sixwordstories | (no subject)

[Yes. He'd said he didn't think he was depressed. But that he should have to proclaim it aloud was indicative that it was something that bothered him.]

There is so much more we don't know compared to what we do know. [Like the multitude of 'issues' that both men in this room had, for starters. What could really be said about either of them? All just meaningless labels ascribed in order to write out prescriptions and make money for some drug company.]

Do you visit them often? What do you think makes them worry about you?

[There's a good X like a good boy.]

What's music mean, then?

I was hoping you could tell me.

It is-- absolute perfection.

Playing it or listening to it?

Or both?

Playing it, clearly.

How does it feel when you play music? What does perfection feel like?

How d'you explain a sensation?

Are you trying to tell me there's something you can't put into words? [Nick doesn't buy it. Not from this Joker, at least.]

True but that realisation won't come to them for another ten years give or take.

[Perhaps never when it came to their mother's husband. He'd removed them from his life and the Deck after Ashley died but they hadn't been young enough to forget the man they called 'daddy' before they learnt to call different men 'dad'.]

I don't visit them at all. They come to me guided by some misplaced sense of filial duty I suppose. According to them, I work too hard and the reason why I work so hard is because I haven't come to terms with 'The Tragedy' that struck this family. They weren't even there when their uncles perished.

['When you committed fratricide, you mean.'
'Hush, sis. Grown-ups are talking.']

It's very sweet actually, that kind of innocence.

Is that not what I just said with my words, sirrah?

Well it's common for people to bury themselves in work when they're trying to avoid dealing with problems. It is sweet that they care. [Not something Nicholas could claim to have personally experienced, or even understand. But he could see the assumptions being made, given the circumstances.]

Do you talk to them about their uncles? Talking about them with ease can show your nieces that you've coped with their deaths.

Are there many things you can't put into words?

Oh, you too, Doctor Lancaster? It seems to me that being a workaholic is considered a virtue these days. And it's not really work when you enjoy it, is it?

[A slow smile stretched his lips as he leant back against the sill, slipping his hands into his pockets. Archie was slowly getting a grip on himself again.]

I wouldn't know what to tell them. We weren't very close, my brothers and I. [A pause, a tilt of the head, calculation lurking behind dark eyes.] Maybe the kids should talk to you or someone like you.

[Well, he'd never admitted to being a workaholic, but. The job did keep him busy, and that meant he wasn't going to try and do what he really wanted to do with his time. Like make dying people scream.]

Do you think they're not coping with the deaths? [Nicholas had nothing against kids. Nor did he really believe that they'd get much flak for it at school, or anything like that. It just seemed like the professional thing to say - there was no need for them to be here if they were coping just fine.]

I think their fixation on me and my alleged unresolved grief is unhealthy.

[It was becoming a nuisance to be honest. Ashley's children looked nothing like him and nothing like their mother, either. If they had looked like her, he might have kept them. But they didn't and therefore they'd had to go. And now they were starting to wear him out. He didn't care for that.]

Young people shouldn't burden themselves with the troubles of their elders.

Well. [Nicholas leans back in his seat and he looks pensive enough to pass off as considering Archie's words for a moment.]

What do you think young people should burden themselves with?