Long takes in the motley picture the man makes with ill-concealed bemusement and bewilderment, taking a half-step back into his living room, which doesn't have half a wall missing and a bizarre violent lunatic standing in it and is on the whole a much more pleasant place to be.
There is a sort of twisted logic to the man's statement, he supposes, and exhales under his breath. Short of once more renewing hostilities-- and the tablet is still recording-- this is probably the only way to go about making the fellow leave.
"Yes, something bigger than the room," he confirms, his voice edged with irritation for the skepticism in the man's tone. "It was before your arrival, I think-- one moment--"
He disappears back into his living room, collecting his tablet from where he had indeed left it, and then reappears in the bedroom door. He's innately uncomfortable with discussing his own 'glitch' because, truth be told, he finds it all very humiliating. Not turning into a dragon, no. But the reminder that he is, instead, shackled in this body instead.
But in the first place, it is more or less a public record if one knows how to access the tablets, and in the second place, the skepticism grates on him. Long dislikes being considered a liar on those occasions when he is telling the truth.
A few taps on the tablet's screen and he manages to access the old logs of the transmissions, including that rather breath-taking image of this very hotel-- with the bulk of ninety feet of dragon draped down the exterior wall, having broken right through the building. He shoves the tablet at the man like an accusation.
"There. I assure you it is possible, here: many things which are absurd are possible here. I cannot claim to enjoy this, but our captors have a marvelously twisted sense of humour and apparent omnipotence. Pray that you do not wake up one morning to find you have become a literal splotch of ink upon a page."
no subject
There is a sort of twisted logic to the man's statement, he supposes, and exhales under his breath. Short of once more renewing hostilities-- and the tablet is still recording-- this is probably the only way to go about making the fellow leave.
"Yes, something bigger than the room," he confirms, his voice edged with irritation for the skepticism in the man's tone. "It was before your arrival, I think-- one moment--"
He disappears back into his living room, collecting his tablet from where he had indeed left it, and then reappears in the bedroom door. He's innately uncomfortable with discussing his own 'glitch' because, truth be told, he finds it all very humiliating. Not turning into a dragon, no. But the reminder that he is, instead, shackled in this body instead.
But in the first place, it is more or less a public record if one knows how to access the tablets, and in the second place, the skepticism grates on him. Long dislikes being considered a liar on those occasions when he is telling the truth.
A few taps on the tablet's screen and he manages to access the old logs of the transmissions, including that rather breath-taking image of this very hotel-- with the bulk of ninety feet of dragon draped down the exterior wall, having broken right through the building. He shoves the tablet at the man like an accusation.
"There. I assure you it is possible, here: many things which are absurd are possible here. I cannot claim to enjoy this, but our captors have a marvelously twisted sense of humour and apparent omnipotence. Pray that you do not wake up one morning to find you have become a literal splotch of ink upon a page."