Soren was curled up on the couch, knees to his chest, forehead to knees. He didn't have to watch Cass to know how he was moving; he'd seen him worked up enough to know how he was pacing, to be familiar with the amount of paces each side. He could hear Cass in his head, counting as loud as if he were yelling, and Soren felt himself rocking slightly.
It was all so fucked, and Soren didn't even know how it had gotten to that point. He didn't know much, but he did know that when his husband wanted to smack his wife and when Henn was Backstage trying not to explode herself or anyone else - things were too fucked up to save. So he'd thrown up, splashed cold water on his face, and sat down on the couch. His own Shadow, Snuggles, was burrowed in his hair, mostly unseen.