Dan and Richie run into each other in the first floor commons area. They have a telepathic conversation and discover they're a little more alike than they probably expected. But to anyone who sees them it probably looks like an awkward
staring contest.
⚠
Reference to violence [i.e. The Shining, IT], discussion of addiction/alcoholism
Of all things Richie could possibly be, quiet was not one of them.
He hated it. Hated it like how he hated the sensation of grief that was him constantly tossing water out of a boat with a hole in the bottom, and yet still continuing to sink. He couldn’t find his footing, not yet, not after being unceremoniously yanked into a new universe as part of some experiment - and with the silence was more like oppression, that didn’t help matters either.
Sometimes there was the good kind of quiet - when snow blew across the streets in veils that wafted along, nothing spoiled by shovels or the crack of boots yet. This wasn’t that - it was a blade (or worse) over all of their heads, and there were enough dead people to prove that fact and back up the sensation.
Richie needed a change of scenery so he decided he’d wander the building - silently. As silent as a tall, lanky thing like him could manage. Which was why he ended up in the common area, hands tucked into his jacket - he folded his muppet self into a chair, pushing his glasses up when he scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to get his clanging and banging thoughts in order. Physically, he didn’t make a sound - but mentally? That was a whole other story.
After Wynonna’s death, Dan locked himself away in his room with the full intention of remaining there until the end of the week. The guilt he felt for Fandral’s death was beyond overwhelming. It had been foolish of him to rush out of the building, putting himself and others at risk, but he hadn’t been thinking. He saw Wynonna in trouble and for a split second he wasn’t in Derleth. He wasn’t an adult. He was a little boy climbing out a bathroom window of the Overlook Hotel and sliding down the snow bank, heart pounding, Shining on the fritz, hoping his mother was right behind him even though he knew — because Danny always knew — that she wasn’t. He’d allowed the instinct of a six-year-old boy to send him out of the building to help a woman that he knew was dead. Not just saw die. Knew had died. Because he could no longer hear her thoughts in his head. She was quiet. She was gone. Dan was stupid. And Fandral paid the price for his stupidity.
But cabin fever got to him quickly as well. The only good thing about his room were the Butler wards. They sealed off a lot of the thoughts from the other Derleth residents. He could sleep peacefully at night because the magic that prevented people from entering someone else’s room also put up a telepathic barrier. Occasionally something would seep through, when he was deep in the dark zone of slumber, but mostly it was silent. And after a few days of isolation that silence was deafening.
Dan filled Azzie the cat’s food bowl with some kibble he’d purchased while they were in Florida and then closed him up in the bedroom so Azzie couldn’t accidentally get out. Then Dan began his wandering of the halls. He walked quietly, mindlessly. No destination in mind. Tony was with him, hidden in the back of his mouth. He hadn’t spoken to Dan since the incident outside of the building. But Dan sensed that despite his silence, Tony was restless. Restless and perhaps a little angry at Dan. Dan couldn’t blame him.
When he came upon the common area on the first floor, Dan paused. He recognized Richie from his picture on the net board. He carefully stepped through the room to one of the empty chairs opposite Richie and sat down. They couldn’t talk, but if Richie was right and he did have a bit of shine to him then maybe they could have a conversation. Dan offered him a pleasant smile and focused his more composed thoughts on Richie’s clamouring mind. Hello, Richie!
What the fuck.
Richie started a bit - his nerves jumped like kernels of corn in a frying pan, pop pop pop, just a complete unleashing of that until he could sort of scrape together some way to respond. Likely, his physical response wasn’t very impressive - blue jay eyes widening behind thick lenses, as his fingers reached up to scratch at the prickly cacti stubble that crawled along his jawline. A sheepish sort of gesture, apologetic in how he’d reacted at first - because needless to say, it had been a surprise.
