( It'll swiftly become apparent to Rhy that Jack isn't just on a sleepless midnight walk. Kind of the opposite, actually, in at least one way. He's standing stock-still at a T intersection. He looks neither left nor right, just straight ahead, or perhaps a little down toward the floor. Arms hanging heavy by his sides, chin dipped gently. Eyes open, but they keep flickering periodically — the briefest snatches of what should probably be happening under closed eyelids if he were in REM sleep.
And then, quite suddenly, the sound of trickling water fills the otherwise silent corridor. Subtle at first, barely a drip, but steadily louder.
Before them, water begins to flow along that T-intersection like a slowly burbling creek. Incrementally more, from a barely-there trickle to a constant, heavy flow, until it's practically a small stream. Jack stands there a few feet from it as though he's on the edge of the shore, watching the water flow. )
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And then, quite suddenly, the sound of trickling water fills the otherwise silent corridor. Subtle at first, barely a drip, but steadily louder.
Before them, water begins to flow along that T-intersection like a slowly burbling creek. Incrementally more, from a barely-there trickle to a constant, heavy flow, until it's practically a small stream. Jack stands there a few feet from it as though he's on the edge of the shore, watching the water flow. )