[He ends up staring at the handprint Martin leaves in his misery and pitched isolation. The crisp, obnoxiously pink dress shirt has a faded, soft grey semicircle around the shoulder and-
He's vaguely aware of Martin 'sitting' heavily, but can't quite focus there for the lance of subtle, soft, creeping fear that the discoloration provides. He hooks a finger in his collar and looks-
It's not missing. Not like present-Martin's hand is, but- good enough.
He takes a deep breath.] It's okay! ... It's okay. It's an accident.
[But that comforting grasp Tim had been offering as something of a constant... doesn't return, does it?]
no subject
He's vaguely aware of Martin 'sitting' heavily, but can't quite focus there for the lance of subtle, soft, creeping fear that the discoloration provides. He hooks a finger in his collar and looks-
It's not missing. Not like present-Martin's hand is, but- good enough.
He takes a deep breath.] It's okay! ... It's okay. It's an accident.
[But that comforting grasp Tim had been offering as something of a constant... doesn't return, does it?]