There's a few pros, Absinthe reasons, to being relatively poor at social interactions outside the church- and it's that he's managed to spend much of the night people-watching. There are downsides, as well, those rearing their ugly heads around the time the monsters outside tear young Tyler to pieces. Absinthe wants to offer his comfort to others- to step back into the role of that capable priest- someone with words of comfort- that Tyler lived well, and he's in pain no longer- somewhere better, wherever his religion may have placed him.
Fear and trauma strike his tongue dumb. Screams he remembers all too well for an amnesiac, a chorus outside the door of a house he's never been in as he bites a hole in his hand- scrawls the symbol tattooed on his body on the door in front of him. he traces the four puncture holes in the space between his thumb and forefinger- jumping nearly three feet in the air when a hand settles on his shoulder. "Fuck me running- Oh. Matt." he manages, swallowing tightly. "Did. did you need something? Sorry I- I spaced out, for a minute there."
@wanderinglcst
