I think a lot, but I don't talk much

Connor: Norris! How is the mine? Is there anything worth your time down there

Norris: Most definitely. Copper, Connor. And a healthy amount of it.

Connor: Excellent. I am glad. I have been meaning to ask, is Norris a common French name?

Norris: My real name is not Norris. It’s Maurice.

Connor: But you told me…

Norris: I did. When I arrived in Boston, people started calling me Norris and I got tired of correcting them all the time. Just before we met I had been talking with that lady in the pub, she said she liked my name “Norris”. I decided to stick with it.

Connor: Would you prefer I called you by your real name?

Norris: Nah. Everybody here knows me as Norris, Myriam included. Names can change but people stay the same, isn’t that right, Connor?

Summary:

It’s been too long since I’ve written something about Connor and Achilles, so I decided to remedy that. Plus I’ve been thinking about this particular idea for a while now. Inspired by this lovely but painful art piece: (x)

Why does he sleep like that,,,