She's avoiding the question, and he hates it when people do that. It doesn't matter how good the reason is. If he's asking, Bart wants to know now. Pulling away doesn't fill him with confidence, although locking him in with her is reassuring. Hayley is accepting the company, if not the offer.
Following her over to the couch, Bart takes a seat in the middle. At first, he's leaning forward as he listens, hunched over with elbows resting on splayed knees, to Hayley describe what's surely the lead-in to an interrogation scene. Straight out of a cheap spy novel, by someone who thinks he's the next Ian Fleming. No seatless chair and knotted rope?
He can't figure out what to make of this. She doesn't seem to have any concept of self preservation. He knows that it's the most hypocritical thought ever thunk, but Bart can't shake it. He wants to shake her. He has to settle for exhaling slowly through his teeth as he leans back onthe couch. There's no point in asking the universe what he did to deserve this. He knows.
"OK," he starts slowly, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to balance areyoucrazy with whathappened. As he goes on, he gesticulates as needed, waving his hands around and occasionally pointing. "You. Went and found your killer. You got him tied up and I am not asking how because plausible deniability. You wanted to hurt him. Didja?"
The slurred sentence and ceiling staring can't keep the weight out of the sentence. Up until that as-yet-unspoken answer, she has done nothing he wouldn't. Bart can't be sure what he would do in that situation. To be honest, he's afraid to imagine, but, as he's pretty sure his actions are going to go down in superhero training books as what not to do, doing as he would is the 'well intended yet ill planned' route.
Re: action
Following her over to the couch, Bart takes a seat in the middle. At first, he's leaning forward as he listens, hunched over with elbows resting on splayed knees, to Hayley describe what's surely the lead-in to an interrogation scene. Straight out of a cheap spy novel, by someone who thinks he's the next Ian Fleming. No seatless chair and knotted rope?
He can't figure out what to make of this. She doesn't seem to have any concept of self preservation. He knows that it's the most hypocritical thought ever thunk, but Bart can't shake it. He wants to shake her. He has to settle for exhaling slowly through his teeth as he leans back onthe couch. There's no point in asking the universe what he did to deserve this. He knows.
"OK," he starts slowly, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to balance areyoucrazy with whathappened. As he goes on, he gesticulates as needed, waving his hands around and occasionally pointing. "You. Went and found your killer. You got him tied up and I am not asking how because plausible deniability. You wanted to hurt him. Didja?"
The slurred sentence and ceiling staring can't keep the weight out of the sentence. Up until that as-yet-unspoken answer, she has done nothing he wouldn't. Bart can't be sure what he would do in that situation. To be honest, he's afraid to imagine, but, as he's pretty sure his actions are going to go down in superhero training books as what not to do, doing as he would is the 'well intended yet ill planned' route.