👐
Non Verbal
👐 Hold my muse when they are badly wounded/dying
“You.... were the last face I was expecting to see,” the laughter that comes with bloodied words only makes him cough, pained breath expanding broken ribs against the pavement, and limbs not wanting to move from their resting place. When hair is moved in an unceremonious fashion and one blood shot eye landed on ugly scarred face that was far more interested than it should be, does man relax into his place. First the heat, then the cold, then numbness flooding into nerves as parts of him began to shut down.
Oddly enough, it wouldn’t have been the first time Myles has been hit with a car, though this time was far more devastating than the last. How badly did his brother want him gone? Counterintuitive if you asked him, but he wasn’t about to spend his last waking moments thinking about that. There’s a poor attempt to sit up, but arms are jelly and shoulder slams into the ground with a heavy thud where it stays, though head seems to miss it all for something softer -- a thigh? A hand? There was no way to tell with how crumbled body was becoming, but he couldn’t quite see Spike anymore -- though he dared not put two and two together. “Now... you can finally be rid of me... you ever think this day would come?”
