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You are all just slaves to my hypnotic patter
2013-06-06 12:00 am (UTC)
Staring hardly registered with him; it was, after all, what practically
did. Not staring was a more unique reaction, really.
He smiled, behind the mask, sound carrying through to his voice: "Really? Did he? He must have been quite distraught!" Not that he's surprised that Meister was, of course. That much had been obvious. But... really, his theatrical qualities were, somehow, endearing. RENT must have meant he was so
"And, yes, it left scars. But that's nothing new; why, I'm not sure I could say which are fresh and which are old!" They're all blended together in his head, one connected scar pattern rather than individual scars, like-- oh, a map, or something similarly poetic. Like a chaotic picture that doesn't actually make any recognizable shape, in the end. "Though I feel I must correct you. I
blown up, luckily, having made it out of the building by that point. Mostly." Mostly out of the building, and then he'd been shot out into the river. Like a very high-pressure water slide!
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The Music Meister
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