"Don't doubt the almost pathological hatred of my great aunt?" Emmet told Jasper, glancing back over his shoulder to look at his younger self again, trying to commit the younger man into his memory, trying to sear the image of the tired, hunched man into his brain. He hadn't spent much time back then on his appearance, nor on the state of his health other than the recovery of his own immediate and obvious injuries, unwisely in hindsight but still an improvement over sitting there and doing nothing in a depressive state, but the gauntness of his younger self's face, the haunted look in the other man's eyes, wasn't the most striking feature on display. It was how small he was. His younger self was hunched over, always keeping one hand on at least one surface, whether it be a table, wall, or even Jasper before, and he was always looked on the ground. Even before, when the two of them had spoken, his younger self had never, not even once on the most brief of occa
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