[Yeah. Sirius' silence is that agreement, with his fingers still pressed to the back of his neck. Tracking the unspooled threads with sharp cut ends. There's no camaraderie in knowing he isn't the only one that's felt this, but it does imply an end.]
Can't wait.
[--Or something. He drops his hand to his side again.]
No schedule to it, and no way to predict it. Just a load of waiting. And doing whatever it is we do here.
no subject
Can't wait.
[--Or something. He drops his hand to his side again.]
No schedule to it, and no way to predict it. Just a load of waiting. And doing whatever it is we do here.