these are desperate times, iiichabod,
and desperate STARTERS are called for.
╳ ๔є๓๏ภ ๒คг๒єг ╳
❛an' wha' c'n i do f' you, sir?❜ his voice is soft and faraway; his mouth is hardly moving. his crimes may be punishable by a hanging, but his eyes were so tethered to the ground that the only rope around his neck was a binding chain down to h e l l. pale fingers squeeze the back of the chair, and slide away as he goes to the corner to retrieve a towel, with nary a backward glance at the constable.










