[…Right. Here we go. Connor is definitely under that telltale thrall of morphine, or whatever it is the hospital’s decided to give him. Markus reaches out, a huff of amusement he’s trying to keep to himself escaping.]
No, Connor— wait.
[A hand to gently clasp around his wrist, stopping his motion. The emotional buzz of the bond kicking up again.]
Not now. You need to rest. I need to rest, too. We’ll go soon, all right?
no subject
No, Connor— wait.
[A hand to gently clasp around his wrist, stopping his motion. The emotional buzz of the bond kicking up again.]
Not now. You need to rest. I need to rest, too. We’ll go soon, all right?