focused on Emily again. “Soak up the sun, eat some ice cream, play with your daughter,” he offered with a smile, standing up tall again and placing his hands on his hips. Alexander loved the sun, he'd spend every minute outside if he could, so the second the weather allowed it, you found him changing the treadmill for the park. "One hour won't do much damage, you work too much," he then added, with the authority of a doctor, nodding along.

“I’m still growing into my talent.” Tess confessed, “So don’t have too much confidence in me.” She slipped him a welcoming smile, “Well welcome to Devinstone.” Tess was always curious as to what or why people would want to move to their small town. All her life, growing up, she wanted to get out, experience big cities. But, the farthest she got was Boston University, and then she came running back home. Her curiosity got the best of her, and with her job, she liked to stay informed of newcomers, “What made you move here? It isn’t exactly a common place to move to.”

It was a question he’d expected, one he’d been asked before - but still hadn’t found a satisfying answer to. It seemed dishonest to say he just needed a change of scenery, but it was far too intimate to tell someone the reason for this need just out of the blue. “Uh - some plans didn’t pan out. I thought I could use the opportunity to change some things around. Try new things, search for new horizons, all of that.” Then, noticing the badge, he pointed at it for a second and then crossed his arms. “Law enforcement? Wow, this is starting to feel like my personal welcoming committee.”

It wasn’t as though she wanted to eavesdrop on what was already a distressing conversation without the dumb-fuckery of the miscommunication, but in her defence, the man sat the table over was making it difficult. Divya sat in silence, wincing to herself.

“And at least triple that in brain cells…”

Even though she didn’t want to assume too much–maybe the honeymoon in question wasn’t even his–she couldn’t help but sense a tension that suggested it probably was. Tragic waste of money aside, the demise of a relationship was painful. Shit like that was just life’s way of rubbing even more salt into the wound. The brunette pouted slightly, before fishing something out of her bag, and turning back to him.

“Cupcake?” Lowering her voice, she leaned across the small divide between them and held it out. Even if he didn’t like cake, maybe the idea of some random psycho in a coffee shop smuggling him baked goods would at least make him laugh later. “I sneak them in from next door because the ones here are dry, so eat it covertly. Don’t mess up my system.” 

He’d heard something, a mumble, almost, but he’d still been too preoccupied with himself to really pay much attention to it. What he did hear, however, was her offer. It made him look up, glancing around the room, then looked down at the pastry in her hand before finally settling on the woman herself. He smiled, halfheartedly, but t was a smile nonetheless, and reached out to take the cupcake from her without saying much - careful not to mess up her system.

Once the transfer was complete, he kept it in his hand below the table and broke off a small part, only glancing up at her to mouth a quiet ‘thanks’ before taking a bite. It was good. 

“Sorry about that, by the way,” he then said, glancing down at his hands as he broke off another piece and carelessly looked around the room before eating the broken off part. “Not my best moment, right there.”

Winston couldn’t help but laugh. He shook his head, “You know that means that I would have like five very different existences?” Winston laughed again. He’d died too many times to count, his existence and personality reformed each and every time. That was maybe the life of an artist - or maybe that was just him. “For a guy who likes control, it’s interesting that you concern yourself with something that you literally cannot control. We’re all so much more than our  perceptions by random people who don’t give a fuck about us. At least, that’s how I think about it.” He paused and took a drink, and then looked at the man who he was calling his new friend. It was a long pause and then he finished, “You’re afraid. Of yourself. How can you love someone completely, fully, if you can’t even face the parts of yourself that are anxious and fearful? How do you know this is the worst you’ll ever feel, or the notions that you have are the worst until you test it?” 

Winston was a lot of things, fearless to a level of recklessness - he understood people who had self preservation, but sometimes there were things to learn from lack of preservation. And this came from Winston, who had a strained and pained smile on his face. He had his own brand of damaged, a shattered mirror that he’d hastily glued back together - the pieces reflecting back at him but the damages was present to everyone around him. Unable to overcome the damage, or fix himself in a way that was flawless, Winston changed the perception around the pain and jagged edges. “A weekend in Greece sounds exactly like your stereotype, Doc. I haven’t been there in ten years, but even for me then it was a little bland. Here’s a proposition, we can party, but you have to go along with what I want. It’ll be different, and I’ll even keep it tame for you.”

