Gentleman's Mailbox

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

...

Maybe he should have thought about it more before doing all this work.

At least it's the thought that counts, right? As long as the puppet doesn't mock him, his ego would probably be alright.

[Wish I was human. So by doing that it’d work out better. I really wish I could try whatever you’re making.]

The puppet's confession made him both sad and proud. A selfish pride in his action couldn't outweigh the melancholy of reality. If only he could help him.

Henry wasn't fit to help people anyway.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

...

Maybe he should have thought about it more before doing all this work.

At least it's the thought that counts, right? As long as the puppet doesn't mock him, his ego would probably be alright.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

...

Maybe he should have thought about it more before doing all this work.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"

After placing it down on the bed, he sat back down pushed it slightly towards the puppet.

[He just sat there for a second, before looking through the box. the books weren’t very dusty, per se, but it was very clear they had been sitting there for a while. He found one, a one on trains, and he picked it up.]

Um. . I. .

"Seems like you got your love for trains from your blueprint huh?"

He leaned back into his seat and patted the spot next to him.

[I donno, they just are cool. That’s all I feel I can say.

How many times had he thought of leaving it all behind, get on a train and never look back? Oh how he had wished to enter an uncaring machine full of uncaring strangers hoping to not be recognized. The world outside his window would be beautiful but unreachable, places he'd never get to go see and he'd simply wait, wait until he'd grow bored or until something took him away. Henry was a man of thrills, but he could still long for a quiet peace.

Yet, tonight, the silence had been loud and the voice of the puppet breaking it was comforting.

Henry didn't want to be alone again.

He picked up the book and started to read it to him. At first, by instinct, his voice shifted to his pleasant, marketable one, the one from tv shows and meetings. It didn't feel right though, didn't feel honest. So, before he knew it, he wasn't talking as the Gentleman, but as Henry.

Carefully, he put down the book on the night stand. Any sudden movement might put him out of his half asleep haze, which was the last thing Henry wanted.

"Good night dear."

He seemed peaceful. Henry never thought he'd be woken up by a child who had a nightmare. Especially not one who looked like him

Carefully, he got out of the bed and tip toed to the bathroom, where he brushed his teeth and washed his face. He wasn't sure when he'd have to wake up the kid, or how long he'd stay. Henry wasn't used to this.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"

After placing it down on the bed, he sat back down pushed it slightly towards the puppet.

[He just sat there for a second, before looking through the box. the books weren’t very dusty, per se, but it was very clear they had been sitting there for a while. He found one, a one on trains, and he picked it up.]

Um. . I. .

"Seems like you got your love for trains from your blueprint huh?"

He leaned back into his seat and patted the spot next to him.

[I donno, they just are cool. That’s all I feel I can say.

How many times had he thought of leaving it all behind, get on a train and never look back? Oh how he had wished to enter an uncaring machine full of uncaring strangers hoping to not be recognized. The world outside his window would be beautiful but unreachable, places he'd never get to go see and he'd simply wait, wait until he'd grow bored or until something took him away. Henry was a man of thrills, but he could still long for a quiet peace.

Yet, tonight, the silence had been loud and the voice of the puppet breaking it was comforting.

Henry didn't want to be alone again.

He picked up the book and started to read it to him. At first, by instinct, his voice shifted to his pleasant, marketable one, the one from tv shows and meetings. It didn't feel right though, didn't feel honest. So, before he knew it, he wasn't talking as the Gentleman, but as Henry.

Carefully, he put down the book on the night stand. Any sudden movement might put him out of his half asleep haze, which was the last thing Henry wanted.

"Good night dear."

what is this.

Well!

Our eyes were just so so 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁, they just 𝖍𝖆𝖉 to hide them! ⋆˚꩜｡

But serious, that's... uhm.... Hm....

Look kid, sometimes grown ups make mistakes that make the higher ups unhappy. I will admit, your host has done some mischievous things, but right now, the higher ups are really really unhappy. That's all I'll say.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"

After placing it down on the bed, he sat back down pushed it slightly towards the puppet.

[He just sat there for a second, before looking through the box. the books weren’t very dusty, per se, but it was very clear they had been sitting there for a while. He found one, a one on trains, and he picked it up.]

Um. . I. .

"Seems like you got your love for trains from your blueprint huh?"

He leaned back into his seat and patted the spot next to him.

[I donno, they just are cool. That’s all I feel I can say.

