Gabriel Gray (dontgiveuponme) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-04-19 02:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | gabriel gray, peter petrelli (future) |
WHO: Gabriel Gray & Future!Peter Petrelli
WHAT: An unexpected meeting and a complicated discussion
WHERE: The LA streets & then a cafe.
WHEN: April 18th
RATING: PG
Now that the chaos had finally settled, Gabriel felt no reason to keep himself inside. Sure, he'd frequented a few of the cafes and shops in the general area, but he'd not been very far outside of that. So Gabriel had grabbed an umbrella and set out to actually exam the city. He'd only heard a little bit about Los Angeles. It had practically been the other side of the world as far as Gabriel was concerned, as far away as he could get without leaving the continental United States. Still, all of this rain and dark was ruining what he had heard about Los Angeles. After several blocks worth of walking, Gabriel sighed as he noticed that his shoes had started to get soaked. He went much farther, and his pants would start to act like the stem of a flower, drawing the water farther and farther up until he was soaked to the bone again. At least his hair and glasses would stay dry.
Peter didn't care so much about the rain. His boots were sturdy and dry, the oils in his coat deflecting much of the moisture. His head was bare, but the collar of his jacket was turned up against the rain and the wind to prevent it from sliding down his neck.
Under the coat, he was warm and dry. Natural elements had become easy to deflect after a while. With his abilities, Peter could warm and dry himself, even shield himself completely from the rain if he needed to. But things like that were cause for suspicion back home, and he didn't utilize these particular attributes unless necessary.
After living so long in the desert, the rain was welcome. Peter was currently paused on a corner, eyes shut and his face turned up to the sky, letting the rain come down and wash his face. It felt refreshing and clean.
That was a curious way to stand in the middle of a rainstorm. Unless you actually wanted to get soaked. Gabriel had paused in his stride down at street to stare at the back of the man who was standing out in the storm without any cover with his face tipped up toward the downpour. He looked like he was...enjoying himself, perhaps? Or at least relaxed. But still, relaxation would fade quickly when the moisture set in, and he started to freeze.
Restarting his progression toward the corner, Gabriel paused just behind the man and offering gently, "The umbrella's big enough for two, if you don't mind sharing."
He didn't turn at the voice. He'd heard the rain clattering off the umbrella, the trod of boots upon the ground. Instead, Peter stayed as he was. "I like the rain," he said, enjoying the feeling of speaking with someone he didn't know. How many people in this place could he really know? "It feels clean."
"Rain tends to," Gabriel said with a slight amusement, not really understanding that statement too much. Rain was water, and unless it was strained through something that changed it, it tended to be clean. And while LA was probably a place were acid rain wasn't uncommon, after having been raining this long, all of that would have been washed out of the air.
"If you're sure," Gabriel said. "Hate to think you might catch your death of cold out of enjoyment."
Peter snickered, lowering his head and shaking out his hair. "Anything worth doing," he muttered. He turned his head to see the person speaking to him, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.
"You."
And then there was a sudden 180 in personality when the man turned around and saw him. A frown spread across Gabriel's face as he stared at Peter, raising a hand to nervously adjust his glasses as he took a step back and away from him, "Me?"
Peter backed up a step, one hand dropping down low by his side, fingers curled upwards as though he were holding an invisible ball. His body temperature on that hand had just skyrocketed, but with the amount of moisture in the air, there was no flame yet.
There was no flame, because the way the man had stepped back and appeared nervous made Peter slightly uncomfortable. He knew that Sylar was a deceiver, he knew that the man couldn't be trusted. But all the same, some thread of morality still survived in Peter, and he held back his wrath.
So he held the man with a glare instead. "What do you want, Sylar?"
Gabriel blinked. Wait. What? Gabriel spared a glance at his wrist, but the watch settled there was a regular Timex, ten years old, sure, but it was still just his 18th birthday present, not the piece that he'd been devoting the good part of a decade to. Still, it was just a watch. And why someone was addressing him like that was both curious and unsettling all in the same blow.
Like most watch brands, however, Sylar had been a surname to begin with. Perhaps he was mistaken, and it was just an odd coincidence. Gabriel shook his head slowly at the question, resisting the urge to step backward again. He really didn't want to seem like a coward, but the vibe that was coming off of this individual was not a pleasant one.
