John stands by the reflecting waters, the dog lying at his feet, patiently waiting. The pond is something close to normal. He could almost believe he was back in New York, in a park or by the Hudson. It makes more sense to him than the rest of this city...
He didn't believe. He'd said as much to Caine. In his heart of hearts, he didn't believe that the dead carried on somehow. But he'd also said maybe he was wrong.
More wrong than he knew, apparently. At least he wasn't alone.
An image begins to take shape in the waters; John is standing by the Hudson River, on a winter's evening. He can see the Brooklyn Bridge and the lights across the river. He knows this evening. Helen is in his arms, and they're kissing. This was after they married, less than a year after leaving the Tarasovs. The dog's head raises curiously, looking down at the water, not understanding what he's seeing, but it confirms to John at least this isn't in his head.
He's here, and she's still gone. "...Helen." It's all he can think to say as the memory of a husband and wife happy together plays in the waters in front of him.
Skyracing
Later in the evening, John's path eventually winds its way to The Fountain, though he doesn't really know why. He's not here to dance or party; these kinds of establishments have never been his scene, even when he was still working. Too much business happened in them for John to enjoy himself.
No, he knows why. He saw the skyracing. Asked around. Back home, when he was...dealing with stuff, he could take the car and drive. Just drive. Really put it through its paces. He found it a good way to work through things, and he was a good wheelman, though his talents at killing had made him far more useful to Viggo. Some of the vehicles don't look too dissimilar from motorcycles, and those he knows too.
He has to work through some stuff.
The dog can't come with him, but John didn't want to leave him back at the...apartment, but an attendant has promised to look after him while John does his laps. He can be seen sitting on a skyracer bike, helmet resting while he familiarizes himself with the controls.
"Huh. Almost looks identical." He mutters mostly to himself, unaware...not unaware, it would be hard to catch him flatfooted even in a place like this. John's lived in a state of heightened danger for too long to be out in public and not be aware of his surroundings, but no one here has any reason to go after him. There's no bounty, as far as he knows.
John Wick | John Wick
Waters of Seeing
John stands by the reflecting waters, the dog lying at his feet, patiently waiting. The pond is something close to normal. He could almost believe he was back in New York, in a park or by the Hudson. It makes more sense to him than the rest of this city...
He didn't believe. He'd said as much to Caine. In his heart of hearts, he didn't believe that the dead carried on somehow. But he'd also said maybe he was wrong.
More wrong than he knew, apparently. At least he wasn't alone.
An image begins to take shape in the waters; John is standing by the Hudson River, on a winter's evening. He can see the Brooklyn Bridge and the lights across the river. He knows this evening. Helen is in his arms, and they're kissing. This was after they married, less than a year after leaving the Tarasovs. The dog's head raises curiously, looking down at the water, not understanding what he's seeing, but it confirms to John at least this isn't in his head.
He's here, and she's still gone. "...Helen." It's all he can think to say as the memory of a husband and wife happy together plays in the waters in front of him.
Skyracing
Later in the evening, John's path eventually winds its way to The Fountain, though he doesn't really know why. He's not here to dance or party; these kinds of establishments have never been his scene, even when he was still working. Too much business happened in them for John to enjoy himself.
No, he knows why. He saw the skyracing. Asked around. Back home, when he was...dealing with stuff, he could take the car and drive. Just drive. Really put it through its paces. He found it a good way to work through things, and he was a good wheelman, though his talents at killing had made him far more useful to Viggo. Some of the vehicles don't look too dissimilar from motorcycles, and those he knows too.
He has to work through some stuff.
The dog can't come with him, but John didn't want to leave him back at the...apartment, but an attendant has promised to look after him while John does his laps. He can be seen sitting on a skyracer bike, helmet resting while he familiarizes himself with the controls.
"Huh. Almost looks identical." He mutters mostly to himself, unaware...not unaware, it would be hard to catch him flatfooted even in a place like this. John's lived in a state of heightened danger for too long to be out in public and not be aware of his surroundings, but no one here has any reason to go after him. There's no bounty, as far as he knows.
Yeah...yeah, he can work with this.