Hi? He thought the word, his internal monologue definitely confused - the timbre held kind of a puzzled air about it, his general aura very caught off guard. However, he was a fast learner (a lot more intelligent than people gave him credit for, despite the ADHD) and he’d talked to Dan on the network. So he remembered things.
Something about dark mental doorways and the Shining. It sounded very woo, and woo was the last thing Richie ever thought he’d be. He’d grown up in a town that was as dreary as a day bound up in fog, with a sinister undercurrent beneath - even allegedly cheerful shit like video games and summer ice cream was tainted by evil. I didn’t - know I could do this. Kind of a relief, actually.
Because he was actually talking to someone. In a weird ‘you’re in my head’ kind of way.
Richie’s surprise didn’t bother him, but the sudden influx of mental confusion and the bumbling about, like trying to maneuver blindfolded over a floor covered in mismatched LEGO pieces, did feel a bit like a burgeoning tension headache. A startled jump here and confounded wobble there. Dan had to pull back a bit with his own thoughts so he didn’t take on too much of Richie’s erratic telepathic slip ‘n slide. It was always a game at first with someone who was new to understanding their shine. Some people, mostly children, slid into it comfortably and with little difficulty. Like putting on a favorite shoe. Others, usually adults, took a few moments to relax. Until Richie found his ease, Dan put up something of a protective barrier. Not unlike the one he used to keep out the angry voices behind the locked doors on the second and third floors. Although considerably less shielded. Because he didn’t fear Richie.
Once Richie seemed to get a handle of the mental landscape, Dan smiled. Soft, sympathetic, encouraging. Dan was a friendly guy. He hadn’t always been. He’d been a regular asshole for many years. But those years were well behind him now. He’d moved on to the—
(NEW AND IMPROVED DANNY TORRANCE)
Yes. Thank you, Tony.
—person he always should have been. The person Wendy and Dick could be proud of . The person Abra had needed him to be to help her survive the True Knot. The person capable of, hopefully, helping Richie learn who he was with his abilities.
You catch on pretty quick, Dan focused his thoughts on Richie. There aren’t too many people here who can communicate this way. Well, I could communicate with them this way and sometimes if their thoughts are loud enough I can hear them in return. But controlled back-and-forth like this is much more difficult with someone who doesn’t shine.
He scratched the side of his head. Convenient for a week like this though. I’d say we’re lucky to have each other, but you probably don’t feel so lucky being here.
He relaxed even more. Relaxed from where his fingers had been clenched on the arms of the chair, relaxed from where he’d dropped his jaw a little - still kind of perplexed at being able to talk like this. Richie’s thoughts were less like the drone of buzzing bees - they were calmer because Dan was calm in the way gentle breaths were, even if Richie was still kind of boggled by the way someone else could just pinball his way through neurons if he wanted, a presence even in Richie’s veins.
The Shining. That was wild.
Lucky to have each other, he agreed, then added wryly, You might change your mind soon enough. I hardly ever shut up. Hence why this portion of such a dumbass experiment was kind of the worst.
But he wanted to learn more - he wanted to get his shit together, was the main point here. If he had to let someone into his head, then so be it. How do I deal with it? I mean, I don’t even know what I can do. Is there a way to tell?
Dan had always been naturally reserved and levelheaded. He still remembered the look on Dick Hallorann’s face when they first communicated with each other in their heads during the tour at the Overlook Hotel. It was the first time Dan had ever used his shine with someone else, but he hadn’t been surprised or even all that excited. It had felt natural to him. And his Shining had been strong. Stronger than any Dick had ever seen in another person before. Let alone a child of six. And while Dan’s placid temperament had been unnerving, both to Dick and to his parents. But it was that composure which had ultimately saved him from the horrors of the hotel.
And Tony. Tony helped too.
Dan shook his head and grinned. His replacement for laughter. That’s fine. I don’t usually talk that much. I actually went a few years without talking at all as a child. You can talk for the both of us. It won’t bother me.
