Hey, woah, are you alright?

          Though his more positive demeanor abruptly faded as he got the answer he’d been waiting for. In fact, his expression shifted from eager excitement to outright shock at those words.

          “ Eight…years? “

          Even after two, Wilson was beginning to feel a bit disgruntled, a bit upset, but he tried to keep going simply to prove to Maxwell and Charlie and Them and whoever else was trying to make his life hell that they wouldn’t take him down so easily.

          “ …Assuming you started off around my age, well…in our world, eight years would make you nearly forty… “

          Wilson stared up at his duplicate with a genuine worry. It certainly explained a lot of the rougher appearance of this alternate. He couldn’t fathom it–eight years of his life gone with no sign of escape…

          Though with a churning in his stomach, he supposed it was pretty reasonable.

          The night coming provided a welcome distraction as Wilson fished around in his backpack for a half-spent torch.

He allowed himself to smile with a slight melancholy, watching the younger man fish through his bag. It was kind of cute, in a way. To think back to the days where he had a torch out minutes before nightfall. Always prepared to take on the night... now-a-days, he just eased into it, only pulling out the torch if he needed to, keeping it tied to his belt loop and always knowing exactly where to reach to get it...

          But that didn’t explain the eye…

          On the question, a finger went to his chin and his eyes half-lidded in concentration.

        “Honestly, I’ve tried making calendars but the tick marks are more convenient and less... uh...” He thought about how he had tried to map out all the dates, but was effectively terrible at predicting the full moons in doing so.

         “...Well, let’s just say, I’m working on it,” he finalized, leaning on a large stick he had been planning to use for a cane.

        “Oh, me? It’s been uh...” The strange man looks off towards the trees, pursing his lips slightly and judging the size of the moon. It would be dark in a few moments but he didn’t seem too worried. After satisfying himself with his calculations, he rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and glanced down at the skin, looking at something as if it was a watch.

          “ I mean, I made it here thanks to my own intellect–our intellect, I suppose… ”

          He attempted to force a chuckle, though it quickly faded. What was wrong with this version of him? Wilson tilted his head to the side, a frown turning the corners of his lips down.

        The question--one that would normally make him pity himself--made him chuckle. Although, closing his eyes, and shaking his head briefly made his amusement clearly half-hearted.

         "A better question is, what hasn't happened to me?" The following laugh he gave under his breath was an attempt to cover up the dark undertones but it didn't seem successful. He made quick work to change the subject.