[It's a half-mumbled echo, almost matching his tone exactly. A memory of I'm fine after I'm fine mumbled across hotel rooms, over the dashboard, in gas station rest stops, outside the jagged Rosswood treeline.]
[The knife presses into his palm. His fingertips close around it automatically. He should...stand. As soon as he's certain he won't simply fall right the hell back over the minute he does.]
no subject
[It's a half-mumbled echo, almost matching his tone exactly. A memory of I'm fine after I'm fine mumbled across hotel rooms, over the dashboard, in gas station rest stops, outside the jagged Rosswood treeline.]
[The knife presses into his palm. His fingertips close around it automatically. He should...stand. As soon as he's certain he won't simply fall right the hell back over the minute he does.]
...sorry. I'm - sorry.