[the obvious relief isn't unnoticed. it's not observed without a raw, irritable kind of sympathy; Badou knows what it's like, to feel so tightly wired that reality and delusion blur. he knows what it's like to wake up at six in the morning in a sudden panic (a sound outside that sounds like junkie-rapists but is only a tree against the window's glass). he knows what it's like to see shadows from the corner of your eye and think horrifying things (tall men black hoods shining masks shining knives shining blood). he knows what it's like to be so tired from the daily grind you lose track of time and somehow end up in the past instead of the present (waking up with a groggy start and instantly wondering if they had enough eggs and milk and bread for two)]
-- Yo.
[Badou might not dream, but he knows when sleep (when dark solitude) is fucking useless]
Re: action;
-- Yo.
[Badou might not dream, but he knows when sleep (when dark solitude) is fucking useless]
[his voice is flat, even]
They're asleep, right? Ya wanna watch a movie?