"Gabriel," He stated simply. "My name's Gabriel."
Gabriel. Peter hesitated. He'd said Gabriel. Sylar's name had been Gabriel Gray before; Peter remembered grilling Bennet for the information one day, back when he and Hiro had still believed. Before he'd been Sylar, Gabriel Gray had been... no one.
"Gabriel," he repeated, softly. Peter relaxed his hand, but his guard was still up. He was far too tense to completely let go.
"You look... like someone I knew," he said instead. This world was a strange one. Just how strange remained to be seen, but there was always the chance that this was a trick.
"Oh," Gabriel said, frowning softly as he looked at Peter, examining him with the same intent gaze that he offered his watches, trying to take in as much about this man's appearance and demeanor as he could. There had been another shift, an odd one, but not quite as severe as the personality turn around from a few moments before. His stance had seemed to relax, but the wariness and guarded expression were still in place. Well, mostly guarded.
Gabriel had only seen an anger like that in one set of eyes before.
"Does he deserve it?" Gabriel asked after a moment, shifting his umbrella ever so slightly, almost unconsciously, to cover both of them. His conscience really couldn't just let someone stand in the rain without a cover, even if they refused.
A brief, pained look flashed through Peter's eyes for an instant. Nathan. The wound of those words was still raw, knowing that Sylar had killed his brother back in his own time.
"Yes," he said, shutting his eyes for a moment, just for a moment, to get a grip on himself. "Yes, he does." The rain stopped hitting him. Peter opened his eyes, surprised to see the umbrella tipped a bit to shield him from the drops.
A simple, single, unselfish act. There was no gain to be had from it. Nothing, but the fact that one person was going to be a little less soaked than he was a moment ago.
Sylar would know better than to get this close to Peter Petrelli. No matter how good his facade, he would know better. This man didn't. Peter looked at this man's eyes, through the heavy-framed glasses, and saw concern, confusion, and some lighty apprehension. No sign of the cool, calculating Sylar.
Peter dropped his gaze. "I hope you never find out." It was as honest a plea as he could make. His mind screamed at him to grab the man, to crush the life out of his body, to save the world by ridding it of this stain, this blight.
The pained flash and the dropped gaze provoked a surge of sympathy within Gabriel, his hand dropping into his pocket as he peered over at Peter with a concerned gaze. He hadn't had much money on him when he arrived. He very rarely carried more than when he'd need for a cab fare when he was on his way to work. He'd been intending to keep it for an emergency since it wasn't likely that he'd be able to get a job here. There wasn't much call for a watch repairman in most situations, and he highly doubted that his services would be in high demand.
But still... There was something in him that insisted that this could be considered an emergency just as much as anything.
"I..." Gabriel started, hesitating for a moment. Was it really such a good idea if his face reminded this man of the person that he was so angry at? "There's a cafe back about a block," Gabriel said, deciding that it was a better idea than just walking away. "I'm sorry about... Well, I can't really help what I look like, but I'm sorry about startling you like I did. Buy you a coffee? Try and make up for it maybe?"
Peter stared at him for a moment, surprised and startled again by the gesture. Is this what I used to sound like? he wondered, and the thought brought a laugh to his lips.
It was a gentle laugh, a chuckle, sounding odd to his ears. He wondered what kind of person forgot the sound of their own laughter.
The man's brief mental debate over the use of his few remaining dollars made Peter shake his head. "You hold the umbrella. I'll buy the coffee." Peter had plenty of cash, after all. The technopathy he'd received some years back made it simple enough to convince ATMs to spit stacks of bills at him.
Well, that was a good sign, wasn't it? It wasn't a bitter laugh or an ironic one, and there didn't seem to be a hint of cruelty in it. It was gentle and seemingly sincerely amused. Gabriel had seen both the pain and the anger that this man had reflected before, and a quick recovery from such things was always encouraging.
Gabriel was smiling, the apprehension all but gone as he nodded, extracting the hand from his pocket to adjust his glasses nervously, a slightly sheepish look crossing his expression, "If that's all right by you," Gabriel said. He felt odd, accepting the counter offer when he'd made his to try and make up for something. But it all came to the same conclusion, didn't it?
