Re: [quicklog: the lookout]
[Even as Patrick said them, Adrian knew he wouldn't forget his words. Had he not been wrong before, startlingly naive, assuming that his new employers knew nothing at all about the Obscurus? They had let him go after his little 'malfunction,' of course - they hadn't kept him for a test subject, a prospect that made his spine stiffen. He had been wrong, though, to think he had been invited to work at the facility purely on the strength of his previous work. What if he was wrong, too, about their motives now? He wasn't so foolish as to think there was no possibility his employers could be lying to him, but did they know more than he did? Could something in the depths of the facility already be moving toward completion, waiting on a research breakthrough from him?
The purpose of his work was to heal the building blocks of life, to mend breakages at the root. He didn't work on weapons. The very thought that he might be contributing unwittingly to something destructive was anathema to him. The seed, though, was planted. All he could say was:] I hope you're wrong.
It took a few moments before he could press down a whirlwind of anxiety, running over the experiments of the past few months in his head. Was he sure that nothing he'd done could be reproduced by someone else? It was easier to ignore the possibility that things could go wrong when the worries were your own, simply dismissed - harder when someone else felt them too.]
I don't want you to be unhappy. [His brow furrowed.] I just wonder about you. You're very generous. Maybe too much for your own good. [And he didn't want to see anyone take advantage of that, purposefully or no. Not even someone else who he liked.
He hid his hands in his pockets again. He couldn't explain that he didn't see what there was to like.] I suppose that's true. [The idea that Nameless couldn't exist without him was much more comforting than the idea that they were one and the same. It offered a little security, at least.
He looked through the pane of glass to the glimmering world beyond, shining emerald green.] You were fighting something beautiful, though. [He tipped his head to get a better look at the world through the glass.] But you are right. I'm not getting anywhere.
[He looked up at Patrick again.] I could try. [He pressed his balled fists inside his jacket pockets a little closer to himself.] I can't imagine why I did. But if I learn why, he might just go away on his own. [His tone hardened.] He's hardly needed anymore, whatever his original purpose. [He swallowed.] He's a distraction.