[ Dextera is increasingly confusing him. Amos isn't trying to lecture him or persuade him or anything like that, it's just that now that he's actually talking to him for the first time — what feels like the first time for him, since the very first time he'd approached Dextera he'd hardly seen him as his own person (a common occurrence; nothing personal buddy) — he's beginning to understand the cavernous distance between them.
Which, okay, maybe some of that animosity makes a little more sense now. Either way. ]
It won't be the same even if you go back. You can't live in the past, that's why it's the past. You get there, and then what? You're gonna be moving forward no matter what. That's all there is.
[ The memory in the pool continues to play out in the background, but Amos is barely paying attention to it. It's something he cares enough to remember, a moment of familial love and bonding over a shared meal, but going back to that time wouldn't do anything. All he'd do is live in that moment a little longer, and then it would end, and he'd be on to the next thing, and the next, and the next, no matter what.
His voice dips, quieter, more thoughtful — more like he's speaking to himself rather than Dextera. ]
All any of us got is putting one foot in front of the other until we can't anymore.
no subject
[ Dextera is increasingly confusing him. Amos isn't trying to lecture him or persuade him or anything like that, it's just that now that he's actually talking to him for the first time — what feels like the first time for him, since the very first time he'd approached Dextera he'd hardly seen him as his own person (a common occurrence; nothing personal buddy) — he's beginning to understand the cavernous distance between them.
Which, okay, maybe some of that animosity makes a little more sense now. Either way. ]
It won't be the same even if you go back. You can't live in the past, that's why it's the past. You get there, and then what? You're gonna be moving forward no matter what. That's all there is.
[ The memory in the pool continues to play out in the background, but Amos is barely paying attention to it. It's something he cares enough to remember, a moment of familial love and bonding over a shared meal, but going back to that time wouldn't do anything. All he'd do is live in that moment a little longer, and then it would end, and he'd be on to the next thing, and the next, and the next, no matter what.
His voice dips, quieter, more thoughtful — more like he's speaking to himself rather than Dextera. ]
All any of us got is putting one foot in front of the other until we can't anymore.