[The fear is strung taut between them, wound up solely on Timβs end, like fishing wire plucked again and again. Stephen can see heβs trying to keep it under control, and a part of him
(some unflattering, inherent part of him new to this world wants to keep it alive, keep it thrumming)
ignores all instinct to churning in his chest to let it linger, and instead shakes his head again, his tone losing its harder edge from speaking to the crowd at large.]
I donβt need to visit a first aid tent; a little bruising doesnβt require patching up. And you donβt need to apologize. Listen to me, just breathe for a moment.
[He gestures at the picnic table before them. Sit?]
Mustβve been one hell of a nightmare you were waking up from.
no subject
(some unflattering, inherent part of him new to this world wants to keep it alive, keep it thrumming)
ignores all instinct to churning in his chest to let it linger, and instead shakes his head again, his tone losing its harder edge from speaking to the crowd at large.]
I donβt need to visit a first aid tent; a little bruising doesnβt require patching up. And you donβt need to apologize. Listen to me, just breathe for a moment.
[He gestures at the picnic table before them. Sit?]
Mustβve been one hell of a nightmare you were waking up from.