Jan 27, 2018
You watch the icon for Scullys chat blink to offline, and suddenly feel very, very tired.
( You glare at it as though it is personally responsible until you can feel your eyes prickling. )
The husktop is closed, placed off to the side with more gentility than you reserve for even your moirail, a soft touch that stands in stark contrast to the way you slam your fist into the wall hard enough to split skin down to the knuckle a moment later.
You should get that fixed, but you won’t.
You won’t do anything at all.
