Apparently. [He's trying so hard not to sound bitter, but it's so hard. So instead of shoving his foot in his mouth, he presses his lips together and sits back in his chair, silent for a long moment.]
When? No-- [this isn't the time, not while she's death tolling. Though he's tempted to use the lack of brain-mouth filter while it's here, that wouldn't be right. Or fair. (What part of this is fair.)] Never mind. [He runs a hand over his face, looking away.] Do you want me to go?
spammm
When? No-- [this isn't the time, not while she's death tolling. Though he's tempted to use the lack of brain-mouth filter while it's here, that wouldn't be right. Or fair. (What part of this is fair.)] Never mind. [He runs a hand over his face, looking away.] Do you want me to go?