For as tall as Emmet is, Giovanni has little trouble lifting him by his neck, slamming him into the wall of the subway.
"I think it's time you and I had a little talk, conductor."
the weariness that's been dragging him down for weeks has gradually turned into exhaustion, but emmet continues to stubbornly chase after that one source of endless thrill; winning. every battle he pushes harder, more relentless, more violent. even that guilt briefly twisting his insides afterwards is worth the rush of adrenaline. the payout of a terrible diet and barely any sleep combined with 16 hour work days is the mind-numbing tiredness.
it's no wonder he doesn't register that uninvited company until he's shoved against the wall with little to no effort, that primal fear that grips him muted down dangerously much with the fatigue. oh. had he beaten up one too many stray grunts? maybe this is how he dies.
“ y-yup– seems like it. ”
@throneseize
