Text, reading: "...he kept talking. “It’s nice to finally get to meet you properly,” he continued, with a surreptitous glance to his patient, “Although I don’t suppose you remember much of yesterday. We have met before.”
Predictably, the boy said nothing in response. Very, very subtly, however, he bristled. The shift was like a heavy shadows rolling in – slow, silent, but a clear threat building. His eyes narrowed and his whole expression darkened. Nathan couldn’t quite tell over the soft thrum of the room, but he thought for a moment that he heard a faint growl.
This worked on everyone else, didn’t it? It’s not that he hadn’t expected it, at least to a degree – beyond the evidence of Aeryn’s injury, there was Geraldine’s readiness to press him to the task, and the perfunctory nature of the handful of nurses’ visitation notes that he had resting under his thumb. All of them, he saw, had been in, done, and out again as quckly as possible.
His patient seemed to be counting on it again, or at least hoping for it.
But that wasn’t how this worked. Not in his mind, anyway.
After a moment’s hesitation, he replaced the smile that had slipped free and he continued. “Right.” he said, “How are you feeling?”
The boy’s heavy eyebrows spiked into a downward V shape, digging a trench of annoyance and confusion between his eyes. There was a twitch of his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then he stopped himself. The eyes had it all, though: How do you think I’m feeling, you ignoramous?
Something like that."
Writing is a lot like drawing sometimes: there is so MUCH scribbling that goes onto the page first while I'm figuring out the structure of where I want to go.
I've written, rewritten, torn apart, and put this scene back together at least a dozen times over the last month.
#writing #AlphaBase
