[ He stalls in answering her question, instead heading back into the bathroom to fetch something. A jar of moisturiser that Grell may recognise as one of her own from one of the nights she'd spent here long ago. It's probably past due and may not even be something that would do anything to help with bruising, but he's kept it which says something all it's own. ]
no subject
[ He stalls in answering her question, instead heading back into the bathroom to fetch something. A jar of moisturiser that Grell may recognise as one of her own from one of the nights she'd spent here long ago. It's probably past due and may not even be something that would do anything to help with bruising, but he's kept it which says something all it's own. ]
It felt freeing. Death was my shread of hope.