[Having gained her permission, her assertion that her physical examination of him is over, he reaches for his shirt, begins to dress. His actions are smooth and fluid, meticulous in their precision, attending to his appearance with a quiet and obvious care. Shirt, tie, cufflinks, jacket-- he says nothing as he reorders himself, smooths down his freshly donned clothes until he looks as sharp and flawless as he had just a short while before. The cruel glint of the collar, the savagery of his one enduring scar-- it's all tucked out of sight now, neatly hidden, reducing his appearance to something that could almost (almost) pass for normal. If one were to ignore his too-sharp teeth, the blood red glint of his eyes.
He looks back at her, once he's done. Smiles his uneven smile, and there's something in his expression then, a quiet refutation. You are not a dog she says, but he knows that this is untrue. Knows it down to the loamy centre of himself-- perhaps if she were to see him in a moment of unbridled violence, see the beast in him come to the fore, maybe then she'd understand that he's no more a man than a wolf is.
Or perhaps she'd see something else, something he's incapable of seeing in himself. It's impossible to know.]
I don't expect you to understand. I doubt anyone could, unless they're from down there.
[It's why he always knew that to leave would be impossible, no matter what Heine had done, no matter what Mother did to him. He's a product of that twisted place and the world outside could never be for him...only now he's been thrust into it quite against his will, and the weight of that fact presses heavy on him. He still doesn't believe he can survive it, out here on his own, with no-one to hold the leash.]
But I'm a dog, all right. Just a different breed from the sort you're thinking of. Hahah.
ack, words missing. he basically said removing the collar is the worst thing he can think of
He looks back at her, once he's done. Smiles his uneven smile, and there's something in his expression then, a quiet refutation. You are not a dog she says, but he knows that this is untrue. Knows it down to the loamy centre of himself-- perhaps if she were to see him in a moment of unbridled violence, see the beast in him come to the fore, maybe then she'd understand that he's no more a man than a wolf is.
Or perhaps she'd see something else, something he's incapable of seeing in himself. It's impossible to know.]
I don't expect you to understand. I doubt anyone could, unless they're from down there.
[It's why he always knew that to leave would be impossible, no matter what Heine had done, no matter what Mother did to him. He's a product of that twisted place and the world outside could never be for him...only now he's been thrust into it quite against his will, and the weight of that fact presses heavy on him. He still doesn't believe he can survive it, out here on his own, with no-one to hold the leash.]
But I'm a dog, all right. Just a different breed from the sort you're thinking of. Hahah.