(rises from the ground in a zombie-like fashion) I watched NT for the first time in—drumroll—four months tonight. Why the long wait? I blame the show House MD. If you watch it, then you understand, and if you don't…well…(shakes head)
Anyway. Rant over. I don't own National Treasure. (WISH I DID.)
Your Part
The sweat collects on his bare palms and he can't believe how close he is; the fluorescent lights beam down and he can't believe he's doing this—shocked at himself, in awe that he's made it. For the briefest moment, he allows himself a burst of elation, powered by irreplaceable optimism that sends his jubilant fingers pointing to the camera's blank eye in a greeting…
"Hello…" he hears in his ear, and, just because he's feeling hopeful, he also allows himself a grin.
Later, in the wake of the discovery, he thinks back to that random instance: a high-five across the airwaves, a reassurance that everything was going to plan, would end up with goals achieved and lives intact, that what they were doing was right and they did know it, and that it wasn't just false resolution driving their motors. The signs pointed to that document, and by God, they reached it.
That's the thing—"they."
He was the only one in the room, skirting guards, dodging bullets.
But—"they."
And when he considers it again, he realizes the intentions in that simple action have changed with the years, for him at least. He doubts whether Riley even recalls those minute details. But somehow, his point to the camera morphed from "We can do it!" to—
"I owe it all to you."