He'd gotten quite up close and personal with Miss Laura Palmer for the duration of time he'd had access to her in the morgue. There's a way to phrase that, he knows, to make it sound like innuendo, crass and unsettling, but that's not the kind of black humor that tends to come with the people who spend their days in autopsy theaters. At least, not when you're Albert. Some people need the sick humor because it's the only thing that keeps them going, is laughing at anything they can find to laugh at because if they don't have something to laugh at they'll lose it. Albert's a little more resilient than that. There's a certain peace that comes with what he does, and while he may be blunt and straightforward about what he does, he doesn't make light of it.
He knows Laura Palmer probably about as well as a lot of people knew Laura Palmer. And that's her, standing under his tree, looking up at it like she's never seen such a stunning representation of arboreal majesty before.
This is going to be a strange meeting. He can't say that he's never talked to a dead girl before, because he has. He's talked to a lot of them.
This'll just be the first time, he muses, that the dead girl talks back — not with her corpse, with the evidence left behind, the clues she paid her life for so that someone like him might be able to follow them after she was gone. Just with her own mouth. Her own voice.
Yeah, this is going to be a trip.]
Laura Palmer.
[He doesn't say it like a question, and he doesn't append the instinctive "You" onto the front of it. He knows who she is, and so does she. No point in stating the obvious.]
no subject
He'd gotten quite up close and personal with Miss Laura Palmer for the duration of time he'd had access to her in the morgue. There's a way to phrase that, he knows, to make it sound like innuendo, crass and unsettling, but that's not the kind of black humor that tends to come with the people who spend their days in autopsy theaters. At least, not when you're Albert. Some people need the sick humor because it's the only thing that keeps them going, is laughing at anything they can find to laugh at because if they don't have something to laugh at they'll lose it. Albert's a little more resilient than that. There's a certain peace that comes with what he does, and while he may be blunt and straightforward about what he does, he doesn't make light of it.
He knows Laura Palmer probably about as well as a lot of people knew Laura Palmer. And that's her, standing under his tree, looking up at it like she's never seen such a stunning representation of arboreal majesty before.
This is going to be a strange meeting. He can't say that he's never talked to a dead girl before, because he has. He's talked to a lot of them.
This'll just be the first time, he muses, that the dead girl talks back — not with her corpse, with the evidence left behind, the clues she paid her life for so that someone like him might be able to follow them after she was gone. Just with her own mouth. Her own voice.
Yeah, this is going to be a trip.]
Laura Palmer.
[He doesn't say it like a question, and he doesn't append the instinctive "You" onto the front of it. He knows who she is, and so does she. No point in stating the obvious.]