Something inaudible distracted Dan and he glanced towards the corridor. After a few seconds he shook it off and glanced back at Richie. It depends on how strong your shine is. It varies from person to person. It can be as simple as telepathy to as complicated as astral projection. There’s a lot to the Shining. Some things require intense practice while others come more naturally. As for controlling it…
Dan paused. He was purposefully holding back an image in his mind. If you don’t want it there are ways of losing it. Especially as an adult. But controlling it requires focus and clarity of thought. And lots of patience.
Oh, great. Focus and clarity of thought and patience - all of those things Richie clearly had in spades. Or not.
Astral projection is some acid-tripping shit, Danno. I may have done that after an ecstasy pill or two but otherwise... Richie trailed off, grinning crookedly, a flash of that snaggle tooth that braces had never fixed. It was kind of a funny weird tickle to be sitting here not talking and just looking at each other but - he’d get used to it soon enough.
Wasn’t a bad view either. He felt more sorry for Dan, who had to look at his dumb face.
I don’t think I want to lose it though. I just don’t want to be terrified like how Bev was - she’s my friend. Had the...visions, I guess? He tipped his head to the side, thinking. Cogs turning and all of that. I think seeing the future is like - looking at a building through the fog. You can’t tell what it is, exactly. You just get vague details that may or not be right.
You couldn’t hold it either. It dribbled through your fingers like sand through a sieve, or like water. Like his own long lost dreams.
Dan didn’t think Richie had a dumb face, but if he picked up on any of those empathetic sentiments he didn’t share them. Instead he simply gave Richie all of his focus and attention. As though he were the most important person in the world at that moment, snaggle tooth and all. And, truth be told, for Dan, who existed best when he had someone to help, Richie was the most important person to give his attention to. Especially since Wynonna was gone. He blinked away any flicker of sadness or grief at the memory of Wynonna’s decapitated body on the lawn outside of Butler Hall.
At the mention of Richie’s drug-induced—
(TAKE YOUR MEDICINE YOU LITTLE PUP)
(PLAY WITH US, DANNY)
Get out of my head.
—joke, Dan raised a brow. Then he focused a more serious thought at Richie. I wouldn’t recommend mixing recreational drugs with the Shining. They can numb your powers. Or make them worse. And don’t try astral projection on your own. It’s possible to get lost and never find your way back.
He paused.
Seeing the future is one of the more challenging side-effects of the Shining. I used to see a lot when I was a boy. At first it was a good parlor trick. Later it scared my mother nearly to death. I know a girl—Abra—she’s also very gifted in that way. She predicted some horrifying events as an infant. It was very hard on her. She was much stronger in that aspect of the Shining than I ever was. I can imagine it was very difficult for your friend. Dan rubbed his chin. Whenever I’ve seen future events I’ve always been separate from them. Like an outsider watching through a television screen. Sometimes they’re vague, like you said. Sometimes they’re incredibly clear. But mine have always come true. The ones I remember, at least.
They’d also always been bad, but Dan left that part out.
Promise not to do any drugs anyway - I gave that shit up awhile ago, Richie assured. No, he was past the days of Hollywood parties and coke cut with who the fuck knew what, a bump or two done conveniently on the specific coke mirror while in someone’s bathroom.
When it came to visions, bad was implied at least to some degree - Richie knew Beverly’s visions had been terrible. People hurting, people in pain, people dying. It had been each and every one of them, the Losers, and yet she hadn’t remembered them - no, not at the time. Instead, it all came together at Jade of the Orient after she called Patty, Stan’s wife, and learned of his fate. That was when she realized - all of them were doomed to that fate as well. Blood-red balloons and sharp clown’s teeth, breath that was as putrid as the sewers IT crawled out of, cracked face paint that resembled old and stale buttercream icing.
He tried not to go down that road - not right now. His trauma and grief could be shelved for another night, maybe. What do I do when I see something? he asked. Is there a way to - control something like that?
