â donât⌠donât touch me. â *throws the angst at you*
  â and why canât i TOUCH you ? â tristan had had enough of this cat and mouse  game they played. sneaking around corners to even receive the most brief  of touches before being tossed back into the real world - drowning in the cold  waters of rank and reason. tristan could feel the metal in his body begin to heat  and spark with his anger. the only person who made him feel this way was isolde.  always isolde.Â
  he released the other with a scoff and desperately wished he was a better man. a  better person. he shouldâve just let isolde leave his life, leave his mind. but he couldnât.  â whatever. just another one of your mind games. iâll be in my quarters if you change your  mind. â
