CLOUDEDWRATH ╱ l.h.
a general skepticism writes itself onto his features, and he does his very best to bite back a remark that this is an animal shelter and not a human one. ‘ bad dissection day ? let me guess, a frog came back from the DEAD and decided to take a bite out of you. ’ the sentiment is wry, his humour never forthcoming if one elects to even see it as such. it’s almost as though discomfort is intentionally aimed for, a TARGET shot at with immaculate precision. the air of malaise he procures is reminiscent of a biology class, where the faint stench of formaldehyde makes people go STIFF, with a gaze tracking the hands of a clock and a desire to leave. ‘ i dunno, probably. i have steady hands. ’ rooted in musical expertise, it’s the only proclamation he can make with complete certainty. ‘ uh, so i guess sawyer uses the first-aid kit we have here right ? ’
“ yeah, zombie frogs. ” normally, he’d laugh, but exhaustion and pain are starting to take over, washing out any bit of humor he could hold onto. and, if he was being honest, he didn’t find it all that funny ━ more dry and flat than hinting at humor. maybe that’s why he’s not a fan of his sister’s boyfriend ━ something about him makes steven vaguely uncomfortable. “ steady hands are better than nothing, ” he sighs, searching for a place to sit. he spies a chair and makes his way over, sitting down with a nod of his head. “ yeah, she uses that. not like you’re going to have a professional medical kit sitting around in an animal shelter. ” there’s a subtle roll of eyes paired with the statement.












