#aaaacb;

"Thanks, baby."

from a prompt on my h*rny sideblog but this works too, i guess~ -> ⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐦𝐞. 𝐧𝐨𝐰. (VERY USFT!!!!)

Use your words. It is amazing how many times Piers has given that specific order and yet sometimes, in the strangest of circumstances, he finds himself resisting against doing just that.

"Huh?"

Even as he'd sat cross-legged, Corvus' head idly resting in his lap, he had not quite been present. The offer bounces off his brain and leaves him confused for a moment, before realizing and taking one.

"Thanks."

He holds it in hand for a moment without eating it, trying to figure out why he'd been so distracted and not able to remember what he was thinking about.

He felt like he was losing himself sometimes. Typically, it wouldn't have suited him, sitting around when there was work to be done, and not liking much the feeling of crowdedness he often felt in public places these days. But there were moments where he needed to be still, and let his brain relax, so to speak. He's not quite sure it qualifies for 'dissociation', though he's sure one or two psychiatrics would be willing to throw the term around.

Is it the virus? In his blood, trying to stir things in his hypothalamus, scrambling the data? Or is he maybe just depressed and falling down on his ethos? Well, some serotonin can't hurt the situation.

He shakes his head, trying to find clarity, and crunches down on the oreo--oh, fuck, it's an oreo? Man, how long's it been since I've had one of these? He puts his hand down to his lap, idly running fingers through Corvus' hair. Corvus didn't seem to have these troubles. Piers has a certain envy for it, but also, he likes being around Corvus, for the simple purpose that it feels better than letting the brain buzz overtake him.