There were reasons that he tried to avoid random interactions when he was back home. He was never sure about what was appropriate and what wasn't, and the fear that he'd make a mistake and end up embarrassing himself was almost too much to think about. He'd made a fool enough of himself when he was younger by trying to talk to people that he wasn't "supposed" to. It was easier to keep to himself after awhile than provide people with the opportunity to make a fool of him.
But as far as he could tell, that wasn't going to be the case in this situation. At least, he could only hope.
Peter nodded. "I think it's a better plan. You can't help what you look like. I can control my actions." He hesitated for another moment, then held out a hand. "My name is Peter."
He could almost feel Hiro's eyes on the back of his neck, asking what the hell he was doing, why was he risking a temporal rift like this? Peter had done many things in his lifetime that he wasn't proud of, particularly in the last five years. But he had never willfully taken an innocent life. If this was the man destined to become Sylar... maybe he could kill the monster without sacrificing the man.
There was a slight recognition in his eyes before his smile turned from gentle and hesitant to wry, the look in his eyes a mixture of amused and vindicated as he reached out and took Peter's hand, giving it a slight shake, "I was pretty sure you weren't being a bastard just to be a bastard. Gabriel Gray, but I've already told you that, haven't I?" He asked, his smile going sheepish again.
Peter let out a sigh. "There's a story to that. There's a story to everything, I guess, but that's one of the less pleasant ones."
He shifted his stance, moving both fully under the umbrella and in the direction of the cafe. "Getting dry would be a good start, don't you think? I thought the stories went 'it never rains in California'. Should have said that about Vegas instead."
"I don't need to hear it," Gabriel said after a moment. The look in Peter's eyes, both the anger and the pain, had convinced him of that. He'd pressed for an explanation before, but those looks had been more of an explanation than Gabriel had ever wanted. "I mean... It's none of my business. At least, I don't think so."
He didn't want it to be, no matter how much his brain was telling him that he shouldn't get his hopes up. Weird things were happening left and right here.
Gabriel laughed softly at the never rains comment, "The way its been going here, you'd think it never stopped raining in California," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "And that it never stops being night, either. I think that's more unsettling than the torrential downpour."
Peter frowned. "One day, you will. Not today. But you will need to hear it." It was certainly a topic for another day. Peter wasn't certain he'd be able to stop himself if he was brought to the killing edge again.
He started walking, on to the cafe. "I prefer the rain to the dark. Always have. Never much liked dark."
Gabriel nodded slowly, struggling to keep the apprehension about that statement out of his expression as they walked. Gabriel's mind was turning a mile a minute, trying not to contemplate but unable to prevent himself from wondering what why he needed to hear it, just why it pertained to him. He was nothing special, nothing that would effect things that drastically, and certainly not the type that would provoke that sort of emotional reaction.
Still. It wasn't something to worry about now.
"Same," Gabriel said. "The dark can hide too many things. Rain is pretty much harmless as long as you have sense enough to get out of it," Gabriel said, glancing over Peter as a teasing tone edged into his voice.
"Rain is cleansing. Water from the heavens. It won't get me sick or anything."
The door opened for them as they approached. Peter slid inside, pausing to hold the door for Gabriel.
Gabriel paused at the door to lower the umbrella, binding it up so that it didn't get in the way before slipping into the cafe after Peter, raising a hand to slick back the hair that had been assaulted with rain the second the umbrella had lowered, "You can't be sure of that," Gabriel said with a worrying frown, struggling to suppress the urge to admonish Peter.
He was not his mother. No more than he was his father. He wasn't either of his parents. And he didn't have to listen to the ingrained voices in the back of his head that said that this man, despite the fact that he looked in his mid-thirties, needed the same speech that a child would get.
"Anyway..." Gabriel said, trying to put the conversation on another track. "When are you from...exactly?"
That had to have been the oddest sentence that had come out of his mouth. And that was saying something considering the conversations he and Chandra had had.
Peter laughed. "Yes," he said. "I *can* be sure of that." He looked back at Gabriel. "I haven't been sick or even hurt in almost 5 payears. A little rain isn't gonna bother me."
He moved toward a booth. "Las Vegas. September of 2011."
"And I thought I had it bad being a year off track," Gabriel said as he slid into the booth, settling the umbrella down on the seat next to him, resting his chin on his hands as he bit his lower lip in thought.
