Re: [Woods: Atticus & Eames]
"Thought thinking was just thinking?" he asked, lazy entertainment on his features. Managed to not look indolent. Just looked like he wasn't rushed. Even spoke slowly. Ignored the haunts that lingered back in the trees. They had become afraid of Lear months ago, the haunts, but now they were staying back because of him, too. Felt good. Made him more comfortable in his skin. Cocky, even, as Lear had accused him of being. But after a lifetime of being vulnerable, was nice not to be. Felt powerful, and that was evident in the comfortable way he carried himself. Unworried. No rush. Nothing bad on the horizon. Didn't mean he was stupid enough to think Repose would cease its wonderful brand of badness, but could handle that. Had been able to handle that since day one.
Made a sound of consideration, something bordering on agreement when Eames said he didn't know how many Januses there were; didn't know himself. Had met... three? Thought it was three, at this point. Maybe four or three-point-five. "An odd duck. Interesting descriptor." Didn't think he'd refer to Janus as a duck in any guise, but also comprehended that Eames here knew the man better than him. Also noted the fondness, but wasn't surprised by it. Wasn't especially romantic himself, but assumed there had to be some fondness in a relationship that extended beyond the solitary night.
Chuckled about the ink, but felt no need to clarify. "Depends on who you ask," he said instead, taking another swallow of the beer. "If he's me or not. Janus says no. Others say yes. Have an opinion so far?" Wasn't sure how well Eames knew the old man he would never become, but was curious. Who wasn't curious about themselves? Anyone who said they weren't, in Atticus' opinion, was lying. "How about you? What's your story, living out here? One of the town's many hiding residents who prefer an electricity-free existence to living where people can see you?"