Re: quicklog: max/jack
[She didn't need to worry about startling him - he'd heard the front door open from the back room without really even paying attention for it.
He was glad to see her. He was glad she was still safe, and that his fears for her safety and everyone else's were dissolving. It was slow, still laced with adrenaline and the real danger of that place, but it was happening.
He had been in arguably more dangerous situations than Silent Hill, but his own safety wasn't what had left such a lasting mark, and he assumed it was the same for Luke and Wren. It was the nightmarish recriminations of the long dead, the twisted things that he knew full well had spawned from the most ugly parts of him. On his best days, he liked to ignore those things, those places. Guilt, bile, rage, unresolved violence, regret, they all had flesh in Silent Hill. They had eyes. Well, some of them had eyes. Others had dozens of mouths.
While Max talked about the kids, he nodded, and shut the door behind her.] Better. [He liked hearing about them, knowing they were safe.] Did you think I was going to hurt them?
[He turned around again, then, his back to the door. It wasn't accusatory, but as the panic and visions of death around every corner had slowly faded, he'd started to realize there was a reason he was here, and that it wasn't for his own protection. Not really. When she mentioned the brewery back at the apartment, though, its isolation had spoken to his own real fear. He didn't look too carefully at the things at the bottom of his own mind, because there wasn't much point in living in that place anymore. He ignored them as best he could, and he got on with his life. But there was no denying that the creatures that place had spat out had been as much him as his own left hand, and they would have killed anything in their path.]