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He does not like the chair in the living room.
The apartment came pre-furnished. He’d never had any reason to care if the furniture was comfortable. A bed was a luxury he’d learned, and if there was one of those it was more than enough. Running water and functioning gas for the stove? Those were things to be grateful for each morning you got up.
A furnished space was a luxury that Wise sometimes afforded him as necessary for the mission. But in the gaps between the missions where he could write off the price of an apartment, fully furnished, he didn’t bother with more than the necessities.
And he certainly didn’t care if those necessities were comfortable or not.
Yor and Anya haven’t mentioned it. Although he was normally the one who sat in it. The seat was a little too long and the whole set was a little too low so his knees always sat above the chair and he couldn’t get the proper support for his back before his knees hit the edge of the chair. He wasn’t about to start putting his feet on the coffee table.
But it was fine. Besides if Yor and Anya hadn’t mentioned that they didn’t like it and neither of them had realized that he didn’t either- they both could be terrifyingly perceptive at times- then clearly it wasn’t important.
Beyond the furniture to make a space seem used and the decorations to make it not off-putting to a potential mark, there was no point in any of it. Loid Forger didn’t care, he was a single father who had his hands full with Anya. As a well-paid doctor he’d have thrown money at the issue to avoid dealing with hauling furniture and designing a space. Especially since he could barely keep a handle on Anya.
The furniture was nice enough. The room came together and no one would judge Loid- or perhaps more accurately given the current state of things- Yor for her homemaking abilities.
Given how little she’d brought into the home, he doubted there was much in her previous apartment. Not much to bring or leave behind. That was how he'd lived too.
So it would be him who had to furnish it better. If he had suddenly decided he cared to.
Which, why would he?
Twilight was not a man who thought in months or years. Decades. Even on long missions like this, his goals were often measured in days or weeks. Most missions- hours or minutes. Often enough in seconds.
Dr. Gorey glares down at Loid Forgers six-month review paper. The other doctors on the evaluation committee smile at him warmly. He already knows they’ve given him full marks and that he’s been cleared to stay on permanently. It wasn’t even a question really.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” The head of the department asks, when Gorey fails to.
Statistically? In five years, Twilight will likely be dead. Having met the most foolish of ends. If he is lucky his body will never be recovered. No one will pull names or evidence from his corpse. Midnight is a rarity amongst the spies- having made it to old age. Ideally, he does too. But he does not expect to.
Logically? Loid Forger will be dead. Whether or not Twilight is. They are making progress towards Desmond and his circle. Perhaps it becomes a long-term monitoring position. One Loid must maintain in a constant ebb and flow to diffuse the man. Forger did already have a strong pool of contacts. It would be a shame to abandon them all now-
A shame. What is he doing?
Forger answers the committee’s questions in ways that make them happy. “I hope to have finished this aspect of my research and have the opportunity to apply it more practically. Helping patients directly. I can’t imagine not being able to help people directly to some extent. Being on the front lines with patients helps me remember what it’s all for.”
Worrying about an accent chair he doesn’t like.
It’s not as if it would be hard to replace it. The apartment had storage for items you didn’t want. He’d set up Anya’s room and topped the apartment with enough things to make it feel like a home. Swapping out the couch and chairs wouldn’t be hard. Or find other chairs that fit the room- which would be easier to fit into the budget than replacing the entire set. That wasn’t unreasonable.
One afternoon. An ‘ooting’ to a furniture store. They could pick out one together and Anya would want to jump on all the couches and he’d have to tell her not to. She'd get lost in a bean bag chair and the cushions of a too fluffy couch that reminded them all of Bond but would be a nightmare to clean. Yor would want something black or red. Which was fine, all he wanted was something comfortable to sit in at the end of a long day.
Which was why it was so ridiculous. Why did he care if the chair was comfortable at the end of a long day if he wasn’t going to be there to use it?
Why make a place cozy when next week it would be gone?
“What’s the point in that?” One of his patients asks him. His eyes are burned out and muscle memory tells him, if they were on the front still, Twilight would be pulling a gun from this man’s mouth in the next few days. “Starting a book or show or a painting- what’s the point? I won’t be here long enough to see it done.”
“That’s why you must Thomas. Because having something to look forward to will help you ride out these waves. When it gets too much. You’ll know you have to wait at least until morning when the newspaper arrives to read your comic strip or until Tuesday when the next episode airs. Those little things will see you through it. Until you can love the concept of having a 'tomorrow' again. Because you can’t leave a painting half done.”
You can’t leave a child half raised.
He wants a better chair. Wants one that is comfortable to sit in. To doze in. He wants to doze in chairs again while the news or cartoons play.
If he looks any closer he will see it is not about the chair. He can’t- He cant. Don't look.
It’s about wanting a tomorrow and a next week and a next month and years. He wants years.
And he wants to be comfortable for them. Not always halfway out of the chair.
He wants to be with them.
For a future he never planned to have.