His stomach drops into his feet, a lead weight and for a moment he feels like he might honestly be sick. It's all too much, the emotional whiplash making his head throb and he's not entirely sure he can-]
Do you not-
[He closes his fingers, sliding two of them against his thumb, the ink still thick enough to be tacky, if not slick any more.]
no subject
His stomach drops into his feet, a lead weight and for a moment he feels like he might honestly be sick. It's all too much, the emotional whiplash making his head throb and he's not entirely sure he can-]
Do you not-
[He closes his fingers, sliding two of them against his thumb, the ink still thick enough to be tacky, if not slick any more.]
There's ink everywhere.