A long moment of silence passed as Leonard considered Dent's words, the wheels in his head turning over and over as he tried to find something he could latch onto, something he'd said that could be understood. Maybe he had lost his mind, or he and this Jones were having some sort of shared hallucination induced by the layout of a room; maybe Dent was telling the absolute truth, and he really had been transported somehow to another area just by walking through a door. But how could he ever know what was real?
Leonard looked at his notes, his pen still resting on the paper, a blot of ink forming under the nib. He knew he could fully trust what he'd written and the photographs he carried: they were the only concrete evidence he had of his time in the institute and what he'd experienced. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean it never happened, even if it sounds incredible. He took a deep breath- the world didn't just disappear. He had to believe he could trust himself, even if he'd lost his own mind. There was no one else on his side.
He still faced a dilemma: take what Dent was saying with a grain of salt, or believe him for now. He wouldn't have time to think about it later and make sense of it- there was no later for someone with his condition. His eyes landed on his hand- Remember Sammy Jankis. He couldn't adjust. He didn't have a system.
After scribbling one more note to himself, he set his pen down, taking a bite of dry toast. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to handle such doubt. "I probably have this much doubt every time someone explains this place to me," he said with a shake of his head. "I know I can trust my notes- you learn your handwriting when you're like this, learn to look for clues and facts you've left yourself. It's just a hard pill to swallow, this being... really unbelievable."
no subject
Leonard looked at his notes, his pen still resting on the paper, a blot of ink forming under the nib. He knew he could fully trust what he'd written and the photographs he carried: they were the only concrete evidence he had of his time in the institute and what he'd experienced. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean it never happened, even if it sounds incredible. He took a deep breath- the world didn't just disappear. He had to believe he could trust himself, even if he'd lost his own mind. There was no one else on his side.
He still faced a dilemma: take what Dent was saying with a grain of salt, or believe him for now. He wouldn't have time to think about it later and make sense of it- there was no later for someone with his condition. His eyes landed on his hand- Remember Sammy Jankis. He couldn't adjust. He didn't have a system.
After scribbling one more note to himself, he set his pen down, taking a bite of dry toast. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to handle such doubt. "I probably have this much doubt every time someone explains this place to me," he said with a shake of his head. "I know I can trust my notes- you learn your handwriting when you're like this, learn to look for clues and facts you've left yourself. It's just a hard pill to swallow, this being... really unbelievable."