[He knows. He knows what she means, but it's an awful predicament to be in. If he'd been able to find a way out of Silent Hill, he certainly would have, by now. He parts his lips, shaking his head back and forth wordlessly, before turning and glancing around the little cave.
There is a small bed in the corner; it's more like a tangle of dirty blankets than anything, but in this world, it qualifies as such. He makes his way toward it, covering himself up even as the crashing and crushing noises draw nearer.]
Maybe you can tell me a story, Heather. Help me sleep.
[Because he knows that if he can be at peace enough to fall asleep within a nightmare, he can make his way out of it. It's not logical, it's instinct, and though he's not certain how he knows, he is absolutely sure that this will help him escape.]
no subject
There is a small bed in the corner; it's more like a tangle of dirty blankets than anything, but in this world, it qualifies as such. He makes his way toward it, covering himself up even as the crashing and crushing noises draw nearer.]
Maybe you can tell me a story, Heather. Help me sleep.
[Because he knows that if he can be at peace enough to fall asleep within a nightmare, he can make his way out of it. It's not logical, it's instinct, and though he's not certain how he knows, he is absolutely sure that this will help him escape.]