Well then. Welcome to the I Gave That Shit Up Club. Dan could be flippant about it now and he very often was, but even his jests were tempered by a serious edge. Because Dan, like his father before him, was an addict. And his vice was in a bottle or a can or on tap or BOGO with a buffalo wing appetizer plate. The fact that he was sober going on fifteen years didn’t change the fact that he was an alcoholic. That’s what the steps taught him. That’s what he’d had pummeled into his moral core over and over and over until he stopped thinking about the drink. Stopped thinking, but never stopped wanting. He was clean and clear-headed and pragmatic. He was a poster child for how to quit. But he was always one mistake away from becoming his father.
Again.
When you see the future or when you see something else? It was important to make the distinction. Because there were a lot of things to see. And sometimes the future was the least horrifying of the bunch. Oh, wow. You’re getting into deep meta-philosophy now. Not sure if I can answer this without looping back into a circle that doesn’t make sense. I don’t know that you can really control the future. You can prepare. You can warn. Maybe you can change things. But whenever I’ve seen the future, good or bad, it’s always been something of a guide. I like to look at it as being given the answer to one of the harder questions on a multiple choice test. You know ahead of time that the answer is C, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still choose B. Whether it will change your score is the ultimate question, I suppose. You still might get something else wrong and end up with the same result.
Dan bit his lower lip. But if you start seeing other things. Things that shouldn’t be there. Things that aren’t just in your mind. That’s something you need to be more concerned about. They can’t really be controlled, but they can be destroyed. Or, at least, gotten rid of.
Richie considered all of that. It made sense - and sort of begged the question about how much of life was choice and how much was fated; trying to prevent fate, to some degree, seemed like trying to fight a losing battle.
Gotcha, he grinned again, lopsided and warm like grass soaked in sunshine. Didn’t mean to make you get so philosophical. I haven’t seen anything that shouldn’t be there - not yet, anyway. I’m still kind of learning about what happened and...what I’ve missed all these years.
He realized that maybe he should explain the ‘what happened’ thing - or at least, not be so vague about that part. The monster we fought, me and my friends - it was this evil that had infected our hometown. Hibernated for twenty-eight years at a time then awakened to feed again. Kind of - omnipotent. It could see everything. It knew what was going to happen before it did. But I think me and my friends - we all had something about us, the Shining or whatever, that let us be the ones to take it on. But going up against this thing - it jumpstarted a lot too. I had hoped it didn’t leave anything behind, even after we killed it.
He guessed he’d find out, anyway. There hadn’t been too much time between when he and his friends ended IT once and for all, and then now.
Dan didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but he did believe in destiny. Whether people fulfilled their destiny or not was another question entirely. He might have had a better answer to those questions if he were a child. Back then his mind was more accessible to the deeper ponderings of
(OTHER WORLDS THAN THESE)
the Shining and the universe and life in general. Now he was simply trying to maintain his status quo. And that wasn’t a bad thing. After everything he’d been through, both at the Overlook and later with the True Knot, a bit of good old fashioned normalcy was what he needed.
But he was a Torrance. Normal never did seem to factor into it.
Dan knit his brows together as Richie told his story. He didn’t respond right away. He let the other man’s words sink in first. His expression and his aura, which he more freely shared now that Richie was beginning to become more comfortable with the telepathic landscape, was sympathetic. It wasn’t pity. It was more a kind of tender understanding. As though he’d been in a similar situation before.
Some things always leave a stain. No matter how much elbow grease we put into it, there are simply certain forces that can’t be completely scrubbed clean. Dan’s expression drew inward for a moment. When I was a boy, my father took on a position of caretaker at a hotel. We were snowed alone, just the three of us, for the entire winter. That hotel had a stain. It had monsters. Some worse than others. My mother and I managed to escape with help from a friend. But sometimes I lay in bed at night and wonder if I’m still there. Trapped in the corridors of the Overlook. Hearing the angry voices on the other side of the doors. Watching my father unravel as they took over his mind and soul.
