The clamor of the hour was in full attendance. We're in the thick of it. We see a team or mass move with perastalic determination and laser focus on one common outcome.
We find the scope of the human cellular function exposed in poetic (sometimes horrifying) motion.
Cless would find himself wedged between his senior counterparts and fledgling inductees to the organization. It's a common and juicy mix.
Tempo is balanced and style is the butter on the toast of the evening.
Every now and then we get a glimpse of genius.
The duress of the night winding down is an abstract feeling. Every time he glimpses back at clock counting down , he gets a little shock in his nervous system .
So when he gets a compliment , it pulls and jars him back to dilation.
How could someone say something like "I'm not as gifted in plating as you..."? These sort of sentiments make even most worn walls feel new. ITs enough to put a lump in your throat even in a terse setting....
And then he feels gratitude for these highs and lows. Thankful that the story is still in motion and the show is more interesting that he would have previously conceived.