[ Viktor's busy fingers still. It should not hurt this much to hear those words; he'd thought that particular stone well rounded, but it aches just as sharply as the day he'd first heard them. Homesickness, he thinks, surely, and does not examine it further. His voice feels too tight when he tries to speak. ]
Neither one of us is fine.
[ Viktor reaches out across the table to slide fingers across the paper in Fandaniel's hands and stares at him, long ears eased back against curls, expression serious. ]
It knows. H-half of those questions were- were things she said. Things about her.
no subject
Neither one of us is fine.
[ Viktor reaches out across the table to slide fingers across the paper in Fandaniel's hands and stares at him, long ears eased back against curls, expression serious. ]
It knows. H-half of those questions were- were things she said. Things about her.
[ He will not dwell on the other half. ]