It may have sounded ridiculous, but Alexander was still intrigued by the idea that their own existence was shaped not by themselves, but by how they were perceived. If that were true, how could anyone know who they really were? How could anyone ever truly act, be real? “You can’t seriously say you don’t care what people think about you. I mean - look at you.” The statement was said without an inkling of judgment, but a clear opinion laced within. The coolness, the smugness that oozed from the other - it had to be a facade. A show. Right? “You don’t know what I’m afraid of,” he said, suddenly defensive, as if they weren’t discussing the essence of their existence just a few seconds ago. But maybe it had hit him wrong, because he thought if that was part of the reason he and Lena hadn’t worked out, he’d feel like he hadn’t tried his hardest to make it work.

Three months ago, he’d have listened to the other’s preposition and said no to it before he’d even finished speaking. Alexander was not the type of person to party with some stranger and just go along with things. Even in college, he’d always been the host. People had always been drawn to him, he was always the one with the itinerary. But wasn’t everything different now? And hadn’t he come here to start over, so to speak? Find his ground? Maybe something new was what he needed. “You won’t mug me?” he said, head cocked to the side, and though he was joking, the underlying message was clear. Is it safe?

Dom’s eyes couldn’t help but widen with each sentence that slipped past the males lips. For one, she was damn envious before she could have used a trip right now. However, it sounded sad that he had cancelled what seemed to be a damn honeymoon. Silently, the brunette awaited for him to finish before clearing her throat to look up at him. “So, I was eavesdropping and it was kind of hard not to, in my defence. But why on earth did you not pick a friend or another girl to go on this trip with? That being said, if your lover was a female or guy. Fuck, I would have gone with you just as friends.” Of course she had to interject that just because. “I mean, I’m sorry that it seems your wedding fell apart and all that. But that was probably a trip of a lifetime and if it was already paid! I say you call her back.”

He knew he’d been loud. He hadn’t intended to - but what other choice had there been? So, as the woman spoke, he couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. And honestly - he probably should’ve gone. Taken a friend. Or given the trip to a friend, even. But all of that had seemed wrong. “Yeah, no, I ..” he started, not sure how much detail to offer a complete stranger. “I kind of catered it specifically to us. You know - activities with inside jokes, dinners with our favorite foods. The whole thing was a billboard about the two of us. Giving it away seemed too intimate, and personally I wasn’t really looking forward to being reminded of my ex-fiancee the whole trip long.” Another sigh fell from his lips, he shook his head, and then glanced over to her with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, there’ll be better trips.” It sounded more like a resolution to himself than a reassurance to her. “But uh - I’m sorry though. That was not my most subtle moment.”

His knowledge of Lena is decidedly limited, consisting of fragments of gossip he’s managed to assemble into a semblance of the truth. He knows enough to tread delicately, at least. Roo isn’t known for his subtlety – quite the contrary – but he’s hesitant to broach the subject of Lena with Alex; he’s of the opinion that it simply isn’t his place, that any attempts to console or offer unsolicited advice would be absurd. He knows nothing about that kind of heartbreak. He likes to believe he has the monopoly on grief, that he’s the only person to have been let down by the world and its inhabitants, but he isn’t. People like Alexander have been dealt more than their own fair share of pain.

Besides, suffering isn’t a competition. Rupert would do well to remember that.

“Good. ‘Cause I wouldn’t be okay if you weren’t okay. I’d be ready to throw hands.” They’re laughably bold claims to come from a tiny human; he has the physical prowess of a soufflé. Successfully throwing hands isn’t in Roo’s repertoire. Mindlessly running his mouth and then hiding behind someone bigger when things get serious? That’s more his style.

