[When he inhales it's sharp, stuttering. Paints the image of someone less than half his age, ruled entirely by emotion and struggling against the current to swallow it all down with an untrained precision (successfully, shockingly enough).
His eyes— tired from the strain of too many hours— dart over towards Sam before refocusing on Jessica herself. And then he leans in, carefully, as if sharing some great secret between them:] It's true.
[There. Progress in a compromise carefully made, and he'll kill you if you make fun of him for it, Samuel.]
no subject
His eyes— tired from the strain of too many hours— dart over towards Sam before refocusing on Jessica herself. And then he leans in, carefully, as if sharing some great secret between them:] It's true.
[There. Progress in a compromise carefully made,
and he'll kill you if you make fun of him for it, Samuel.]