2011 was a long time from 2006.
"You don't sound like a midwesterner," Gabriel said as he looked up at Peter.
"I'm not," Peter answered, stretching out in his seat. "Not native, anyway. I grew up in Manhattan. Lower East side. I lived there until I was 26."
His fingers moved briefly, unconsciously, to the deep scar running across his features. "I only settled in Vegas about a year ago."
Manhattan. Another New Yorker.
Gabriel relaxed even more, a slight smile crossing his face, "Queens," He said, chuckling a bit. "Born and raised. And probably never going to leave," He said, his last sentence coming out with a slight grumble. "This is as far away from home as I've ever managed.... Before this, that was Brooklyn."
Peter glanced at him. "Seriously? Not even Jersey? You need to get out more. It's not hard; just save up a bit and pick a place. Start off in the US, it'll be an easier transition if you know the currency and the language."
"I... I can't," Gabriel said after a moment. Oh, that idea sounded so nice. It really did, but the thought of leaving his mother on her own, of leaving her to try and cope without him around, it wasn't something that he could do in good conscience. As good as it sounded, the second thought always stopped him from going anywhere.
"My mom needs someone to look after her," Gabriel said, turning his eyes to the table. "She's... She's not used to being on her own. She never really learned how to do things for herself, and she's been having a hard time about it since Dad died."
Peter frowned. "So, you go by and see her every day? Make sure she's got food, that she's eating? Chek her oxygen levels or insulin?"
"Pretty much. Every other day, or whenever she calls and needs something," Gabriel said, pulling the sugar dispenser over to him, just to give him something to focus his eyes on other than Peter.
"She's all right with most of the domestic stuff. Shopping, cleaning, cooking, things like that that Dad made her do on her own," He said. "But she couldn't pay a bill if her life depended on it. And she does forget to eat sometimes.... She's been getting better about that. And I've been trying to get her to understand that she can't just... Dad never used to let her take care of any of the 'important' stuff, so she's used to just leaving it for someone else to do. Last time I went away for a few weeks, when I got back, all her electricity had been shut off. It was a mess trying to get it turned back on."
"What about a home nursing service?" he asked. "I mean, you're a good son and all, but you should be able to have your own life. Have you ever told her that you'd like to go somewhere for a few days?"
Gabriel shook his head slowly, "She nearly has a panic attack whenever I get close to her. It's next to impossible for a stranger to come into the house without her locking herself in her room," He said, fiddling nervously with the sugar dispenser.
Why in the world was he telling him all of this? It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it here.
"And I've never seen the point," Gabriel said, shrugging. "I mean, I used to say I wanted to travel a lot when I was younger, but Dad usually shut me up about that quick enough."
"Well, not here," Peter agreed, replying to the man's thoughts smoothly. "But there is the question of, what about when you go back?"
If they go back. It didn't seem like an option, but perhaps that was Peter's old optimism showing. And if they would be returned to their own timelines at some point, Peter didn't want this young man to continue on the path that was laid out for him.
"Your father isn't around to stop you now," Peter said, his voice a shade softer. "So, do you still want to?"
Gabriel lifted his eyes to Peter, his brow furrowing in confusion at the man's first statement. What? He hadn't said anything like that out loud. He'd certainly been contemplating it, but that didn't give anyone the chance to reply unless they could...
Gabriel shook off that thought before it could finish. Now wasn't really the time to worrying about stuff like that, was it? Chandra wasn't here, and while Mohinder had said that he would help, there was always the possibility that nothing would come of that. Chandra had always been rather disdainful of Mohinder's abilities.
He was a good son, but he had too much heart to be a scientist.
Gabriel had never really understood that statement. He couldn't see how having heart could possibly hurt anything.
Peter's last statement caused Gabriel's stomach to drop, a heavy frown spreading across his face. His father would always find some way to stop him, even now that he was dead. Getting out from under the burden that he'd settled on him while he was alive was hard enough. Throwing him off entirely seemed next to impossible. He'd probably have to go completely nuts before he was able to ignore his father's voice in the back of his mind telling him what was proper and what was expected of him.
"I want to. You never stop wanting to."
"Then how long are you going to let him stop you?"
This was certainly one of the most surreal conversations he could be having. This was Gabriel Gray, the man who would be Sylar, and Peter was trying to convince him to break out of his shell and stand up for himself.
