[ his hand tightens around his phone; he nearly entertains the impulse to pull it away from his ear, to hang up, to break it, if only to escape the words he does not want to hear. the truth he does not want to acknowledge, for in acknowledging it he is acknowledging the consequence of his actions.
what he's done. what he's wrought. he pushes the cart into the wall it stands beside instead. the violence causes the crystal to clink and the alcohol to slosh, but nothing breaks, nothing spills.
she is right. he knows better. he knows plenty, his words clipped, fermented in incitement. ] There is no trust where there is manipulation, and I took away that when I took away his fear.
[ they can't be friends. they are not friends. ] We're not friends, Camille. He has simply been... [ he cannot seem to keep the waver from his voice, pretending so poorly his indifference. there was a time when he was better at it. ] a means to an end.
no subject
what he's done. what he's wrought. he pushes the cart into the wall it stands beside instead. the violence causes the crystal to clink and the alcohol to slosh, but nothing breaks, nothing spills.
she is right. he knows better. he knows plenty, his words clipped, fermented in incitement. ] There is no trust where there is manipulation, and I took away that when I took away his fear.
[ they can't be friends. they are not friends. ] We're not friends, Camille. He has simply been... [ he cannot seem to keep the waver from his voice, pretending so poorly his indifference. there was a time when he was better at it. ] a means to an end.