Re: Call: Misha B/Damian W
[He listens, and it ain't 'til the tail end of all that, that he does something. There ain't a damn thing Damian can feel on his end, not a presence, no cold air, no harbinger or telling sign he ain't alone. There ain't nothing resembling presence. But, without any warning and for no good reason, the other boy feels better, like the tension's gone from 'tween his shoulders, like breathing comes easier. It's an outlook, more than it's anything else. It's the sensation, like it came from within himself and wasn't placed there. It's hopefulness, and the feeling things will be fine, and even the things he's fussed 'bout have solutions. Misha, he don't say a thing immediate, since it seems disingenuous to talk at him while showing him what that's like, and he's real careful not to make it a long-acting thing. It don't linger past a few seconds, and it fades real slow, so it ain't jarring. It's real easy to pull the feeling too fast and make folks worse off. And, preemptive:] I reckon we should do something nice, you and me. [He'll come right on back to the rest.]