No, he was wrong, thinks Johannes sourly: apparently Horst does want to watch him squirm.
He takes the glass, though, and has a sip anyway as he thinks. At least he's gotten all of his outward astonishment over with for the evening, he supposes, and this is hardly the first time in his life he's had to deal with his brother's goddamned scrutiny. Story of his goddamned life. Horst wants to talk about something. Horst wants to talk about their feelings. Horst wants to talk about the moral implications of what they're doing. Horst wants to talk about the weather.
You're supposed to be happy to see your dead loved one again. Or you're supposed to be unhappy. Or you're supposed to be indifferent. Or some other option that makes sense, and which you can sort out, remotely, at all.
Johannes makes a concerted study of the bottom of his glass, like it's become suddenly interesting. "What are you looking to hear from me?" he says. "I'm sorry? I think I may have made a poor choice or two somewhere along the line? In retrospect I might like the chance to reconsider one or two of those decisions? What else do you think I'm going to say? 'I've got my soul back, so really, overall I think I came out ahead there?"
He takes another drink and transfers his attention to the cobblestones. "Look, I know it hasn't been--long for you, but--" he trails off, not sure where to go with that. Lovely. A heart-to-heart. Just what he needed. I'm alive, you're alive, can't we just...? But clearly they can't.
Johannes sighs and re-starts, "If you're worried that I've been on a merry campaign of mass murder and soul-stealing since you've been gone, I can assure you it's not the case."
[location]
He takes the glass, though, and has a sip anyway as he thinks. At least he's gotten all of his outward astonishment over with for the evening, he supposes, and this is hardly the first time in his life he's had to deal with his brother's goddamned scrutiny. Story of his goddamned life. Horst wants to talk about something. Horst wants to talk about their feelings. Horst wants to talk about the moral implications of what they're doing. Horst wants to talk about the weather.
You're supposed to be happy to see your dead loved one again. Or you're supposed to be unhappy. Or you're supposed to be indifferent. Or some other option that makes sense, and which you can sort out, remotely, at all.
Johannes makes a concerted study of the bottom of his glass, like it's become suddenly interesting. "What are you looking to hear from me?" he says. "I'm sorry? I think I may have made a poor choice or two somewhere along the line? In retrospect I might like the chance to reconsider one or two of those decisions? What else do you think I'm going to say? 'I've got my soul back, so really, overall I think I came out ahead there?"
He takes another drink and transfers his attention to the cobblestones. "Look, I know it hasn't been--long for you, but--" he trails off, not sure where to go with that. Lovely. A heart-to-heart. Just what he needed. I'm alive, you're alive, can't we just...? But clearly they can't.
Johannes sighs and re-starts, "If you're worried that I've been on a merry campaign of mass murder and soul-stealing since you've been gone, I can assure you it's not the case."