[ a sluggish pulse in his chest: there's no true grace in telling someone you don’t mean to knife them. plenty like to hold it so. rutyer doesn't intend to exacerbate this, how fucking generous. ]

No. So if a secret's what you’re after, what's gonna make you feel big — then my favourite colour's blue, when I was sixteen I broke the hand off a statue, and I'd take it a kindness if you did the work you signed to.

[ a tight gesture to the page. ]