[ The scene playing out in the street would most likely be comical if the elements at work (fear and death and obsession) were not so inclined to spell tragedy. Still, the sentiment just expressed to him is so obscenely ridiculous and random that Nigel cannot help but laugh. A hand coming to cover his mouth as he does so, breath pluming up out of his fingers, the sound of it is decidedly not as alien as the Black Dog's laugh. Not a bark, not a growl, just a laugh. Almost charming in its boyishness as the corners of his eyes crinkle.
To Nigel it's a strange thing to do, to laugh. Only Jack ever seemed to manage it properly from him, and yet. ]
you cannot map the ways of divinity;
To Nigel it's a strange thing to do, to laugh. Only Jack ever seemed to manage it properly from him, and yet. ]
I beg your pardon? We've only just met.