There it is, the stillness of not meeting expectations. He's... intimate, with the hollow feeling. Tim pulls up a smirk, shoving at Jeff's shoulder at the drama of a simple shrug. "I'll make it up to you," he promises. Earnest and eager and with the understanding of a bad decision in the making.
No different than any other dozens of times he's found himself in over his head, he rationalizes. (What the hell happened to him, he wonders vaguely, that he finds the prospect thrilling.)
(There's anxiety wanting to close its fingers around his throat.)
Tim bulldozes on. "Name a day. I'll be all yours." And in the meantime, "You can't hack what I'm hacking anyway."
no subject
No different than any other dozens of times he's found himself in over his head, he rationalizes. (What the hell happened to him, he wonders vaguely, that he finds the prospect thrilling.)
(There's anxiety wanting to close its fingers around his throat.)
Tim bulldozes on. "Name a day. I'll be all yours." And in the meantime, "You can't hack what I'm hacking anyway."