How many times had he thought of leaving it all behind, get on a train and never look back? Oh how he had wished to enter an uncaring machine full of uncaring strangers hoping to not be recognized. The world outside his window would be beautiful but unreachable, places he'd never get to go see and he'd simply wait, wait until he'd grow bored or until something took him away. Henry was a man of thrills, but he could still long for a quiet peace.

Yet, tonight, the silence had been loud and the voice of the puppet breaking it was comforting.

Henry didn't want to be alone again.

He picked up the book and started to read it to him. At first, by instinct, his voice shifted to his pleasant, marketable one, the one from tv shows and meetings. It didn't feel right though, didn't feel honest. So, before he knew it, he wasn't talking as the Gentleman, but as Henry.

Carefully, he put down the book on the night stand. Any sudden movement might put him out of his half asleep haze, which was the last thing Henry wanted.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"

After placing it down on the bed, he sat back down pushed it slightly towards the puppet.

[He just sat there for a second, before looking through the box. the books weren’t very dusty, per se, but it was very clear they had been sitting there for a while. He found one, a one on trains, and he picked it up.]

Um. . I. .

"Seems like you got your love for trains from your blueprint huh?"

He leaned back into his seat and patted the spot next to him.

[I donno, they just are cool. That’s all I feel I can say.

How many times had he thought of leaving it all behind, get on a train and never look back? Oh how he had wished to enter an uncaring machine full of uncaring strangers hoping to not be recognized. The world outside his window would be beautiful but unreachable, places he'd never get to go see and he'd simply wait, wait until he'd grow bored or until something took him away. Henry was a man of thrills, but he could still long for a quiet peace.

Yet, tonight, the silence had been loud and the voice of the puppet breaking it was comforting.

Henry didn't want to be alone again.

He picked up the book and started to read it to him. At first, by instinct, his voice shifted to his pleasant, marketable one, the one from tv shows and meetings. It didn't feel right though, didn't feel honest. So, before he knew it, he wasn't talking as the Gentleman, but as Henry.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"

After placing it down on the bed, he sat back down pushed it slightly towards the puppet.

[He just sat there for a second, before looking through the box. the books weren’t very dusty, per se, but it was very clear they had been sitting there for a while. He found one, a one on trains, and he picked it up.]

Um. . I. .

"Seems like you got your love for trains from your blueprint huh?"

He leaned back into his seat and patted the spot next to him.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"

After placing it down on the bed, he sat back down pushed it slightly towards the puppet.

Where’s the exit this time?

[he came up to henry, asking the question, with little regard for how his voice could barely be heard between the static and quietness of him. as tears ran down his face, it became apparent he didn’t care.]

[@the-castle-gentleman]

Supervising. That's what they told him to do tonight. Just watch. And oh how boring it was. The same old thing but with a worse view from backstage. What had happened wouldn't matter tomorrow anyway.

Leaving was his first priority, getting wasted or worse was his second. Not... This. Not babysitting a puppet with his face. His worry confused Henry. Shouldn't he know already that his mama would come back? Either way, the boy had already spotted him, he couldn't leave now.

"I... This place is a bit of a maze, how about I show you?"

I. . I just wanna go home- and- and I want mama to be there.

The panic in his plastic eyes was apparent, almost uncannily so. He had seen people with less expressive eyes.

The thought of taking his hand crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

can. . Can you pick me up? I don’t wanna get lost.

[Even with Henry guiding him, he felt that it was hard to keep his pace.]

As they headed towards the exit, his words seemed to make a bit more sense to Henry. Seeing someone you love die again and again probably wasn't the most tempting thing. Yet, after a while, shouldn't he get used to it?

"I see..."

What could he say? The only thing they shared was a name. He'd never truly understand the boy.

Tonight, his only plan was to go home and smoke a bit, take the edge off. Perhaps call an old friend or two. He didn't like when his plans were interrupted, but Henry couldn't refuse the puppet anything. He wasn't sure why. He just couldn't. Something about these expressive eyes perhaps.

[He appreciated Henry's willingness to help him so much. he couldn't really express himself properly, he couldn't. . not right now, at least. Everything that was coursing through his mind made it hard to express himself. ]

"What exactly don't you like about them?"

Finally, they had reached the back exit. The fresh air hit them both like a truck before quickly adjusting to a more comfortable refreshing breeze. Perhaps he should have brought a coat.

[silence for a couple seconds.]

Henry would like to protest, but he couldn't blame him.

