“And the spiral is significant?” He’s not been marked either, and neither did he see anyone who was, but hearing about it now...
He makes a mental note to follow up with Dean, in that case. If something else doesn’t come up and knock them on their ass.
There’s a crooked little smirk, though, arms folded. “Oh, I have. Had to wrangle a bottle away from Constantine though,” it’s mostly a joke, though with Five, it’s hard to tell. “But, didn’t want you to feel too left out.” To be fair, any of them here could be easily accused of alcoholic dependencies.
Five’s expression withers, a little, at Doc’s following comment. Something that’s almost a wince, a single twitch in the corner of an eye as he looks away. “Yeah. That's not a bad thing, you know. There's better places to be than on their radar.” Though honestly, it didn’t sound like the Commission was ever remotely part of Doc’s world. If they had discovered inter-dimensional travel, there is no way he wouldn't have heard about it.
So, he’s going to run on the assumption that Doc will never know about the Commission any more than what Five himself says. “Actually, how did your longevity come about?” He can’t say he wasn’t curious. Since they were sharing, and all.
“And don’t remind me. I'm just about ready to toss any clock I see into the trash as a matter of principle,” the clocks are a slap-in-the-face sort of reminder.
The idea that Doc says makes sense. A lot of sense. If they go with the theory of time irrelevance, even to the previous residents, then that means they must have had some sort of other way of keeping track.
“What, like phone calls?” His delivery is wry, but not dismissive. This is a very good point. And once again, a little too close to what his aforementioned former employer would have done. Its the Board of Directors all over again, and he's surprised how much he hates to think about that blood soaked memory. “...The Bulletin board, maybe?”
“But that’s assuming that time was never something anyone cared about here. And if that was the case, why the hell keep any clocks in the first place?”
no subject
He makes a mental note to follow up with Dean, in that case. If something else doesn’t come up and knock them on their ass.
There’s a crooked little smirk, though, arms folded. “Oh, I have. Had to wrangle a bottle away from Constantine though,” it’s mostly a joke, though with Five, it’s hard to tell. “But, didn’t want you to feel too left out.” To be fair, any of them here could be easily accused of alcoholic dependencies.
Five’s expression withers, a little, at Doc’s following comment. Something that’s almost a wince, a single twitch in the corner of an eye as he looks away. “Yeah. That's not a bad thing, you know. There's better places to be than on their radar.” Though honestly, it didn’t sound like the Commission was ever remotely part of Doc’s world. If they had discovered inter-dimensional travel, there is no way he wouldn't have heard about it.
So, he’s going to run on the assumption that Doc will never know about the Commission any more than what Five himself says. “Actually, how did your longevity come about?” He can’t say he wasn’t curious. Since they were sharing, and all.
“And don’t remind me. I'm just about ready to toss any clock I see into the trash as a matter of principle,” the clocks are a slap-in-the-face sort of reminder.
The idea that Doc says makes sense. A lot of sense. If they go with the theory of time irrelevance, even to the previous residents, then that means they must have had some sort of other way of keeping track.
“What, like phone calls?” His delivery is wry, but not dismissive. This is a very good point. And once again, a little too close to what his aforementioned former employer would have done. Its the Board of Directors all over again, and he's surprised how much he hates to think about that blood soaked memory. “...The Bulletin board, maybe?”
“But that’s assuming that time was never something anyone cared about here. And if that was the case, why the hell keep any clocks in the first place?”