[ Ashes on the threshold. It's dramatic enough that John barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, slides Prior a sideways look and a loft of his eyebrows before turning his gaze back out over the floor -- watching the play of light as it changes.
Dreams are weird, John thinks. ]
Maybe.
[ Maybe it shouldn't be a rare thing. Is he telling himself that? God, this feels complicated to think about. ]
Do you feel wanted?
[ Is this answer just going to be if John thinks Prior feels wanted? He winces, slips his eyes up to Prior then away again. ]
Maybe that's a weird thing to ask.
[ Maybe anything you ask someone in a dream is just going to be weird when you realise you're talking to yourself. ]
no subject
Dreams are weird, John thinks. ]
Maybe.
[ Maybe it shouldn't be a rare thing. Is he telling himself that? God, this feels complicated to think about. ]
Do you feel wanted?
[ Is this answer just going to be if John thinks Prior feels wanted? He winces, slips his eyes up to Prior then away again. ]
Maybe that's a weird thing to ask.
[ Maybe anything you ask someone in a dream is just going to be weird when you realise you're talking to yourself. ]