[ it feels rude to look back now, especially when he is all but right behind her. neither of the names are anything she would have expected from someone who looks like him, which is an awful thing to think about and she feels suitably ashamed for it the second she does. the syllables and consonants tumble a little clumsily on her tongue, accent wrapping them in a slightly different coloring, and she has to repeat both names once more just to get a proper feel for them. she hasn't met too many people here yet, but of the ones she has there are names that immediately stick out to her in their novelty. takeshi kovacs feels like it will be one of them. ]
It's a chapel, [ she answers, after a while. at her sides her hands itch to do something — reach up, palms together, or rub at some beads. quite ironically, she wishes she still had that handkerchief to fidget with. she half-wonders if he'd give it back to her if she asked. (would he still even have it at all?) ]
I don't know who or what for. I only came in here because I was lost, and it looked like it was about to rain.
[ maybe that makes her look a little foolish. some lost little lamb, desperate to find its shepherd in someone else's home. ]
What do you do, [ she finds herself asking, ] if you don't do the God thing?
[ she might have fallen off in keeping up with the practices, but she never fully lost her faith. it's too ingrained, and become too much of a comfort especially when everything else feels out of her control. don't worry, her mama would say, pray about it.
harlan wasn't a particularly religious man, not were any of his children, though during the holidays they all liked to play dress up and show face at the local church. he was spiritual, in the sense that he didn't fear death but still worried enough about his soul that he tried to do what right he could.
what of takeshi kovacs? someone who is just as lost and confused as her? what does a man without the comfort of a prayer, false or not, do when the answers won't come? ]
no subject
[ it feels rude to look back now, especially when he is all but right behind her. neither of the names are anything she would have expected from someone who looks like him, which is an awful thing to think about and she feels suitably ashamed for it the second she does. the syllables and consonants tumble a little clumsily on her tongue, accent wrapping them in a slightly different coloring, and she has to repeat both names once more just to get a proper feel for them. she hasn't met too many people here yet, but of the ones she has there are names that immediately stick out to her in their novelty. takeshi kovacs feels like it will be one of them. ]
It's a chapel, [ she answers, after a while. at her sides her hands itch to do something — reach up, palms together, or rub at some beads. quite ironically, she wishes she still had that handkerchief to fidget with. she half-wonders if he'd give it back to her if she asked. (would he still even have it at all?) ]
I don't know who or what for. I only came in here because I was lost, and it looked like it was about to rain.
[ maybe that makes her look a little foolish. some lost little lamb, desperate to find its shepherd in someone else's home. ]
What do you do, [ she finds herself asking, ] if you don't do the God thing?
[ she might have fallen off in keeping up with the practices, but she never fully lost her faith. it's too ingrained, and become too much of a comfort especially when everything else feels out of her control. don't worry, her mama would say, pray about it.
harlan wasn't a particularly religious man, not were any of his children, though during the holidays they all liked to play dress up and show face at the local church. he was spiritual, in the sense that he didn't fear death but still worried enough about his soul that he tried to do what right he could.
what of takeshi kovacs? someone who is just as lost and confused as her? what does a man without the comfort of a prayer, false or not, do when the answers won't come? ]