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"Don't you think I know that?!" Lance shouted, angry tears welling thick in his eyes, "Do you really think, that after all this time I'd be so thick as to think they actually care about me?!"
"Because, I just can't." He growled, it made him startle for a moment, the sheer malice in his voice almost animalistic, "Believe me if I could come back I would, but right now I just can't, and you need to leave before I do something I'll regret."
“No Jon, I’m sure you needn’t worry about that,” Jon blinked back fog as his silent reply, down at the papers and employee records and things he shouldn’t have being pushed aside and sorted through on his boss’s desk: a birth certificate; school records and accompanying information; medical forms he would have forgotten about if he didn’t recognize his name and relevant professional diagnoses and disability grants, “I was actually considering a transfer for you.”
hmmm... can you tell i'm an angst writer? ψ'(._. )'>
He chokes out something about needing to talk, manages to get in that it involves both Sam and the thing that killed Mom, and hangs up so forcefully he nearly tosses the phone to the ground
At the very least, it had to be more fae- fae that wouldn’t be so kind to him as the Archivist.
Gertrude may think that she alone bore the burden of doing what must be done, but Jonah had shouldered that responsibility long before she was born, much as his Archivist may like to forget it.