This is really all about Jack and how he sees himself. It's like he'd said - this was his weird bullshit. And it's just as nutso balls crazy as Steven's, just a lot more Lovecraft than Grimm.
But whatever, okay. He'll just...leave the door open when he goes to the bathroom mirror to do his post-day, pre-sex routine. He gets his shirt off and turns on the sink and grabs a bottle of the medicated cream he uses on his face. He'll just...ignore the fact that Steven is just a few feet away, he can turn his head and see him easily...
He focuses on the mirror instead, reaching up to pop the clasps of his mask in regular sequence - chin, sides, temples. He closes his eyes to peel it off...and there's that odd moment when it pulls away and the dull ache kicks in immediately. He only opens one eye when it's off, scowling at his own reflection in the mirror. He swears the brand in his face looks bigger every time he sees it. And yeah, the edges are looking raw and red from having the mask on so much lately.
"The true terrible horrors of space," Jack says, suddenly and without turning as he's rubbing the cream into his face, "are rare and far flung and mostly lurk in the deep dark places that humans would never, ever want to go. But not all of'em. The great old ones are out there, babe, and you just better thank whatever you do or don't believe in...that they're not here."
This is, apparently, all the explanation Steven is getting at this point in time.
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This is really all about Jack and how he sees himself. It's like he'd said - this was his weird bullshit. And it's just as nutso balls crazy as Steven's, just a lot more Lovecraft than Grimm.
But whatever, okay. He'll just...leave the door open when he goes to the bathroom mirror to do his post-day, pre-sex routine. He gets his shirt off and turns on the sink and grabs a bottle of the medicated cream he uses on his face. He'll just...ignore the fact that Steven is just a few feet away, he can turn his head and see him easily...
He focuses on the mirror instead, reaching up to pop the clasps of his mask in regular sequence - chin, sides, temples. He closes his eyes to peel it off...and there's that odd moment when it pulls away and the dull ache kicks in immediately. He only opens one eye when it's off, scowling at his own reflection in the mirror. He swears the brand in his face looks bigger every time he sees it. And yeah, the edges are looking raw and red from having the mask on so much lately.
"The true terrible horrors of space," Jack says, suddenly and without turning as he's rubbing the cream into his face, "are rare and far flung and mostly lurk in the deep dark places that humans would never, ever want to go. But not all of'em. The great old ones are out there, babe, and you just better thank whatever you do or don't believe in...that they're not here."
This is, apparently, all the explanation Steven is getting at this point in time.