( what answer could Ben possibly give? he stares at the writing on the glass, then at the other man with an expression of someone bearing bad news, guilt and loss palpable in Ben's face. he doesn't have answers, and so much for hoping that the other man would have some for him, instead.
but there is something on the tip of Ben's tongue, when he considers the question, where is 'here'? it's difficult to define in clear terms — which is of course a bane for Ben, by nature, but there is something about it, in the back of his mind... not necessarily like a sense of belonging, but—
the man isn't looking at him anymore. his attention has jumped like that of a dog, whose senses have instinctually latched onto something. Ben blinks and whips quickly around to check behind his shoulder — look, given the vantage point and his luck, Ben just expects he's about to find something behind him.
nope, just continuously moved furniture. also the warped ceiling is...lower. Ben isn't a fan of that.
he turns back and leans in, possibly uselessly; Ben can't see what the other sees from his view, and he certainly can't overhear what's going on. what is going on?
whatever is happening, Ben doesn't like the look on the man's face.
something pangs his gut, as he watches movement shiver, vague and subtle, against the glass behind the man. is something there with him? Ben has to grasp onto something — he wants to know more. )
Nᴀᴍᴇ? Bᴇɴ
( Ben can feel his pulse ticking up. it's moot to ask the man where he is — the landscape and its contents change regularly — but who should be trustworthy. Ben sees the backdrop to this mirror's view and sees cheaply upholstered benches and clunky windows, knowing it to be a bus. a bus is recognizable, amidst all the chaos.
assuming...the two of them are even in the same world, at all. )
no subject
but there is something on the tip of Ben's tongue, when he considers the question, where is 'here'? it's difficult to define in clear terms — which is of course a bane for Ben, by nature, but there is something about it, in the back of his mind... not necessarily like a sense of belonging, but—
the man isn't looking at him anymore. his attention has jumped like that of a dog, whose senses have instinctually latched onto something. Ben blinks and whips quickly around to check behind his shoulder — look, given the vantage point and his luck, Ben just expects he's about to find something behind him.
nope, just continuously moved furniture. also the warped ceiling is...lower. Ben isn't a fan of that.
he turns back and leans in, possibly uselessly; Ben can't see what the other sees from his view, and he certainly can't overhear what's going on. what is going on?
whatever is happening, Ben doesn't like the look on the man's face.
something pangs his gut, as he watches movement shiver, vague and subtle, against the glass behind the man. is something there with him? Ben has to grasp onto something — he wants to know more. )
Nᴀᴍᴇ?
Bᴇɴ
( Ben can feel his pulse ticking up. it's moot to ask the man where he is — the landscape and its contents change regularly — but who should be trustworthy. Ben sees the backdrop to this mirror's view and sees cheaply upholstered benches and clunky windows, knowing it to be a bus. a bus is recognizable, amidst all the chaos.
assuming...the two of them are even in the same world, at all. )