In the grand scheme of things, driving away from his problems probably isn’t the wisest course of action, but it’s a seductive notion. A car journey with no proper destination. Open windows and good music. Milkshakes and fries and something – something – other than the mindless monotony of his life. Once again, Alex has known what he needs before Roo himself knows. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Contrary to popular belief, he has some self-awareness. He’s acutely aware of his flaws, at least, of his own too-muchness. It takes a particular brand of human being to be able to stomach his company, but Alex is always so gentle with him, so thoughtful, so unfailingly good. Roo doesn’t deserve it, he’s sure of that, and the knowledge creates a bubble of suspicion. It’s difficult to take kindness at face value when people are usually only nice to you when they want something – a payout or a leg-up in the rough-and-tumble world of business. He almost wishes Alex would treat him the way everyone else does. It would be easier on his heart. “Like, you’re always so good to me and it’s – it’s weird. Nobody is this nice to me. Not unless they want something.”

Alexander throws his head back and laughs, a real belly laugh, the action in stark contrast with both of their reserved responses just seconds earlier, and he closes his eyes and sighs before he leans against the sill and lets the end of his laugh simmer down. It wasn’t necessarily that funny, but the idea of someone like Roo, someone so tender, seemingly fragile, throwing hands with anyone, was enough to pull Alex back from the pits of his mind and Lena and it’s exactly what he needs right now. Maybe it’s not Alexander who takes care of Rupert; maybe it’s the other way around.

At the boy’s next question, any finality of laughter dies out quickly and he looks down at his own hands to think before he looks over to Rupert. He sighs, hates that he even has to ask the question, and instead of replying he simply stands up from where he’d been sitting and walks over to the closed door. So many people behind that door, so much intrigue, gossip, so much potential for pain. So many pitfalls. 

And when Alexander looks at Rupert, he sees an old friend, who started at Harvard with Alexander, both of them so fresh faced, and who was now somewhere in Greece, succumbed to the debaucherous lifestyle they could afford because it was easier than keeping the pressure at bay. Occasionally, he’d see pictures on social media, most of the time at various clandestine clubs, always with a drink in hand. Regularly with white powder in the background. They had been destined for greatness; he’d been so talented. Anything he read, he soaked up, anything he put his mind to, he mastered. Now, his greatest achievement seemed to be making it from the club to the beach before the night was over. Alexander had seen it happen once, and once was enough.

“Everyone deserves kindness in their life, Rupert. Lots of it, constantly. Consistently.” He looked at the other for a second, trying to see just how he’d respond if he continued talking, but then decided to say it anyway because if he was offended, at least he’d gotten it out there. “When the idea of kindness feels so foreign to you, you deserve it even more.” It’s a statement that carries weight. It’s a judgement of everyone in the room next doors, everyone in Rupert’s family. And Alexander feels a connection to Rupert, but they’re not that close yet - not on the level to be judging family, he doesn’t think.

“Most importantly,” he then cuts in, a lighter note just around the corner. “I want to be your friend. It’s fun to beat you in basketball.” He shrugged, carelessly, as his hand stroked the door frame, pretending to be interested in the coat of paint it was doused in, then finally settled on looking back over to Rupert. “So. Are you in or not? Six thirty, tomorrow morning. You and I, and my brilliant car.”

Henry didn’t take much into consideration as Alexander gave him a quiet response, taking it as a natural occurrence and preference of his son to not indulge in any drinking activities, after all, he was never one to drink much anyway. Henry knew he was probably drinking more than he normally would and that Alexander probably had figured out a thing or two, but as always, the boy just didn’t say anything as it was expected from an Arnault. His response was vague, didn’t give Alexander much of an answer and he knew the younger Arnault male realized that. But it was all Henry could give to his son instead of telling him all the truth there was.

“That is what happens when you move on, Alexander. Things change, it is part of life. You need to get used to it.” Too harsh? Probably. But Henry didn’t want his son to suffer over something that he could’ve had instead, he needed him to focus on his life, to move on. Perhaps be more colder than he was. “I understand that. But you need to move on, forget about what you two had, because it didn’t work and you need to be able to focus on the now.” Taking a long gulp of his drink, Henry kept his eyes on his son, blue hues watching intensely, trying to see any hint of a reaction from his son. 

“Do you want to be a man or her doormat? Let go, Alexander. She is obviously doing the same. If she didn’t call you, or tried to get in contact with you, you shouldn’t even bother.” Henry carried on, not caring much if he was hurting his son’s feelings right now. He needed him to toughen up. “What more closure do you need than what went through? It will just be you trying to live on something that didn’t happen. Just— let her go, Alexander.”

