10-18-2013, 09:25 AM
It was a rare day when Jensen met the eyes of another man and didn't find an excuse to pull his collar, shift his gaze, and focus elsewhere. Quite different behavior for a man who was once famous for balancing compassion with the directness of harsh truths. Uttering what his beloved cringed to hear tore him up inside, yet he believed in the duty of his pastoral calling, and often erred on the side of doing what needed to be done. Yet here, John's door opened, and he found himself shaking hands with the man and locking onto his gaze unabashed. The last two days of anticipation welled into this moment, and as he crossed the threshold, Jensen realized he was far less stressed than he thought he would be. In fact, he was excited. Something has to be wrong about this, he thought. If anyone were an expert in self-doubt, it was him.
Jensen studied the environment swirling around John. Indeed it did seem to be swirling chaos. Yet somehow it was an ordered chaos. Books were haphazardly stacked, but also arranged, perhaps with respect to theme or chronology. Tablets and scrolls littered most surfaces, including the floor here and there, but were still protected from the elements. Despite John's apologetic explanation, Jensen twinged with offense. Not personally, of course, but he'd expected a man on John's level to be more reverant with his priceless antiquities. From his own collection, Jensen only his beloved Book remained, but he cherished it. Likely because he assumed he would never again buy another, and there was significance to holding the weight of a Bible in one's hands not transferred to electronic versions.
In all there was to see in the room, the soft gleam of metal, out of place, caught his eye. The presence of a weapon gave him pause. The study didn't linger long, Jensen was a true born Texan himself, birthed and raised outside Wichita Falls, and he understood all geniuses were eccentric, but he disagreed with the appropriateness of carrying a weapon around. Protection was one thing, but men of God should put their faith in Him rather than trust to shields built by violence.
Then again, a man who could slaughter others by mere thought alone probably shouldn't judge.
The seat was comfortable enough, but in true gentlemanly fashion, he accepted the offered drink even though he was not thirsty, and sat in anticipation that John would not do likewise until his guest was served.
He lifted his glass and nodded a repeat of their former greeting. "Thank-you for having me, John," he drawled. John's accent was far less pronounced than his own. Probably an after-effect of the two dozen languages the man spoke. John was a walking Tower of Babel. Oh how much simpler things would have been if the world knew only one language.
"I apologize again for interrupting you at MSU, what with you being on your way out the door and all." Jensen set the drink aside to unbutton his jacket. He kept himself right on the edge of comfortable without being informal. Taking off one's jacket without invitation was almost as grave an offense in his parent's household as doffing one's socks and shoes and kicking back right there on the couch. "So I appreciate the chance to continue our conversation."
He took a glance around, "It looks like you have quite the collection," but his eyes were inevitably drawn toward the place he originally saw the firearm. "It must be quite the task to gather it all. I would not have thought work such as yours would be so dangerous."
Jensen studied the environment swirling around John. Indeed it did seem to be swirling chaos. Yet somehow it was an ordered chaos. Books were haphazardly stacked, but also arranged, perhaps with respect to theme or chronology. Tablets and scrolls littered most surfaces, including the floor here and there, but were still protected from the elements. Despite John's apologetic explanation, Jensen twinged with offense. Not personally, of course, but he'd expected a man on John's level to be more reverant with his priceless antiquities. From his own collection, Jensen only his beloved Book remained, but he cherished it. Likely because he assumed he would never again buy another, and there was significance to holding the weight of a Bible in one's hands not transferred to electronic versions.
In all there was to see in the room, the soft gleam of metal, out of place, caught his eye. The presence of a weapon gave him pause. The study didn't linger long, Jensen was a true born Texan himself, birthed and raised outside Wichita Falls, and he understood all geniuses were eccentric, but he disagreed with the appropriateness of carrying a weapon around. Protection was one thing, but men of God should put their faith in Him rather than trust to shields built by violence.
Then again, a man who could slaughter others by mere thought alone probably shouldn't judge.
The seat was comfortable enough, but in true gentlemanly fashion, he accepted the offered drink even though he was not thirsty, and sat in anticipation that John would not do likewise until his guest was served.
He lifted his glass and nodded a repeat of their former greeting. "Thank-you for having me, John," he drawled. John's accent was far less pronounced than his own. Probably an after-effect of the two dozen languages the man spoke. John was a walking Tower of Babel. Oh how much simpler things would have been if the world knew only one language.
"I apologize again for interrupting you at MSU, what with you being on your way out the door and all." Jensen set the drink aside to unbutton his jacket. He kept himself right on the edge of comfortable without being informal. Taking off one's jacket without invitation was almost as grave an offense in his parent's household as doffing one's socks and shoes and kicking back right there on the couch. "So I appreciate the chance to continue our conversation."
He took a glance around, "It looks like you have quite the collection," but his eyes were inevitably drawn toward the place he originally saw the firearm. "It must be quite the task to gather it all. I would not have thought work such as yours would be so dangerous."