Dan’s gaze seemed to drift in space, but after a pause he shook it away. It’s fortunate you had your friends and that they also had this connection. Whether it was the Shining or not. It’s always nice to have someone who can understand. Someone who can really feel what you feel.
Maybe you are still there. And Richie knew what he meant - that you couldn’t fully ‘move on’ from certain troubles, or certain traumas. That they were always going to be with you, a part of you - they were spurs constantly in your heart, in your mind. You had to learn how to reconcile that fact, somehow - because pushing it away or squelching it only led to more problems down the road. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be here too.
Whatever Dan had seen at the hotel, it felt a lot like IT - the sympathy and understanding radiated from him, and Richie soaked it up and tried to give it back because he’d been there too, had his childhood ruined (and had a whole bunch of ‘adult’ issues dumped onto him, thanks) by something that wanted to consume him, and he knew what it was like.
The room didn’t feel so cold and empty anymore.
Thanks for talking, by the way. I think I’d be a lot more fucked if I didn’t have anyone to explain weird-ass mind powers to me.
Dan knew what Richie meant, as well, but that didn’t change the fact that he sometimes wondered if there wasn’t more truth to it than that. It was, after all, entirely possible that he was still six-years-old and trapped inside a horror hotel. That everything he’d experienced after entering the Overlook was a dream or an alternate reality or some kind of mental hiccup. Probably not, but he wouldn't have been surprised. Stranger things had happened, after all. Like running into a group of soul-sucking vampires that feed off the Shining.
You’re right. That’s a good point. Dan offered an encouraging smile. Encouraging both for Richie and for himself. Because even though Dan was in a good place now and on the right track, he was still haunted by his past. And by some of the ghosts he’d crossed along the way. Some of them were still rumbling about in his mind.
And whatever inhabited the second and third floors heightened those voices. Trapped but not forgotten. Locked up but still there, waiting. Dan hadn’t foreseen anything yet. Tony was reluctant to tell him about the creatures on the other side of those doors. But Dan had a feeling. A bad feeling. And his bad feelings were very often the ones to pay attention to.
I just wish I could be more helpful. Hopefully next week will be a little easier. Maybe we can actually talk. I always feel like my internal monologue sounds a bit like a self-righteous prick. You know what I mean?
He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. Maybe on the inside? Richie’s smile was bright, anyway - it crinkled blue eyes at the corners and dug into the well-earned lines there. Oh yeah, Danno. I know what you mean.
Richie wasn’t usually on the self-righteous side of things - but his humor could be harsh as a splintering wooden plank and grating; his whole personality could, probably, but that was also his own self-esteem at play, his belief that he wasn’t worth getting close to and that he put people off. He didn’t think much of himself. Sometimes hated that he had seen and experienced all these dark things, that he was prone to deep and intensely prolonged sadness and anxiety because he kept so much hidden. Part of him just wanted to let go of it all, but was too afraid for that.
Next week we’ll talk though. I can see what I have to work with - if there’s something to deep fry, I’ll make that happen too. Better than trying to eat and chew so quietly, without attracting literal actual death.
Dan probably didn’t sound as sanctimonious as he thought. It was a holdover from his alcoholic days. Back when he had a high handed excuse for everything he did. Back before he got so bad that he couldn’t hide it anymore. When he could sweet talk and sugarcoat his actions. That was a Jack Torrance trait. Passed right down the line to little Danny despite the fact that Danny always said he’d never be like his father. He said it over and over and over until one day he woke up and realized he’d been his father for over a decade. That’s about when he realized his high-and-mighty holier-than-thou excuses for how he wasn’t a drunk weren’t fooling anyone. Least of all himself.
