[Cottage: Misha & Damian]
[He didn't waste any time, not wanting Damian to change his mind any. Truth was that Misha was real wrecked. Not just on account of all this talking 'bout suicide, but on account of his own damned inability to get a thing right when helping with folks. His inclination wasn't human any, and he felt real impotent not being able to do what he was made for doing. And, now, Damian wanted Morphine, and Misha didn't have a damn bit of faith in his own ability to curb that wanting. But all that aside, the boy didn't waste a lick of time. He dragged Damian right smack into the center of the cottage. And, Misha, he was sitting on the bed in fleece pajama pants in pink and dotted with pastel balloons. He reached for the hoodie he'd discarded the night 'fore, and he tugged the pale yellow onto his arms and zipped it up.]