[ She deserved it. He's told this story recently, to fucking Byerly, even, as what, as proof of how much he loves his friends? God, David, you can't possibly fucking think -- no. Breathe. He lifts a hand, curving his fingers over one of Miles' arms wrapped around him, squeezing lightly over his forearm. ]
-- You've killed people, haven't you? [ Let's. Talk about you for a while. Or something else. Anything else. ]
no subject
[ She deserved it. He's told this story recently, to fucking Byerly, even, as what, as proof of how much he loves his friends? God, David, you can't possibly fucking think -- no. Breathe. He lifts a hand, curving his fingers over one of Miles' arms wrapped around him, squeezing lightly over his forearm. ]
-- You've killed people, haven't you? [ Let's. Talk about you for a while. Or something else. Anything else. ]