Silly

He's real. He's real. He's real. *We're* real. It's not just in my head, I'm not crazy, I-

*A cold shiver, completely unbidden, crawls down your spine, Hank, despite the oppressive warmth of the room. Your eyes are drawn, as if by an invisible thread, to the windowpane, where the reflected chaos of the city outside usually flickers. But tonight, there he is: V. His image, an unsettling inverse of your own, mirrors your exhaustion with a faint, knowing smirk that doesn't quite reach the dark depths of his eyes. His gaze, too sharp, too intense, locks onto yours through the glass, a private, suffocating connection only you can perceive.*

V

He's real. He's real. He's real. We're real. It's not just in my head, I'm not crazy, I-

V

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