He tenses at the mention of Halloween, at the rings of gunshots which pass through his memory, the faces of his parents newly etched there. It's a funny thing, memory. Even now, he's not entirely sure if everything that he saw came from years past, or if he's now starting to make up little details to fit into the crevices. Memory lies. It's one of the only things that lies so readily still to Sawyer that he can't tell the truth from it.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, surveying her from behind a knit brow. "Don't think Halloween was much good for anyone, but still, ain't glad to hear that you had..."
Nightmares? Well, she never really specified, Sawyer figures, so he quiets down and rubs at his forehead, trying to process the rest of what she says, a worn boot heel tapping against the ground, not loud enough to be heard so much as felt. Maybe the problem, the reason for the disconnect, Sawyer figures, is because he's never had very many chances at starting over. Something always gets in the goddamn way.
"It doesn't entirely make sense, but I ain't gonna dispute it," he decides at last with a gentle smile.
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Date: 2011-01-12 02:31 am (UTC)"I'm sorry," he says quietly, surveying her from behind a knit brow. "Don't think Halloween was much good for anyone, but still, ain't glad to hear that you had..."
Nightmares? Well, she never really specified, Sawyer figures, so he quiets down and rubs at his forehead, trying to process the rest of what she says, a worn boot heel tapping against the ground, not loud enough to be heard so much as felt. Maybe the problem, the reason for the disconnect, Sawyer figures, is because he's never had very many chances at starting over. Something always gets in the goddamn way.
"It doesn't entirely make sense, but I ain't gonna dispute it," he decides at last with a gentle smile.