Blake Warren

"It’s not all that hard." Harry smiled. “It just takes a little practice." Well shit. Here was something he could actually have a conversation about, and he was too nervous.

Blake's head tilted.  Well, he'd just told Harry about his dead best friend, so really Harry couldn't object to a few questions about his writing.  "So, you write a lot?"  Blake really hoped Harry wouldn't reply with "often but not a lot" again.  That was the most confusing fucking answer ever.

"Well, there’s this teenager, Eragon, who finds this weird blue rock in the mountains while he’s hunting. But it turns out the rock’s a dragon egg, and then the books are about all the adventures he and Saphira have and the bond they create while trying to fight Galbatorix,...

"I know," Blake said, grinning.  "All the things you can think up with magic.  It's magical.  Wonderful.  Beautiful.  I wish I had the talent to write something like that.  I mean, I can dream up things all day but I guess that's just a tad of escapism sneakin' out, because I can never write it down."

"I love The Lord of the Rings. The books, the movies. Beautiful story. And Middle Earth, that whole universe, it’s so intricate. All the languages and species and everything. Y’know, Christopher Paolini did that, too, with the Inheritance Cycle. Have you read it?" This was...

"Well, there's this teenager, Eragon, who finds this weird blue rock in the mountains while he's hunting.  But it turns out the rock's a dragon egg, and then the books are about all the adventures he and Saphira have and the bond they create while trying to fight Galbatorix, the evil emperor of Alagaesia."  Blake ran a hand through his hair.  "Too much late-night reading.  I can't stop looking for fantasy books, now.  I should review my psychology textbooks, but eh..."

Blake nodded, half to himself as the scalding water ran over his skin. “What’s your favorite…" Favorite what? What sorts of favorite did people have? “Movie?" There, he was feeling normal-er. Better. Distracted. He turned the faucet off and sat back down on the couch, throwing...

"I love The Lord of the Rings.  The books, the movies.  Beautiful story.  And Middle Earth, that whole universe, it's so intricate.  All the languages and species and everything.  Y'know, Christopher Paolini did that, too, with the Inheritance Cycle.  Have you read it?"  This was going well again.  The wheels were turning.  Books were safe and fun and easy to talk about.  Back on track.

"Um, well, yeah I guess." This was awkward. Blake was acting weird and Harry had no idea what to say.

Blake nodded, half to himself as the scalding water ran over his skin.  "What's your favorite..." Favorite what?  What sorts of favorite did people have?  "Movie?"  There, he was feeling normal-er.  Better.  Distracted.  He turned the faucet off and sat back down on the couch, throwing his arm over the back.

Yup. I may be cheerful, but it’s because I’m away from them. Oh, and they say I am a compulsive liar.

Ah, been there.  Except I wasn't put in a mental hospital.  You're awfully cheerful.  Any suicidal thoughts since that episode?