Apr 16, 2019
"What are you doing on the floor surrounded by pieces of bread??" ask for drunk al and receive
random - always accepting
He was absolutely famished.
“Birds,” he responds absently, voice oddly monotone while his hands preoccupy themselves with tearing the loaf into itsy bitsy pieces. Reminiscent to flesh, albeit more pliant by a large margin - and less bloody… unfortunately. No, no, not like flesh, he supposed.
For some reason the thought upset him.
And at that foreign sensation, a giggle bursts out of him. Had he been himself, he would have been mortified by the noise that escaped him. What a bore!