Alexander knew he was one of the lucky ones. His peers, at least those who were part of the upper social scene like him, they rarely had parents like Louise and Henry. -- Loving. Caring. Present. Taking an actual interest in their children’s lives, and allowing them to carve their own paths as they explore life. Many of his friends weren’t so lucky, many barely had a relationship with his parents. Alexander had always found solace with his, though.

He looked up to his father. He had always been a hero to him, an important man with an important job. And he could see - other people thought the same thing. He was respected, he commanded respect. He deserved it. Alexander had always strived to be like him. But still, with all that, it hurt to hear him say those words. Of course it hurt. Right now, everything that had to do with Lena hurt. He hoped it would pass someday, though the ache he felt right now could sometimes become so overwhelming it felt easier to let himself drown than to keep pushing up, back to the surface.

But his father was right. He needed to move on, and he couldn’t do that if he kept her in his life. He looked at the table, bore a hole through it with his gaze as he let the words sink in, and he nodded softly, thinking that if he tricked his body into agreeing wholeheartedly, it would ease the pain. 

Let her go, Alexander.

-- If only it was that easy, pop, he thought. Despite everything, he’d loved her dearly, and he’d worshiped what she’d represented. The potential of a future. “I’m always going to be the guy who got engaged but not married.” It was stupid to care about that, to choose that over all the other things that were wrong with this situation - but it was one he could focus on without breaking down. “God. I’m terrible company tonight. Sorry, pop, I shouldn’t spring this on you.”

“Not judging because of the sex. You have to hit a certain wall before this level of messy seems normal,” Zac said with a gesture to himself. “Judging only slightly because companionship that’s female is definitely something that’s good. Women… are fucking amazing. I went through a period when I was on leave where I went on like forty dates. Was it exhausting? Yes. Was it nice? Also yes. Mine was a little different. Delilah isn’t coming back, your lady still might.” Zac shrugged. While he would be able to effectively speak about the damage that Delilah’s death did to him, he could articulate her name and the realities around it that were not emotional. “However, I would suggest that what you need is some heavy metal and thrashing.”

“You’re not that bad, man,” Alexander said as he sat back down, casting down a knowing eye before reaching for his glass. “But -- I don’t know. I need more time.” Then, at the other’s next words, he nearly spilled some of his drink. “Forty? Jesus, Zac. That’s mental.” But he didn’t say more, because it felt insensitive to disagree. He knew what Zac meant of course, but even though Lena was very much alive, he knew, sure as the sun setting tonight, she was not coming back. And, despite his mopey mood, he didn’t really want her to, either. “Heavy metal and thrashing. Or - “ he then said, hopefully persuading the other to a gentler road, “how about just some food and a movie. I still have some leftover pizza I made yesterday.” He knew he should get out of his comfort zone, knew it’d be good for him. But the familiar felt so nice, and it required a strength he didn’t seem to possess to break through. 

Winston watched him with leveled gaze. Better than most at reading people, he watched the man before him battle with himself. Winston wondered what it was like to give a fuck about what people thought of you. Was there benefit to it? As in, did they treat you better if they thought they knew you? Winston had a hard time believing it - he’d found that the people who thought they knew about him treated him worse than those who came in with expecting him to be the worst already. Inclining his head, Winston replied, “Strippers usually. What did your best man have planned? My ideas involve a level of releasing control. And that means letting go of the shit you can’t control, like what other people think of you.”

“Well .. weekend in Greece,” Alexander said dryly. Expensive wedding, expensive bachelor’s party. And no strippers. “I think the strippers are mostly just a sitcom ploy, no?” He couldn’t imagine too many happy couples spending their ‘last days of freedom’ slipping one dollar bills down underwear and really believe marriage was a good fit for them. Let go of shit you can’t control, the other said, and Alexander envied that it seemed to be so simple for him. That was his whole issue though - he liked the control. Needed it, to be grounded in life. To feel his footing. And so, when someone pulled the rug right from under him, it took a while to regain his senses. “I’m not saying I only care what other people say about me. But a philosopher I read once said our existence is determined solely by how we’re perceived. Without that, we’re just ... not. Can’t say I agree completely - but it’s an interesting concept to think about, no?”