Re: In person: Misha B/Damian W
[Misha wasn't dumb, despite some folks thinking his accent meant he was dumb as bricks. He knew Damian. He knew every damn thing 'bout how this boy moved, how he sounded, how he expressed things, and how he looked at the world 'round him with them green eyes. He knew Damian wasn't seeing things right. He knew, too, on account of the boy still felt foreign. He felt stronger, but it wasn't Damian like he normally was, and that wasn't even something Misha reckoned came with the weakness of the heartbeat he associated with this boy's soul. It was a change, it was something that wasn't the same as 'fore, and all of it put together let Misha knew Damian was pretending.
He took Damian's hand, and he opened the first aid kit on the blanket, and he set the back of Damian's hand 'gainst his own thigh. And, fussed as he was, he was still real carefully when he dabbed at that wound Damian had dug into his palm. Gentle as could be, he even leaned down to blow on it, case it it burned too strong, and then he put ointment on and took to wrapping Damian's palm in white guaze.] You ain't got to pretend you ain't seeing things wrong, or that you don't feel changed. [He lifted his gaze.] What truth was it you wanted to learn?