Which was why whenever he explained what he could do he always felt like he was getting that tone. The arrogant alcoholic voice he used to have. He didn’t sound anything like that anymore. Tony reassured him of it. But Dan always felt a little preachy anyway. Even when he didn’t mean to.
Yeah, I’ll be glad when we don’t have to tiptoe to the toilet and can actually eat foods with a bit of crunch to them. I’ve got to admit, this is probably the worst week I’ve experienced since being here. Fingers crossed that’s a sign that it can only get better from here on out. Dan propped his elbow on the arm rest and leaned his head into the palm of his hand. What did you do before you came here? There are so many superheroes here I feel like I never get to ask that question. You throw a rock around here and you hit a mad scientist or someone who’s saved the galaxy twice over. It’s nice to see someone normal, for a change. Well, from a more familiar world, that is.
The idea of him being normal was sad and hilarious - but in a way, yeah, Richie guessed that he kind of was. He couldn’t shoot lasers from his eyeballs, or fart fire, or fly - or anything remotely interesting, really. Except for burgeoning Shiny-Shine powers or whatever they were - he still didn’t know if he was born with whatever he had, but he was going to guess that it was always kind of there. And just different events and circumstances triggered a release or an awakening.
But their worlds were similar - he could feel that. It was comforting, in a sense.
I’m a comedian, he replied, long fingers tracing various shapes on the table - no tapping, nothing that actually made any noise, but the letters LA were invisible seared into the wood. Los Angeles - the City of Angels. Mostly am out on tours though, doing shows. I haven’t seen my condo in a really long time. Was about to work on a Netflix special before I was summoned back to Derry to kill IT. Now I’m here.
Yep. Now he was here. For better or for worse, he guessed. What about you? Have you saved the galaxy?
It was odd for Dan, too. To think of himself as normal or average. He couldn’t fly and he didn’t have super strength. He wasn’t a technological genius or a god. Nor could he use magic. As far as Derleth went, he wasn’t much to look at and even less to talk about. He was just a guy with the Shining. And while the Shining was a kind of superpower, in a way, it had never felt as such to Dan. It just felt like a sixth sense. Like a tickle in the back of his mind that didn’t go away and sometimes exploded into a full blown allergic reaction.
Really? Dan posed the thought as though he were surprised, not in a bad way but in a ‘holy cow, gee whiz, mister, I’ve never met a real comedian before!’ kind of way. But underneath that intrigued enthusiasm it was pretty clear that he wasn’t really all that surprised. Dan knew that it was something like that. It was a feeling he’d had. This wasn’t a deception on his part. It was simple politeness. You do have a natural humor about you. I bet you’re good at it. Must be if you’re working on a Netflix special. When things settle down here you should consider putting on a performance! I think a lot of people here could use a good joke or two.
Dan was specifically thinking of Wynonna, although she wasn’t the only one. He bet Wynonna would have enjoyed a night of comedy. Assuming she came back. No one here had ever lost their head before. Dan didn’t know if there was a precedent for coming back to life after decapitation.
Me? Oh, no. Nothing so grand. I’ve stopped a few dark forces. Maybe not unlike your IT. But not galaxies. I work at a hospice. Night shift, mostly. I’m just an orderly really. Nothing fancy.
Dan pursed his lips.
(LIESSSSS)
(DON’T LIE DANNEEEEE)
(DON’T LIE)
(DOCTOR SLEEP)
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t everything. But this was their first conversation. He’d save the Doctor Sleep stuff for a week when people weren’t dying left and right.
Wow, Jesus - gonna make me blush over here. Richie’s eyes sparked with amusement - something genuine, behind the sadness that had softened his gaze as of late because he wasn’t feeling particularly funny. Hadn’t felt that way for awhile - he knew how to play up to a crowd though. Knew how to perfectly deliver a joke, a punchline, knew how to score a laugh and to thrive off of the chucks of audience members who were blurs out there when he was up baking beneath the stage lights - that was something he lived for.
