[ somewhere, on a beach with a total station set up nearby, eobard thawne sits back on one hand, lets his head loll back up skyward in thought. ]
Touché. Go on. One question. I don’t intend to be transactional; you must know, instinctively and intellectually, that time isn’t to be trifled with. Can’t have you running home with some theory of quantum gravity you didn’t rightfully earn.
no subject
Touché.
Go on. One question. I don’t intend to be transactional; you must know, instinctively and intellectually, that time isn’t to be trifled with. Can’t have you running home with some theory of quantum gravity you didn’t rightfully earn.