He takes the time to shave, and then to make sure everything is exactly as where Pagan put it. Then he takes his bowl of oatmeal, which is still warm but won't burn, and devours it in perhaps five or six bites.
Pagan just watches him with a laugh from his spot at the table. "There's plenty. That's the thing with oatmeal. Now, I assume you'll want to get back into the mess of this place and I can get back to my life."
He has another bowl, but he sits at the couch and beckons Pagan to join him. It's a fairly clear sign he's in no hurry to get them out the door. "How has the mess been? Anything I'd be sorry I missed?"
He turns the television on mute and joins him, shrugging. "Would you believe me if I said I haven't been paying attention?" he asks. "I - well, it's so cyclical. He kills, she kills, we kill, and then we're back at the beginning. I'd rather watch my dramas." He gestures to the television.
"Good." A long sigh. "Nothing is ever going to change the violence that goes on around here, but you not being involved is...good. I'm glad. I think it's even a good sign of progress." Even if it's only coming from a place of exhaustion.
"That makes it sound like you have some idea of where you want to be headed," he says, quietly, wanting to let Pagan think. "I don't mean just 'off the ship'. Who do you see yourself becoming that makes this version of yourself feel stagnant?"
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Does he sound sad about that?
Maybe.
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He doesn't sound convinced.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm just standing still here."
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