you are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world
Finn raises his eyebrows at that; he has imagined Remi as a number of things, his mind twisting and conjuring to suit its own whims, but low class has never been one of them. A pensive sort of smile curls the corners of his lips, and the Alchemist’s little room comes to life behind his eyes as well, though he obviously does not have the benefit of memory. It, too, is cluttered but clean in Finn’s mind, with all manner of inventions covering the space. Further details are added once Remi clarifies - explosives, telescopes, diagrams of the constellations, that sort of thing.
”It sounds like quite a quaint existence,” he says, with a small hint of envy under the words. There’s silence, then - a consideration, a held breath. And then, ”My parents lived a comfortable enough life, as far as I remember. But I was orphaned very young, and ended up on the streets for a time. Between alleyways, workhouses and the odd bedsit, the floor becomes an adequate enough place to sleep. You get used to it - I would have probably sold my bed as well.”
”It sounds like quite a quaint existence,” he says, with a small hint of envy under the words. There’s silence, then - a consideration, a held breath. And then, ”My parents lived a comfortable enough life, as far as I remember. But I was orphaned very young, and ended up on the streets for a time. Between alleyways, workhouses and the odd bedsit, the floor becomes an adequate enough place to sleep. You get used to it - I would have probably sold my bed as well.”
and that, I believe
is why you are in so much pain
FINN
