Ned, never all that good at taking compliments, ducks his head forward and takes a bite of his omelette, cheeks going pink again with embarrassment and pleasure. But along with that feeling of warmth and validation comes the desire to add further disclaimers, explanations.
"If you ask me, people already laugh at each other too much, and it doesn't seem so bad to laugh at the little misfortunes, but laugh at the little things often enough and it makes it easier and easier for people to start to laugh at the medium-sized things and eventually the big things. Things that shouldn't be laughed at." As far as Ned's concerned, the road from humor at another's expense to outright cruelty is a very short one. He shrugs, poking at his omelette, offers the vague coda, "I guess I see it that way because in my life, more often than not, I'm the guy with the pie in his face."
At that, Digby, still curled on his bed in the corner, makes a small canine noise of agreement, resting his head on his paws and staring at the two of them. The brightness of his look and focus of his attention makes it seem uncannily as if he were listening in, but of course that would be impossible.
"Is it cheating if I ask you the same question?" Ned asks, because thinking about it for his own sake did make him curious what Ginsberg's response would be. He has to have one at the ready, doesn't he? To have asked the question in the first place?
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"If you ask me, people already laugh at each other too much, and it doesn't seem so bad to laugh at the little misfortunes, but laugh at the little things often enough and it makes it easier and easier for people to start to laugh at the medium-sized things and eventually the big things. Things that shouldn't be laughed at." As far as Ned's concerned, the road from humor at another's expense to outright cruelty is a very short one. He shrugs, poking at his omelette, offers the vague coda, "I guess I see it that way because in my life, more often than not, I'm the guy with the pie in his face."
At that, Digby, still curled on his bed in the corner, makes a small canine noise of agreement, resting his head on his paws and staring at the two of them. The brightness of his look and focus of his attention makes it seem uncannily as if he were listening in, but of course that would be impossible.
"Is it cheating if I ask you the same question?" Ned asks, because thinking about it for his own sake did make him curious what Ginsberg's response would be. He has to have one at the ready, doesn't he? To have asked the question in the first place?