Nov 9, 2015
@esquiier
he’s fuming, anger swirling like storm clouds before to the tornado touchdown. it stirs any remnant of calm that settled down for once; seeing that familiar blond head of hair from the legs of bodies fencing around breaks resistance & he comes in full throttle with swift fists packing their own weighted rage.
they’re all down for the count, like rag dolls tossed around after a child’s afternoon playtime, then ajax holds out a hand for bill to take, “come on,” he urges with a strange softness in his voice so rarely exposed in cadence.