Did he write his own material though? Well. No. But that seemed to be also something shunted off to the side for the next conversation - wasn’t any sense in immediately unpacking every single piece of ugly luggage he wished he could simply drop off at the curb (he couldn’t, he already tried) and showcasing it to someone he actually wanted to like him. And if you wear those medical scrubs like it’s Grey’s Anatomy, I think that’s pretty fancy. I wanna hear all about it when we’re not stuck in a cone of silence.
God, it sucked.
Dan almost laughed at that final comment. He had to physically bring a hand to his face in order to stop himself from making a noise. Then he looked down at the old linoleum floor, slightly embarrassed by the Grey’s Anatomy reference, and shook his head. It sounds fancy until you wake up at the start of every week wearing them. Then it gets a little old. I know everyone talks about how much they enjoyed our week at Disney because of the food and the rides, but honestly I was just happy to be able to buy myself some blue jeans. I never in my life thought I’d miss Target, but Derleth has the tendency to bring out those subconscious desires in everyone.
It could have been worse though. He could have arrived injured or dying or dead. There were quite a few people on campus who had it really bad at the beginning of each new week. The only thing Dan had to worry about was feeding Azzie.
And making sure he continued to follow The Steps.
It’s not all bad though. I mean, yes, it sucks. This week especially. Nothing like throwing you in the deep end. But sometimes things from home show up. If it is a big experiment like some of the people here believe, then it’s not an entirely bad one. I have to believe someone with a kind of conscience is looking out for us. Otherwise it’d be all bad all of the time. As it is, the rooming situation has already improved. Most of us have our own spaces now. When I first arrived everyone was sharing a bedroom. And there were only communal bathrooms and showers. That was a little dramatic at times. Not to mention unhygienic.
Target. Tar-jay. Well, yeah, Dan probably had a point there - you didn’t know what you had until it was gone. Or until you couldn’t just get into your car, hit up the McDonald’s drive-thru, and ask for a twenty-piece chicken nuggets to demolish all by yourself. There were things that Richie was going to miss.
However, Dan the Orderly with the Scrubs also had a few other good points too.
I’m not sure I want anything from home to show up - Especially the shapeshifting alien space clown that ‘salted the meat’ before it literally consumed children. No, that thing could stay dead and gone, with a crushed black heart staining the hands of the remaining Losers who had risked everything to take IT on. Though I guess all of that’s true. It’s good to be able to pick out the nicer stuff and focus on that for a change.
A valuable skill indeed. So Richie would see what happened (and maybe they could end up at Disney again? Please? He really wanted to spin off into oblivion on those teacups).
I should go though - won’t keep you here, Danno. But I guess - you can poke me this way anytime? If I’m not asleep, I should answer. And if he was asleep, and woke up screaming for one reason or another, hopefully he wouldn’t get anyone killed. Hashtag YOLO.
My cat arrived. Dan paused. Well, he’s not technically my cat. He’s the hospice’s cat. But we’ve ‘worked’ together for a long time now. Normally he just wanders around and does his own thing, but this week he’s locked in my room.
Dan looked upward as though he could see through the ceiling. He’s scratching at the door.
Thankfully Fandral had saved his life. If he hadn’t then no one would have been able to get into his room to feed Azzie. He didn’t want to think of how traumatic that would have been for the feline at the start of the next week. The thought made him a little queasy. He’d have to work out a different system with one of his roommates if they were ever all trapped in Butler Hall with death machine monsters out for blood again.
Dan nodded at Richie’s last comments. The same goes for you, Richie. Don’t be a stranger. Seriously. If you need to chat, doesn’t matter when, I’ll make the time. And if you need anything, just give me a call. Dan tapped the side of his head to insinuate a telepathic shout-out. Distance doesn’t matter too much either as long as you’re loud and clear. This radio has excellent reception. So if you find yourself in trouble just let out a holler. I’ll hear you.