That saw doesn’t escape Teddy, nor does the brief surprise, annd their eyes fix on Numbers, gears turning in their mind. Even at face value, him thinking something else is going on — despite the cold unease that twists in Teddy’s gut — makes them feel a hell of a lot less crazy: trying to explain that they have seizures, and this had to be that, but what if it wasn’t?. Even in Teddy’s head that sounds like a good way to get a patronizing let’s just get you home, sweetheart . At least, from someone who isn’t Numbers.
“Not at all,” she says, with a polite smile, slightly broadcast for any potential looky-lous that might be watching through blinds. The nod of thanks is entirely genuine, though: Teddy’d been trying to figure out a way that wasn’t completely pathetic sounding to ask if he might stay with her. If it does turn out to have been a seizure, much as she trusts Scout, if something else happens it’d be best to have a person.
Teddy pivots so they’re turned alongside Numbers; it means Scout stays to the inside of the sidewalk, too, which is better. The dog has been vaguely sniffing around Numbers’ general area, but seems content that he’s giving Teddy a hand. “Actually, do you mind—“ they add, and touch the back of his arm, telegraphing tucking their hand into his elbow before just doing it.
It’s useful, stability wise. It’s also convenient for speaking close together. And her “husband”’s friend ensuring her safely home after a tumble seems unlikely to be the sort of thing anyone will look at the wrong way.
“The things I see, usually,” Teddy says, quietly, after a moment, “it’s —- well, honestly? It’s more akin to being real high,” they laugh. “Than any sort of vision, for sure. The room can look like it’s melting, or — scrolling? Like, up, past my head? I might feel too big or too small or like things are taking hours. Sometimes I can’t understand people talking. Or it feels like there’s a thought I can’t quite get to that’s really important, like I’d know everything if I could just find the words for it.” Every time she explains these seizures she feels like she’s casually revealing she’s absolutely delusional, which isn’t fair to herself or delusional people, but it’s sticky.
It’s not the point. “This wasn’t like that. At all, except for being sudden. This was more like — a dream, or — a movie. A…” they hesitate. “Almost a memory. But like it went to the wrong person.”
Teddy glances up at Numbers, his height on her more obvious this close. “Does that make any sense?”
no subject
“Not at all,” she says, with a polite smile, slightly broadcast for any potential looky-lous that might be watching through blinds. The nod of thanks is entirely genuine, though: Teddy’d been trying to figure out a way that wasn’t completely pathetic sounding to ask if he might stay with her. If it does turn out to have been a seizure, much as she trusts Scout, if something else happens it’d be best to have a person.
Teddy pivots so they’re turned alongside Numbers; it means Scout stays to the inside of the sidewalk, too, which is better. The dog has been vaguely sniffing around Numbers’ general area, but seems content that he’s giving Teddy a hand. “Actually, do you mind—“ they add, and touch the back of his arm, telegraphing tucking their hand into his elbow before just doing it.
It’s useful, stability wise. It’s also convenient for speaking close together. And her “husband”’s friend ensuring her safely home after a tumble seems unlikely to be the sort of thing anyone will look at the wrong way.
“The things I see, usually,” Teddy says, quietly, after a moment, “it’s —- well, honestly? It’s more akin to being real high,” they laugh. “Than any sort of vision, for sure. The room can look like it’s melting, or — scrolling? Like, up, past my head? I might feel too big or too small or like things are taking hours. Sometimes I can’t understand people talking. Or it feels like there’s a thought I can’t quite get to that’s really important, like I’d know everything if I could just find the words for it.” Every time she explains these seizures she feels like she’s casually revealing she’s absolutely delusional, which isn’t fair to herself or delusional people, but it’s sticky.
It’s not the point. “This wasn’t like that. At all, except for being sudden. This was more like — a dream, or — a movie. A…” they hesitate. “Almost a memory. But like it went to the wrong person.”
Teddy glances up at Numbers, his height on her more obvious this close. “Does that make any sense?”