[Waiting outside the sight of their last confrontation a little more than a week ago, even for those precious few seconds leaves Alit with the feeling that his stomach is starting to turn, languidly, adroitly, capsizing neatly into the preformed hollow that outlines his memories. Based on their tenuous first words they were threating to follow the same path to submergence and he has to cling to the fact that this time he was invited, wanted in some capacity.]
Huh?
[When the door opens, and Alit catches the look in Michael's eyes now mere inches below his own, the path forks bewilderingly, fractals as he's pulled into an unfamiliar warmth that was neither asked for nor expected. It percolates through the veil of his tepid anticipation and leaves him standing on uncertain but note entirely unstable ground]
I don't have one. [He answers almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like the slate has been wiped clean in and instant if only for an instant, with only the phantom of its afterimage lingering ephemerally in place.]
Re: action;
Huh?
[When the door opens, and Alit catches the look in Michael's eyes now mere inches below his own, the path forks bewilderingly, fractals as he's pulled into an unfamiliar warmth that was neither asked for nor expected. It percolates through the veil of his tepid anticipation and leaves him standing on uncertain but note entirely unstable ground]
I don't have one. [He answers almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like the slate has been wiped clean in and instant if only for an instant, with only the phantom of its afterimage lingering ephemerally in place.]