So it is done

Dissimilarities

Finding a suitable gift for Neo was easy enough – any sweets would do, though she greatly preferred ice cream. She would also be happy with clothes, jewelry, magazines, gadgets and many other things that were difficult to find in the gift shop.

Choosing gifts for Cinder was much more difficult.

No, Jonathan had no doubt that Cinder would accept any gift he gives with gratitude, he puts his feet down on giving her any of his second hand clothes though, no matter how many times she asks. Any gifts Jonathan bought for her would be the 'perfect' one – and she would either use it all the time or place it prominently in her room. But, as Jonathan had noticed, the only ones that brought her real joy were books. And finding a book that Cinder hadn't already read, and that would suit her tastes, was problematic.

As problematic as finding something like 'Traditional Poisons of Vacuo' in a souvenir shop. Why the owner would display it, is easily explained by the bestseller plaque next to it. And why a book about poisons was a bestseller can be easily explained as it's Vacuo.

So, discounting his strange finds, Jonathan spent all his time browsing the racks and chatting with Scarlett, almost ceasing to pay attention to the itching thoughts inside him.

Almost.

Paying for his purchases, and picking up the souvenirs he'd bought for his family, Jonathan headed off back to his hotel, coincidentally the same one as Scarlett's, almost oblivious to the awareness that clung to his mind like a tick.

Almost.

He was almost used to not offering his help to old people or women trying to carry bulky and heavy purchases. His status was partly to blame, but his condition was much more to blame. If he had offered to help the random passersby – his swaying figure, unable to walk even a dozen steps properly, would have just made the whole situation awkward. Fighting the urge to offer his help, only for Scarlett to do it instead, almost distracted him from his thoughts.

Almost.

Upon reaching the hotel, Jonathan separated ways with Scarlett, her going to hit the bed now that the sun was not so bright and hot that sleep was impossible. Jonathan was tactful enough not to ask Scarlett why she was so tired this early. Scarlett's exuberant parting and the mystery was almost enough to distract Jonathan.

Almost, almost, almost – Jonathan, how much longer? Almost lost, almost dead, almost King – how long are we going to stomp dither on 'almost'?

When Scarlett disappeared behind the hotel stairs, Jonathan was left alone with himself again. With nothing more to distract him, almost immediately, the corners of his lips slowly began to lower, and his gaze, as if beckoned by someone else's hand, strayed into the distance.

No one is arguing that each case is unique and should be evaluated separately, but don't you think it should at least be evaluated? You've made so many, so many decisions – bad decisions, Jonathan. Bad, but they're the right ones, aren't they?

Jonathan wanted a drink – but his body just couldn't process alcohol properly now, even one mug of beer would prove disastrous.

So, barring any other distraction, all Jonathan could do was turn around and slowly head back to the city, watching as it gradually began to wake up from its slumber. It was as if the previous ghost town were a mirage, as people seemed to appear from under the sand and the narrow, crooked streets. The streets were filling up with life.

Passers-by appear, and as fitting for Vacuo, they were as unique as they come, if in appearance at least.

One is with a face disfigured by scars, a gun on his belt to discourage any desire to bicker with the walker.