ployboy: <user name=wittystairs site=livejournal.com> (Birds of the same feather)
ᴛɪᴍᴏᴛʜʏ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ ǝuʎɐʍ ([personal profile] ployboy) wrote in [community profile] apocalypsehowcomm 2021-08-31 06:43 pm (UTC)

[Gross.

An interrogation.]


And... I guess you're not that old.

[Far be it from him to dive into pettiness.

Well, doc, the boy's slowly morphing into something sullen, the red of his face coming down along with the more steady thumping of his heart. Tim makes a short-lived show of a deep breath --in, hold, out-- see, he's good, and he slumps back in the chair, no longer feeling the need for total propriety. (his feet are firmly planted on the ground below, legs still feeling coiled and like he should be prepared to bolt once more. What other defense does he have against this man? Throwing the whole damn table would be too burdensome to accomplish anything for when push next comes to shove.

'Next'.)

Tim eyes that hand; he can't help it. He needs that security of a solid out. Tim thinks he's done found it; sorry. He scoffs. It's not heated, or anything, it's just-- gotta happen. He looks at the wooden table, then meets Stephen's eyes for the first time.

He can do that just fine, ignore the... spiders under his skin just fine.]
You know the multiverse? [and aren't freaked to high hell about it? ADI sure knows how to pick 'em.]

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