Feb 28, 2018
@ladybelowdeck
“Type A. No, wait, is that the good kind? Type B? Type B for ‘bugs’.”
He can feel them, right now, under his skin. Crawling through his veins, shifting in his blood. Less itchy than usual, more like a gentle tingling. Feather-light. A tickle. He runs his fingers over his arms and peers at them, trying to make out the shapes of all the little Kevins.
“---- say hello,” he croons, and whether he’s asking the spiders to greet Scotty or Scotty, the spider, it’s not quite clear.