What did it really matter, though? If this was only a temporary state, at least Peter would know that he'd tried his best, without killing. If they were stuck here, it didn't matter anyway.
As a waitress walked past, Peter softly asked her for a couple of coffees for them.
How long? It had already been a few decades that he'd let his father dictate his life. Gabriel didn't know why that he felt he owed that man any loyalty, no after everything that he'd done, after the way he had treated his family, not after he had practically stripped him of his own identity in an attempt to make Gabriel into a miniature version of himself. But there was still that voice in the back of his head that he had a hard time ignoring.
Boy, you're a Gray. We don't need any fancy educations or wide board world knowledge to get along. We're real men, and real men work with their hands. Grays are happy with what they have, and they don't long for anything more, so you stop listening to your mother's crazy ramblings and do as I say.
Gabriel shook off the thought with a sigh, "I don't know."
Peter wrinkled his nose in distaste at the memory that had surfaced in Gabriel's mind. "Ugh," he said, leaning his elbows on the table. "He sounds like my father. I'm sorry. I know the type."
"How long have you been reading my mind?" Gabriel asked, a slight annoyance in his tone, but it was overshadowed with the curiosity in his expression.
Peter blinked for a moment, then swore under his breath. "Damnit. I don't do it consciously. I just pick things up when they're in the front of people's minds. It's harder not to hear when it's someone I'm talking to, and then I end up forgetting what's being spoken and what's being thought."
I don't do it consciously.
Gabriel offered Peter a smile, "No, no, it's fine," He said with a slight laugh. "I'm just not used to someone...well... It's not one of those things anyone is used to, I'd figure. You really don't realize that you'd doing it?"
Gabriel's mind had latched onto that statement. If Peter was one of them...and he didn't realize he was even using his power, maybe, maybe he wasn't realizing it either.
Peter hesitated, then shook his head. "Sometimes abilities like this... they can be passive. They're just... there, without the conscious will to use them."
This was an extremely dangerous approach. But maybe if he knew about his ability, it could stop him from killing for another.
"So. It could just be something that I'm not even noticing?" Gabriel asked, reaching up to adjust his glasses. "Something... Something that I just take for granted and wouldn't even think of as usual?" He asked, a very slight hesitation in his voice.
Peter glanced over at Gabriel. "You look a bit nervous, friend. Is there something you're thinking of?"
"Not nervous," Gabriel said with a slight frown. "More confused than anything else. There's...something, but... I don't know. It seems ridiculous to me."
Peter smiled gently, carefully. "Any more than you think hearing thoughts was to me?"
Gabriel smiled sheepishly, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck, "I can fix things..." He said after a moment. God, it still sounded so lame. "Dad always said it was the only thing I was good at. Anything in the house would break, and I could fix it...sometimes without even trying."
"Things you didn't even know?" Peter asked. "Things you'd never considered looking at before? You could tell what was wrong and make it right?"
This was how it worked. From the horse's mouth.
"First time the washer broke..." Gabriel said, shaking his head slowly. It was ridiculous, and it wasn't something he'd thought about it ages. "First time it broke, I only looked at it because Dad was out of town. I knew what was wrong right away. I always figured... I don't know. I figured it was just because the problem was really just that simple."
"Not thinking that repairmen are trained to know what to look for, not kids." Peter nodded. "Innate aptitude. You understand how things work. I wonder if it's only mechanical systems, or any sort of system. Biological, data, digital... Even if not, that's quite an impressive skill to have, Gabriel."
"I've never tried to fix anything that wasn't mechanical," Gabriel said with a bit of a laugh. "I mean, there's no point in trying that. It's not like you can just...look at someone's biological systems properly without cutting them open. And that's only something that doctors and madmen do."
Peter let out a hollow laugh, picking up his coffee and putting the mug to his lips. "Yeah," he said, after a healthy swallow. "Madmen." He took another drink, and looked at Gabriel. "And you, Gabriel Gray, are no madman. So let's leave off the whole 'biological' bits for now. An Emergencies Only type of thing. Every try working on comouters? See if you get a sense of computer and digital systems, how they run?"
