[Romance is so far-flung a notion that, no, he could not imagine it. He had been starkly in the camp that it was simply never to be his forte; even an adult Sholmes, that day they met in Reverie, believed the same, only not so staunchly. Just that it was an airy truth that had no reason to meld itself into anything different, until it did.
Is she trying to get up? Or just thinking about it?]
I cannot imagine I look particularly unhappy.
[Again, his moves his finger, a slight twist to his wrist to simply feel at a different angle, scant of a difference it might make.]
Another finger?
[Room for him, she said. His brain is slush. Help him.]
no subject
Is she trying to get up? Or just thinking about it?]
I cannot imagine I look particularly unhappy.
[Again, his moves his finger, a slight twist to his wrist to simply feel at a different angle, scant of a difference it might make.]
Another finger?
[Room for him, she said. His brain is slush. Help him.]