[ He blinks, in a muted sort of surprise. When had anyone cared for that? Not for a very long time. Terra, perhaps, for hurting him, but only so much as she thought she was afraid of him.
Fingers curl around the cup, strong and broad and broken. Holds there, solid. Looks up at her and shrugs, lopsided, one short jerk and lifts the cup again. ]
How could I be? You think I have anything left in me like that? [ and something in him that never makes it, laughs and laughs and laughs itself sick. It's black and writhing and void like and bubbles, and he swallows it deep, deep down, takes the tea and drinks slow like he could steal the warmth out of it. ]
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Fingers curl around the cup, strong and broad and broken. Holds there, solid. Looks up at her and shrugs, lopsided, one short jerk and lifts the cup again. ]
How could I be? You think I have anything left in me like that? [ and something in him that never makes it, laughs and laughs and laughs itself sick. It's black and writhing and void like and bubbles, and he swallows it deep, deep down, takes the tea and drinks slow like he could steal the warmth out of it. ]