"Maybe try the Eighteen-70s?" Offers the teenage punk, but his face falls as he says it. It's just the silly idea that he doesn't want to work more tangles into his hair that keeps Tim from running a hand through it.
(Yes he knows what a comb is, thanks. Yes indeed he does know how to use one. Thanks. But there's only so much energy at the end of a day, and only so much Tim can tolerate of dunking a cut-up, cleaned towel into warmish water to clean himself. Besides, his hair's grown out to longer than he's ever worn it-- maybe he'll scavenge a dead girl's room for a hair tie.)
"I'm sorry," he tries again. "I can't imagine being-"
and he stops, and he sighs, and he can imagine time travel, frankly; but his future starts and ends with him holding a gun to his head, so Tim treads carefully because
because.
"I don't know. I haven't found out how the Aurora makes its picks, or an explanation for what brought us here that isn't... just folklore. The lights don't really care about time."
cw suicidal thoughts? actions?? inclinations???
(Yes he knows what a comb is, thanks. Yes indeed he does know how to use one. Thanks. But there's only so much energy at the end of a day, and only so much Tim can tolerate of dunking a cut-up, cleaned towel into warmish water to clean himself. Besides, his hair's grown out to longer than he's ever worn it-- maybe he'll scavenge a dead girl's room for a hair tie.)
"I'm sorry," he tries again. "I can't imagine being-"
and he stops, and he sighs, and he can imagine time travel, frankly; but his future starts and ends with him holding a gun to his head, so Tim treads carefully because
because.
"I don't know. I haven't found out how the Aurora makes its picks, or an explanation for what brought us here that isn't... just folklore. The lights don't really care about time."