At this point the jury's still out whether Doc would find 70s or even 21st century porn traumatising or quite fun. For as gentlemanly as he purports to be, he probably wouldn't be as awkward as he should be if he happened to chance upon a bit of filmwork whilst in the company of others.
"The photos are a little grainy, especially the older ones, but I believe that some of the more prominent people in the photo are the same people throughout time." Doc is more used to looking at older photos, the ambrotypes, tintypes, daguerreotypes and the like. There's a lot less guesswork involved in the newer glossy and matte photos.
The more loose threads they tug on, the more obfuscated everything seems to be. It feels like they've been trapped in this fog ever since they stumbled into town that they haven't been able to find their way out of. Even when the actual fog has dissipated they are still just as lost as they had been when they first got here.
"I suppose we will receive further instructions, if we are to start burning offerings and slitting each others' throats." Doc is obviously opposed to the idea since they have no offerings to burn and no sacrificial throats readily available. He is curious about The Lodge, and he wouldn't mind visiting where Raylan had gone even if it is just to see the space where the lodge should be. But he would not ask this of Raylan while he's still nursing his injuries.
"I don't know if the Lodge will have any means of opening pathways home," Doc muses quietly. It would probably only lead to more questions, more mysteries, more confusion. "I-- there are oft moments I consider the merits of going home." He glances at Raylan for half a second before looking back at the mirror. He doesn't want to explicitly say he has considered staying, outright. It feels counterproductive.
no subject
"The photos are a little grainy, especially the older ones, but I believe that some of the more prominent people in the photo are the same people throughout time." Doc is more used to looking at older photos, the ambrotypes, tintypes, daguerreotypes and the like. There's a lot less guesswork involved in the newer glossy and matte photos.
The more loose threads they tug on, the more obfuscated everything seems to be. It feels like they've been trapped in this fog ever since they stumbled into town that they haven't been able to find their way out of. Even when the actual fog has dissipated they are still just as lost as they had been when they first got here.
"I suppose we will receive further instructions, if we are to start burning offerings and slitting each others' throats." Doc is obviously opposed to the idea since they have no offerings to burn and no sacrificial throats readily available. He is curious about The Lodge, and he wouldn't mind visiting where Raylan had gone even if it is just to see the space where the lodge should be. But he would not ask this of Raylan while he's still nursing his injuries.
"I don't know if the Lodge will have any means of opening pathways home," Doc muses quietly. It would probably only lead to more questions, more mysteries, more confusion. "I-- there are oft moments I consider the merits of going home." He glances at Raylan for half a second before looking back at the mirror. He doesn't want to explicitly say he has considered staying, outright. It feels counterproductive.