09-26-2013, 05:58 AM
Confusion transitioned quickly to horror.
John was a fellow Texan. His own accent was mixed with the southern landscape and hinted at the coast as powerfully as the scent of the Gulf itself wafting inland. Not only did John wield the accent, but he uttered the dialect as only a local would.
Jensen forced himself to answer. Silence would only draw more suspicion. If John hadn't put two and two together yet, he was bound to any moment. "I grew up outside Wichita Falls," he replied, though the family transitioned to DFW early in his childhood.
Thankfully, John abandoned the line of thought in lieu of a raincheck. Or else, he had connected the dots and couldn't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a--whatever monster Jensen was.
As soon as John's brush-off began, Jensen glazed over, subconsciously numb and hardened to the man's advice. The verse from Romans shot a flaming arrow through his memory, but Jensen's acknowledgement was only an academic realization that John was definitely not advocating the doctrine of Free Will--that justification could be revoked by rejection. There was a time when Jensen didn't either, but after everything that happened, it was hard to ignore the possibility that a man could simply reject grace. A gift, that once rejected, left you to the hell he so craved no matter how repentant he became in the future.
His jaw clenched with the sudden uprising of such defensiveness. John had no right to tell him what he did and didn't believe, but that didn't mean he was so cold-hearted as to be unwilling to assist; especially after offering in the first place. If not for his own sake, then for Katya's--the young lady desperately in need of the Light.
"There is a young lady in my building whom I suspect knows more about computers than she should," he pictured the way she'd shown herself around the breaker boxes. Jensen offered John the address, but he could provide no surname or apartment number for the young lady. Short of knocking on doors, he wasn't sure how John might track her down, but anyone with a decent search engine should be able to hone in. Maybe she had a website? A legitimate business would do her some good, likely. At least keep her off the streets. And out of the basement.
Of course, this meant that by sharing Katya's address he also shared his own, and at the last minute, he added his own apartment number and eText number. Two days from now Jensen's shift started back up: four-nights on, three-nights off, which meant any time with John was going to be either extremely exhausting or too short to glean much. He wasn't comfortable with the man simply stopping by, but he saw little other choice.
After John left, the hum of university students hurrying around him loomed larger than ever. After the brief touch with civilization once more, he realized just how alone he was -- which was, of course, exactly what he wanted. Right?
A glance behind him was followed by a sigh. Rather than going back inside, he made for the metro station.
John was a fellow Texan. His own accent was mixed with the southern landscape and hinted at the coast as powerfully as the scent of the Gulf itself wafting inland. Not only did John wield the accent, but he uttered the dialect as only a local would.
Jensen forced himself to answer. Silence would only draw more suspicion. If John hadn't put two and two together yet, he was bound to any moment. "I grew up outside Wichita Falls," he replied, though the family transitioned to DFW early in his childhood.
Thankfully, John abandoned the line of thought in lieu of a raincheck. Or else, he had connected the dots and couldn't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a--whatever monster Jensen was.
As soon as John's brush-off began, Jensen glazed over, subconsciously numb and hardened to the man's advice. The verse from Romans shot a flaming arrow through his memory, but Jensen's acknowledgement was only an academic realization that John was definitely not advocating the doctrine of Free Will--that justification could be revoked by rejection. There was a time when Jensen didn't either, but after everything that happened, it was hard to ignore the possibility that a man could simply reject grace. A gift, that once rejected, left you to the hell he so craved no matter how repentant he became in the future.
His jaw clenched with the sudden uprising of such defensiveness. John had no right to tell him what he did and didn't believe, but that didn't mean he was so cold-hearted as to be unwilling to assist; especially after offering in the first place. If not for his own sake, then for Katya's--the young lady desperately in need of the Light.
"There is a young lady in my building whom I suspect knows more about computers than she should," he pictured the way she'd shown herself around the breaker boxes. Jensen offered John the address, but he could provide no surname or apartment number for the young lady. Short of knocking on doors, he wasn't sure how John might track her down, but anyone with a decent search engine should be able to hone in. Maybe she had a website? A legitimate business would do her some good, likely. At least keep her off the streets. And out of the basement.
Of course, this meant that by sharing Katya's address he also shared his own, and at the last minute, he added his own apartment number and eText number. Two days from now Jensen's shift started back up: four-nights on, three-nights off, which meant any time with John was going to be either extremely exhausting or too short to glean much. He wasn't comfortable with the man simply stopping by, but he saw little other choice.
After John left, the hum of university students hurrying around him loomed larger than ever. After the brief touch with civilization once more, he realized just how alone he was -- which was, of course, exactly what he wanted. Right?
A glance behind him was followed by a sigh. Rather than going back inside, he made for the metro station.