YOURS SINCERELY.

BETWEEN THE DARK COLORS that make up his outfit  ,  and the way the shadow of his hat masks his face  ,  one would think that The Spine fit right into Luctenmire. In fact  ,  he’s had a few denizens wave to him or engage in polite conversation as he passed by  ─  which was something he really wasn’t used to. The assimilation  ,  the way they welcomed him without batting an eye  ,  it really was all rather strange.

All that to say, he's already tense being here. The hissing noise causes him to jolt, turning around quick as a whip to see what it could be - and they look human. Thank god. He isn't sure what he would've done if it was one of the beasts mentioned. He relaxes minimally, but still looks.. wary.

THERE WAS A PART OF HIM THAT WAS SURPRISED not to hear the voice trying to determine every little thing he did when he first arrived. It was awfully quiet , save for the man who welcomed him here. He would be lying if he said he had gotten used to the Narrator's absence , used to not having a voice in his ear no matter what he was doing , accompanying him every waking moment. Now , however , everything was different. Not only could he see the Narrator in front of him , the man was tangible. No longer was he only a voice , he was . . real. Realer than ever.

' IT WAS GOOD. THANKS FOR ASKING. ' It almost tasted like another one. But he was kind of out of a job ( and actually has a need for money now . . . ) so he should probably save what little he currently had. The shift in his expression made Stanley's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

HE HAS TO THINK ABOUT IT FOR A MOMENT. Lips tug into a frown as he recalls his last moments before arriving , the height , the voice in his ears pleading for him to stop ,

the crunch.

He must've forgotten to breath at least five times by now.

Either way he watches Stanleys expression carefully, noting the frown... and.. he fell. He fell? Well, he supposes he does fall quite often - he isn't the most coordinated person by any means. But he swore Stanley was right in front of him before, how the hell could he have fallen in all that time, he was watching him just stand there! He hadn't even blinked! He looks confused by the news, but.. he doesn't elaborate on why, or question it much further. He doesn't want to remind him of the affair; he'd much rather forget it himself, and.. he doesn't want him getting any ideas. On ignoring him. Remembering all the reasons why he decided to skip him in the first place. So, for once, he'll leave it. Mostly.

If there was any doubt in Irving's mind that this is all some sick joke, some further punishment ( death would have been too much of a mercy, in Lumon's eyes ), that doubt is banished the second he steps foot into Glacier's Peak, grey skies and ice and snow. It's fitting, he'll give them that; sending him back to Woe's Hollow to work the rest of his days. He stands in front of the suspiciously house-shaped building he's been directed to ( he double-checked the key many times to be sure, thank you ), closing his hands into fists and then reopening them. Whatever he finds in there, whoever he's working with—

But it's empty.

Well, not empty empty. It's furnished. Extravagantly so, in fact. There's an office with just one desk and shelves and shelves of books ( manuals? some new guidance from Kier he's meant to follow, as though there weren't already enough? ) and a kitchen with a stove and there's beds. It's all very, you know, long-term arrangement-like. Dread starts to sink in.

He steps back outside in a hurry, looks left, then right. Next door a man is stepping out onto a porch very similar to his own and Irving rushes to him, pointing over his shoulder at his own office space. House. Whatever it is they're calling it.

"I think they intend to make us stay - or at least try to. The houses certainly make it seem that way, and I haven't come up with an idea on how to leave yet. I'm not very excited about it either, I can tell you that much - although.."

He looks around twice, just to check. Unsure what he'd be checking for, but the other just seems so worried about it, it's hard to not feel like it's some sort of forbidden secret.

[ hereandtheirin ] → BY THE MAKER WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAD NO BODY ?!

HIS TIME OF SOAKING IT IN WAS CUT SHORT as the voice rings out , one that he could never forget. But this time , instead of it surrounding him , it was directional. As the Narrator's voice got louder , Stanley turned his head in it's direction , eyebrows furrowing in confusion. That's not - that can't be.

THE FIRST THING HE DOES IS REACH OUT , setting his free hand on the other man's shoulder. Satisfied with ( and yet thoroughly confused by ) his findings , he lowers the hand and uses it to sign ' it's nice to see you. Actually see you. ' The quick shift from relief to disdain doesn't surprise him , but it does make him frown slightly.

Stanley's hand.

On his shoulder.

He didn't know he could do that.

There's been so much space between them this whole time, being so close is already a large change - it makes him feel smaller, as if he's suddenly less. He supposes he is now, isn't he? His gaze lingers on where his hand touches, and follow as it departs - it takes a moment for him to realize he's signing to him. Once he does, the morbid fascination snaps off his face and quickly becomes replaced with annoyance. As it should be.

"Really? You seem to be fitting in just fine already. Finally got that coffee you wanted so much - I hope it's good. Or. Was good, seeing at you just finished it."

A beat, as if debating if he should ask something.. before some of the spite fades from his voice, sounding cautiously curious.

[ hereandtheirin ] → More or less.

[ hereandtheirin ] → ...