[ well, steve better get ready for a boatload of disappointment because eddie won't be able to tell him much else other than the mostly convincing fact that yes, he's alive! but how? how? thinking of that alone is enough to drive eddie down a spiral of questions with no answers and no matter how convincing steve might demand to be, shoves and walls and all, once they do have a chance to chit-chat about this, he'll be able to tell him diddly-squat. nothing that won't make him sound absolutely insane and the only saving grace about that was that all of this was certifiably insane. he wouldn't believe it himself if he wasn't in the middle of it himself.
talk about 'see it to believe it'.
he can walk, albeit it sucks, but there's not enough taps in the world to relay that part across but all of this sucks ass.
where steve contemplates the gates, eddie follows in natural progression. his foot taps an anxious rhythm and he thinks the trailer would be the obvious choice. eyes slip shut and hands run through his hair to cradle his head and its difficult not to feel the coward again for not wanting to face it now.
what if the bats are there? that place was covered by those vines, too, and boarded up, and — and chockfull of very recent and very raw recollection that made his heart race thinking about it and look at brave eddie munson, running again, always running —
his head snaps up. Highway. Fred. yeah, yeah, he remembers. yet another one he's blamed for. he takes a breath. he can do this. he doesn't need to go back there. he can go to another place. it's not terribly far, not when you measure it in steps to safety. he nearly knocks the light over, shoving his hand back for two taps. ] I'm gonna have to, won't I, Harrington?
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talk about 'see it to believe it'.
he can walk, albeit it sucks, but there's not enough taps in the world to relay that part across but all of this sucks ass.
where steve contemplates the gates, eddie follows in natural progression. his foot taps an anxious rhythm and he thinks the trailer would be the obvious choice. eyes slip shut and hands run through his hair to cradle his head and its difficult not to feel the coward again for not wanting to face it now.
what if the bats are there? that place was covered by those vines, too, and boarded up, and — and chockfull of very recent and very raw recollection that made his heart race thinking about it and look at brave eddie munson, running again, always running —
his head snaps up. Highway. Fred. yeah, yeah, he remembers. yet another one he's blamed for. he takes a breath. he can do this. he doesn't need to go back there. he can go to another place. it's not terribly far, not when you measure it in steps to safety. he nearly knocks the light over, shoving his hand back for two taps. ] I'm gonna have to, won't I, Harrington?