[Silco's arm rests around him, his nose tickling at the smell of smoke. Silco, too, has a smell. Something a little acrid, with the heavy smoke of hard alcohol. It's become oddly soothing, despite its acidity that seems to want to eat into him.]
[His fingertips slide over ever prominent vertebrae, sighing into his skin. How did he get so thin? All bones and bare flesh, and he loves it. Wants to scoop him up and fill him up to the brim, in more ways than one.]
It's baked into us. But you and I...we recognize that. We have no room to judge.
no subject
[Silco's arm rests around him, his nose tickling at the smell of smoke. Silco, too, has a smell. Something a little acrid, with the heavy smoke of hard alcohol. It's become oddly soothing, despite its acidity that seems to want to eat into him.]
[His fingertips slide over ever prominent vertebrae, sighing into his skin. How did he get so thin? All bones and bare flesh, and he loves it. Wants to scoop him up and fill him up to the brim, in more ways than one.]
It's baked into us. But you and I...we recognize that. We have no room to judge.