retroxmagicus replied to your post:
“All right as I can be.” She’s looking him over too—though it’s his scent that brings lingering memories to the surface. He’s cigarettes and magic and maybe too, regret. “Are you sleeping? Because you don’t look like it.”
“ a BIT. don’t mother hen me, zee, m’fine. “
the nightmares have been bad, to the point where he’s been foregoing sleep for research, lately. a hand lifts to scrub at his jaw, scraping over several days’ worth of stubble. does he really look as tired as he is?
“ why’re you here? “













