(( *S* Assumption made this is open. Please let me know if not and I’ll delete the post))

The figure’s nails had cracks along their edges and underneath, carried the dirt of travels, it having been a while since they had met with a bar of soap. Under the cowl, eyes the color of dusk inspected each one separately, attempting in some way, to pass the time. Patience hadn’t always been a virtue, really.

It still wasn’t, if the truth were told. Finding foibles helped, yes. But finding foibles, though numerous, only took up so much time. It wasted but moments to recognize that yes, all of the marks of mistakes and confusions from the last two weeks were still there. That left the rest of the waiting time open to whatever thoughts and emotional upheavals that might choose at that time to strike. It was like waiting at a banquet of offal, afraid to touch anything set out, yet unable to stifle the idle, childish, and morbid curiosity wondering which object would serve to be the most distasteful.

You always do confuse things, so., the inner laughter was almost the exact replica of a memory never forgotten.

Thin lips curled imperceptibly at the corners, though the voice, cracked as it was, could not contain the amusement when, hoarse and low, it whispered to no one in particular, "I suppose I never did do things the easy way."

Hn. You could say that again. Now then, how are you going to handle this one? Ah! I know!, sarcasm rung through the voice, How about you leap in there, blade whirling, demanding results or you… create more of that creative havoc. That worked oh so well last time, don’t you think?

"Of course," the cowled figure’s body bent unnaturally to one side in remembrance of the sharp blow to the ribs, a blow required to end one such creative episode. "While I’m at it, I’ll not remind you that you were the one who told me to strike first and ask questions later. You always gave such good advice."

A dry chuckle filled the memory space. You never could discern the appropriate time to use advice, could you? Even now, years later, you still argue with me on that point. Regardless, it hasn’t ever worked when you chose to use it, and always was needed when you chose not to. Why not do the opposite of what you think is necessary?

A cough rattled through a thin chest and the lips tightened until they were but a pale, parched line across a triangular chin. The one who waited did not answer.

That was the trouble with carrying a voice around with one’s self. Just because you chose to end the conversation did not mean that the voice would quiet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something one could stop up one’s ears and bypass.

Silent treatment? Oh for- Clearly Al, you’ve sunk to a new level. It has not been, what? Oh yes, ten months since I’ve had the silent treatment? That would be ten months, if I were still around to count time. I thought we’d really come to an agreement on this one. The voice waited for a moment and when nothing was forthcoming, sighed. Have you decided?

With a groan of resignation, the waiter slumped in a half bow of defeat. "Decided what kind of fool to be?"

No, idiot. We both know the answer to that question I meant if I’m real or not?

But the waiter had no answer to that particular question, never had. Blissful silence finally reigned in the cocked head and moonshot eyes lifted to stare forward, having heard an approaching being. Questioning a course of action at that point was rather fruitless. The path had been set. They would all go forward, or the path would cease right here. There was a relief in that, somehow.

__________________

‘What will my death be like?’ he thought- and knew at once
with abrupt certainty, that it would be just like his life:
... the same balance of bearables.
~Amis