Re: In-person: Misha B/Damian W
[A tut.] That is ridiculous. [And, in Damian's opinion, it was.—To be fair to Misha, it was not as if the man on the bench knew what was going on in his head either. He spent much of his time avoiding such introspection, chemically and otherwise. It was much more difficult, however, without the morphine and with a constant eruption of unwieldy emotion. At the very least, he enjoyed the stroke of Misha's fingers and leaned into them, predictably.
Damian did not know if he believed that the angel was jealous as often as he was, save for the fact that Misha did not lie. He frowned, staring at the boy across from him.] Do you wish to yell? [The man tipped his head to the side this time, away, so white fingertips could brush clavicle.] I too fret about being how you need. Nor can I help how I am. [Could he? Damian looked down at his own feet, as much as he could, given that he had his arms around his knees, which were up to his chest.] I am not kind how you are. I know it is selfish.