[He watches as Winter leans back, watches the whole frame of him look towards the sky that isn't present so deep underground. Appreciates the slope of his pale neck, in a way that is somehow, miraculously, not related to the hunger that is always, always gnawing at his core.]
Only "on the right track"?
[He says, almost to himself. Winter really is striking-looking; darkly beautiful in that way of his. It makes something dangerously fond clench in his chest.]
no subject
Only "on the right track"?
[He says, almost to himself. Winter really is striking-looking; darkly beautiful in that way of his. It makes something dangerously fond clench in his chest.]
Then tell me, what am I missing?