[His voice is quiet. His hand hurts, being squeezed like this, but he bears it and squeezes back, and then lifts Polnareff's hand to kiss the back of it, an impulsive gesture of fellowship and sorrow. He won't apologize, not out loud, because it isn't his fault. But he is sorry all the same.]
no subject
[His voice is quiet. His hand hurts, being squeezed like this, but he bears it and squeezes back, and then lifts Polnareff's hand to kiss the back of it, an impulsive gesture of fellowship and sorrow. He won't apologize, not out loud, because it isn't his fault. But he is sorry all the same.]
Yours. He's young. But I do think he's yours.