Grabbing the chair, Damien slides it over, and once it's close enough for his comfort, does, in fact, sit. He takes a moment following, to get comfortable, to stretch his bad leg out, and -- well, all the while, he's trying to decide whether or not he actually wants to admit to owning anything here. The time it takes him to settle is a good cover for that pause, for him doing the math.
On one hand, he doesn't want to give anything up directly, even if there's seemingly nothing to gain from keeping it to himself. People might start asking uncomfortable questions, if he tells them that the Merlaut is from his world, like what the place means to him, and he's not ready to get into that. It wouldn't be hard to lie by omission about it, if and when he's asked, like he has every other personal question anyone has asked of him, but the Merlaut is -- something else. The Merlaut was the beginning of the end, where his life fucking fell apart, thanks to Aiden fucking Pearce, and he really doesn't want to get into that, skirting the truth or otherwise.
On the other, though, it's just a hotel, and it might cost him more, in the long run, to deliberately, directly fail to mention it's from his world, if and when someone finds out. Sure, he could claim he hadn't seen it, later, maybe, but -- no. No, even if Bowser hasn't seen him there, other people have, and he doesn't want to get himself caught in that lie, later. It might make the others doubt everything he's said, so far, and then the whole house of cards he's building, here, falls apart.
That in mind, then, and once he seems to have found a comfortable position in his seat, he glances back to the door, then answers, "That building up on the cliffs near the lake? The Merlaut? It's half mine. It's a hotel in Chicago -- where I'm from." He pauses, pressing his mouth into a thin, sour line. "All the similarities stop outside of the lobby, though." The rooms inside, with the whatever-it-is in the sink, are not his, thank you.
no subject
On one hand, he doesn't want to give anything up directly, even if there's seemingly nothing to gain from keeping it to himself. People might start asking uncomfortable questions, if he tells them that the Merlaut is from his world, like what the place means to him, and he's not ready to get into that. It wouldn't be hard to lie by omission about it, if and when he's asked, like he has every other personal question anyone has asked of him, but the Merlaut is -- something else. The Merlaut was the beginning of the end, where his life fucking fell apart, thanks to Aiden fucking Pearce, and he really doesn't want to get into that, skirting the truth or otherwise.
On the other, though, it's just a hotel, and it might cost him more, in the long run, to deliberately, directly fail to mention it's from his world, if and when someone finds out. Sure, he could claim he hadn't seen it, later, maybe, but -- no. No, even if Bowser hasn't seen him there, other people have, and he doesn't want to get himself caught in that lie, later. It might make the others doubt everything he's said, so far, and then the whole house of cards he's building, here, falls apart.
That in mind, then, and once he seems to have found a comfortable position in his seat, he glances back to the door, then answers, "That building up on the cliffs near the lake? The Merlaut? It's half mine. It's a hotel in Chicago -- where I'm from." He pauses, pressing his mouth into a thin, sour line. "All the similarities stop outside of the lobby, though." The rooms inside, with the whatever-it-is in the sink, are not his, thank you.