[Number? He looks a little lost at the question at first, but eventually it seems to click.]
...Oh. Yeah, uh. Mm.
[He shifts to stick one very cold hand out of his cape cocoon and starts to trace along the cover of one of his morbid books, thumb and forefinger together like he's holding a pen. There is no pen though and this isn't a notebook and even if they both were, his movements are sloppy and too hard to follow...and they go on much longer than the length of a phone number. He seems to have lost track of what he was doing mid-thought, hallucinating scribbling words down like he normally would on a trip to the library.
no subject
...Oh. Yeah, uh. Mm.
[He shifts to stick one very cold hand out of his cape cocoon and starts to trace along the cover of one of his morbid books, thumb and forefinger together like he's holding a pen. There is no pen though and this isn't a notebook and even if they both were, his movements are sloppy and too hard to follow...and they go on much longer than the length of a phone number. He seems to have lost track of what he was doing mid-thought, hallucinating scribbling words down like he normally would on a trip to the library.
It is one hundred percent completely unhelpful.]