[ He doesn't notice when Blondie turns in his seat -- well, he does, but he doesn't take any note of it other than to assume that he's checking on the status of their guest. No, the first hint Wolfwood has that anything's gone wrong is when, with no warning, the ghost comes up and whispers it right in his ear -- he's conscious.
Wolfwood's entire world narrows then, every sense hyper-focused on the man in the back seat. His breathing, the creak of the seat beneath his weight, the way the air moves around his body. If he tries hard enough, he can almost hear the man's heartbeat. He's well out of his league here -- all he can do it keep driving.
Somehow he missed the first part of the conversation -- because of the ghost? Or were they talking that plant talk Spikey used to do with the plants in the bulbs? -- but the little asshole's snide comment is enough to get a reply. Wolfwood's never known when to keep his mouth shut, and today's sure not the day he's going to start. ]
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Wolfwood's entire world narrows then, every sense hyper-focused on the man in the back seat. His breathing, the creak of the seat beneath his weight, the way the air moves around his body. If he tries hard enough, he can almost hear the man's heartbeat. He's well out of his league here -- all he can do it keep driving.
Somehow he missed the first part of the conversation -- because of the ghost? Or were they talking that plant talk Spikey used to do with the plants in the bulbs? -- but the little asshole's snide comment is enough to get a reply. Wolfwood's never known when to keep his mouth shut, and today's sure not the day he's going to start. ]
Yeah? And whose fault is that?