Re: Rehab: Misha B & Damian W
[Misha glanced at the ruined mirror, but it was a real brief looking, a second of time, a fraction of a moment that was just meant to indicate he was listening and present and focused on what Damian was saying. But, truthfully, his head was all over the damn place, and he wasn't sure what to focus on any. But, on the bright side, he could breathe now. He was standing here, with Damian, and he could breathe. He had this damn fear, this thing in his mind that wouldn't go, where Lyssa took the boy and made him do all the things she'd shown, all them things he'd seen Damian do projected from that mad mind.
It meant Misha gripped tighter, holding onto Damian's shoulders, fingers from one hand bloody now.] We got to clean you up. [It wasn't actually important, cleaning up a little bit of blood, but it was something real physical, something simple and so damned normal, and Misha grabbed onto it. Busy work, and he tipped Damian's chin up.] Can you sit on the desk for me? [But, course, he was already nudging the boy there. He knew Damian was breathing too fast and too shallow, and he didn't want him to pass out, and he kept close and crowded.] Breathe slower, Dami. You breathe slower for me. Count if need be.