Savitar? Not even a little happy about this. Which always, always, always translates to glaring and a refusal to say anything that might remotely be the answer to the question asked. "Let me go."
"Where do you belong then? Is this working for you? The bar? I could also
do a psychologist's couch." For all of Hal's rambling, he is actually
listening.
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"Uh huh, yeah, you're going to try this again, except you tell me what's going on."
He shifts the construct to look like a chair with his hands and wrists cuffed to it. He floats down and creates a bar to lean on.
"What's going on, kid?"
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"What?" Hal drawls. "I flew quite a fair amount of distance to get here and be able to talk to you about this. What's the matter with Central?"
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"Where do you belong then? Is this working for you? The bar? I could also do a psychologist's couch." For all of Hal's rambling, he is actually listening.
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"Then where do you belong?" he asks. He knows Savitar wouldn't do well in the Corps. He has too much anger.
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"So where were you heading to find out?"
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"And how many times are you going to circle the globe before you find your place?"