"You can't change who you are dear, trust me I've tried. Draag won't let you."

Draag won't let me.

[I can’t change either. I just wish I had a chance. .]

[there were exceptions to this. Of course there were. It always took longer on weeks where they died before the shows- those were always the worst weeks. He shivered.]

Henry got back on his feet and headed towards the street. He wasn't sure why he was so quick to accept this, unusually determined to make sure the puppet was alright. No matter how much he tried not to care, he always ended up like this.

Soon enough, he flagged down a taxi and got inside. Henry gave the driver their destination and leaned back into his seat. He did not dare say a word. After all, a talking puppet wasn't the most usual thing.

Outside, the city lights passed in a dim blur. Perhaps it was the speed, perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps this was how it felt to go home after a long day out at an aunt's house, dizzy against the car window with a stuff animal in one's arm. Of course, Henry wasn't holding an inanimate being made of plush, but a young boy. At least, what was supposed to be one.

The Gentleman would never get to be a real boy, just like Henry would never get to have a real past.

Before he knew it, they were in front of the apartment building. He payed the driver, unsure of the amount in his hand but most likely more than enough, and got out. The cold air hit him hard, the nighttime of Draag at its usual lows.

They entered the building, got in the elevator, walked down the hall. Nothing worth describing, nothing worth remembering. Most of Henry's memories in this place weren't the best anyway.

Without putting down the puppet, the actor looked through his pocket for his set of keys and unlocked the plain door in front of him. For once, his hands weren't shaking as he did so.

Finally, here they were. Home. At least, Henry's home. A modest apartment that was awfully messy for such a fancy man. Lazily, he put down his clone and picked up anything too personal that he wouldn't want a teenager to see. The various items, from magazines to small bottles, were promptly shoved into a closet.

. . When they got to Henry’s apartment, he didn’t really care about what his clone was doing. He familiarised himself with the room decently well, then after that he looked out the window- trying to identify where they were by the street below. Unfortunately for him, all of dragred looked the same. He looked back at Henry.]

Maybe one day I could have a son.

The idea was quickly pushed back in the corner of his mind. Such foolish dreams didn't deserve attention if they'd never come true.

"We're in upper Dragred. We did chat for a bit outside and the car ride wasn't the shortest so yeah, it's pretty late."

The makeshift bed on the couch was made as he spoke.

[Of course he loved the daytime, especially when it was not foggy- it was nice in the infinite greys of Draag. Of MOAT. He went over to Henry. He seemed temporarily confused by the pillow and blanket. For him? He was so used to just sleeping wherever.]

. . .

But this felt different. This wasn't like the usual shy or down on his luck kid, this felt all too real. This was something of which he'd directly impact the ending. This was... Him.

Not exactly him, but a child with his face. A child who needed him.

His heart ached at the question.

[With that he got under the blanket and curled up. The exhaustion from the day just made him ready to sleep, even if the unfamiliar environment was uncomforting.]

Henry couldn't bring himself to call him by his name. By their name.

The puppet looked so fragile like this. He considered tucking him in but decided against it.

Better not get attached.

And so, Henry turned off the light, got changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. The fluorescent light of the bathroom made him squint, eyes focused on the smudged mirror in front of him. It had never really occurred to him that they looked so similar.

The Gentleman felt like spitting more than just toothpaste in the sink.

-He knew he always had nightmares, but it doesn’t make them easier. When he woke up in tears, he tried his best to calm himself, but despite that, he knew what his next move would be- to wake henry (despite how terrifying that is). So here he was, gently shaking him awake.]

The young boy.

Oh what time was it?

Poor thing.

Even with the darkness hiding the tears, Henry could guess them from the shakiness of the word. He sat up, turned towards the puppet.

The show host had never done such a thing before.

I had a bad dream.

[He barely whispered it- made hard to hear by the static in his voice- but the quietness of the room made it easier to tell what he was saying.]

I’m scared

Henry opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again. No better than a fish in both use and speech.

"Do you.... Want to stay here?"

"Sure, kid. What kind of person would kick someone who just had a nightmare out of their room? The least I can do is comfort you"

[He hugged Henry tightly, unable to stop himself from crying more once he had done such. He was terrified. Maybe it wasn’t real, but that didn’t change the fact that It felt real for a bit.]

"Hey... It's okay, there's no fire here. You're safe. There's no fire, I promise."

After a bit of hesitation, he placed a hand on the puppet's back.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to care.

"Do you... want me to read you a book?"