Gabriel shook his head slowly, "I've never had to work with computers beyond word processing in high school. All of the store's records are kept hard copy, and most of the clients are pretty traditionalist when it comes to methods of communication. Though..." Gabriel paused, furrowing his brow slightly, "I did set up the relay for the phone line myself without any trouble. And that was working with digital systems."
Peter smiled lightly. "I think that's something you could take some time to look into, Gabriel. Should be plenty of places around here to look through different communication systems. Digital, cable, wi-fi. And I'd try your have at a computer. Not just the Word, but really getting into the system core. I think you might find it woorth your time."
Gabriel nodded slowly, worrying his inner cheek before nodding slowly, "I suppose it couldn't hurt to give it a try," He said softly. He still wasn't quite sure he bought this, no matter how many people told him that was what it was. It seemed so hard to buy, that something he'd been doing most of his life was what made him special, that he was special all along. That tore him between laughing and crying.
Did knowing it now really make things any different than they had been?
Peter hesitated, then gently placed his hand over Gabriel's. "Knowing is different, Gabe. Now you can see how far it takes you. Test it. Push it."
Gabe? No one had ever called him Gabe before. Such a nickname was usually reserved for friends.
He'd never had any friends before.
"Thank you," Gabriel said softly, looking up at Peter. "Other than Chandra, nobody's ever really cared before."
He wanted to brush off the comment. That's what he did. Peter didn't do things like this anymore, he'd given up the starry-eyed hopeful lifestyle years ago. But in this case, it was necessary.
So instead, he gave Gabriel a light smile. "I just want you to have someone to go to if anything happens. There weren't a whole lot of people there for me. But the ones who were... even just talking things out helped a lot. And it's always better to talk to someone, rather than... I dunno, have a nervous breakdown and start killing people or something."
Gabriel laughed. The suggestion was absolutely preposterious as far as he was concerned. Shaking his head, Gabriel couldn't help but smile, "A nervous breakdown would probably leave me a jibbering wreck. I don't have a killer in me," He said.
He might have a bit of his father's temper, but that was the worst he could become. He was pretty certain of that.
Peter smiled suddenly, but it was a smile of loss and bitterness, and he moved his eyes towards the window. Emotion cut cleanly away from his face, and it was with the plastic remains of that turn in his lips that the scarred man lifted his mug to his lips, taking a slow and deliberate sip of coffee.
"We all have a killer inside," he said, his voice cold as the rain falling on the other side of the glass, as emotionless as stone. "Some people take it. Some embrace it. The luckiest of us never see so much as its shadow."
"I hope I never see it," Gabriel said softly. "I don't think I could keep a hold on my sanity if I was ever forced into that situation," He whispered, raising his coffee cup and taking a long drink from it to gather his thoughts. "I'm not good with guilt, and that much... That much I'd have to rationalize away, justify it somehow. Otherwise I'd just end up locked in my apartment, curled up in the fetal position, muttering Hail Marys from dawn until dusk."
"You'd be amazed what you can justify."
The words were still spoken in that soft, distant voice. Peter was gazing out the window, and then the focus of his eyes shifted, and he saw his own reflection in the glass. The hand not holding his mug drifted upwards, tips of his fingers brushing lightly at the lower end of the scar that marred his features.
The windowpane iced over with a sudden chill, and Peter dropped his hand and his eyes, locating his coffee mug.
Gabriel was used to being at a loss for what to do or say, and this situation thrust him directly into that feeling as his gaze flickered between the iced over windowpane and Peter, a slight frown crossing his features as he moved a hand to settle lightly on Peter's arm.
"You know, I am a decent enough listener. If there's something you need to get off your chest, too."
Peter tensed at the touch. He shut his eyes, holding back the snarl the physical contact wanted to bring to his lips.
Instead, he curled them into a smirk. "Hail Marys aren't enough when it's something you can't justify."
He drained the last of his coffee and slid his hand nearly away from Gabriel's touch. "That's enough happy bonding time for today," he said, slipping out of the booth and letting some bills fall on the table. Enough for the coffees and a tip. "I'll see you around, Gabriel. Test out what you can do. Stay away from people with it."
Why would he try and use it on people? Why was that even an issue? Before he could ask, though, Peter was gone. Heaving a sigh, Gabriel dropped his head into his hands, running them up under his glasses to rub his eyes. This was getting far more complicated than he had ever expected it to.