[ even through the nausea and the anger, he can see that the blow landed, and he has a moment of sick satisfaction before it all washes away again beneath the tide of weary self-loathing. he's so sick to death of all of this. ]
Bitch, did I ask you to? [ he laughs again, short and sharp and disbelieving, humor nowhere in sight. ] I didn't fucking-- create a fire dragon to-- to-- [ he makes a vague, expansive gesture, as if to take in all of himself, all the world around them. ] I was done! I was done, it was over.
[ the nausea rushes up all at once at the reminder, and he spins away, lurching toward a trashcan to hunch over it, hands white-knuckled on the sides as he empties the contents of his stomach. ]
no subject
Bitch, did I ask you to? [ he laughs again, short and sharp and disbelieving, humor nowhere in sight. ] I didn't fucking-- create a fire dragon to-- to-- [ he makes a vague, expansive gesture, as if to take in all of himself, all the world around them. ] I was done! I was done, it was over.
[ the nausea rushes up all at once at the reminder, and he spins away, lurching toward a trashcan to hunch over it, hands white-knuckled on the sides as he empties the contents of his stomach. ]