True. We can regret the past all day, but damn. There'd be no point.
Moping won't protect us from the threats to come. The threats we'll also have to protect innocents from.
As a doctor, you must know what I mean. Despite appearances, you've probably seen more death than we have.
[ It's almost flippant, the way he says it, but he believes there's no dancing around such subjects. Treating such things delicately, he finds, does a disservice to their magnitude. Their gravity. And though Eddie's addressing Angela, he feels no need to prolong any stares. His eyes are pointed to his side's window, watching city become forest. The woods grow denser, darker even, as the vehicle progresses, Eddie trusting Angela's familiarity with these winding paths. A trust, of course, grounded in their bond. He doesn't have to know, intellectually, what she's planning. He can already feel it. ]
The only way out is through.
[ That's all he musters in response to Angela's explanation - her talk of "purpose" and "care." Invoking the Hippocratic Oath without needing to spell it out. From Eddie's perspective, Angela seems to speak more for her own edification than his, and he can't blame her. This is her first exposure to the symbiote, her only beginning to grasp what Eddie's been grappling with for god knows how many years. And despite his experience, he's unsure what more to offer as a word of comfort. There's no way to really countenance the experience of being Venom, verbally... it just has to continue being experienced. Being felt. ]
If it's all the same to you, Doc...
[ He opens the truck door on his side and steps down, dropping down from the elevated height of the truck car to hit the dirt. ]
...could use some fresh air.
It's pretty quaint here, right? Almost pastoral, if not for the scars.
[ Some of the countryside that they passed was postcard worthy, but Eddie couldn't help feeling a distinct emptiness on the way here. Was that a symptom of a sympathetic tendency in the symbiote, or a symptom of his history in journalism-- his mind trained to spot trauma beneath the surface of things? At the very least, he knows it's trauma that's made its home in certain places, that needn't be seen to be felt. Places that have seen war, unrest, calamity... stuff that's made Eddie feel powerless and small, no matter his desire to disseminate the truth.
And then, of course, along came Venom. ]
Are you okay?
[ Angela's reticence isn't lost on him. Nor on the symbiote. It is, in fact, the symbiote who brought it to his attention. ]
Dumb question, I know. Just sounds to us like you might need some care, too.
no subject
Moping won't protect us from the threats to come. The threats we'll also have to protect innocents from.
As a doctor, you must know what I mean. Despite appearances, you've probably seen more death than we have.
[ It's almost flippant, the way he says it, but he believes there's no dancing around such subjects. Treating such things delicately, he finds, does a disservice to their magnitude. Their gravity. And though Eddie's addressing Angela, he feels no need to prolong any stares. His eyes are pointed to his side's window, watching city become forest. The woods grow denser, darker even, as the vehicle progresses, Eddie trusting Angela's familiarity with these winding paths. A trust, of course, grounded in their bond. He doesn't have to know, intellectually, what she's planning. He can already feel it. ]
The only way out is through.
[ That's all he musters in response to Angela's explanation - her talk of "purpose" and "care." Invoking the Hippocratic Oath without needing to spell it out. From Eddie's perspective, Angela seems to speak more for her own edification than his, and he can't blame her. This is her first exposure to the symbiote, her only beginning to grasp what Eddie's been grappling with for god knows how many years. And despite his experience, he's unsure what more to offer as a word of comfort. There's no way to really countenance the experience of being Venom, verbally... it just has to continue being experienced. Being felt. ]
If it's all the same to you, Doc...
[ He opens the truck door on his side and steps down, dropping down from the elevated height of the truck car to hit the dirt. ]
...could use some fresh air.
It's pretty quaint here, right? Almost pastoral, if not for the scars.
[ Some of the countryside that they passed was postcard worthy, but Eddie couldn't help feeling a distinct emptiness on the way here. Was that a symptom of a sympathetic tendency in the symbiote, or a symptom of his history in journalism-- his mind trained to spot trauma beneath the surface of things? At the very least, he knows it's trauma that's made its home in certain places, that needn't be seen to be felt. Places that have seen war, unrest, calamity... stuff that's made Eddie feel powerless and small, no matter his desire to disseminate the truth.
And then, of course, along came Venom. ]
Are you okay?
[ Angela's reticence isn't lost on him. Nor on the symbiote. It is, in fact, the symbiote who brought it to his attention. ]
Dumb question, I know. Just sounds to us like you might need some care, too.