[ So disgusted with the realization of the things around him, both mentally and malodorously, Percival further fails to pay attention to his surroundings. How could he not? The smell of blood filling the air, of the organs. And after being in relative quiet for so long this overstimulation was disorientating. Voice after voice, revulsion after revulsion—one after the other and all on top of each other.
What he wouldn't give for the clatter of typewriters and flying papers again.
It's only the alarmed voice that sounds distinct against it all, calling out about a... flower? He doesn't make it to the chair he was headed for, turning to see what the commotion was about, only to duck at the creature diving at him. Some of his hair gets tussled from it and Percival loses his balance as he turns to track those bright wings, catching himself at an odd angle.
Then there are footsteps, quick and getting closer, making Percival turn towards them, a hand raised as he prepares for something more than something darting at him. Surely that's what it was: an attack.
The thought is quick to switch when he looks at the man rushing towards him, realization hitting him. His focus nearly drowns out the room's anguish, the other man's thoughts stark amongst them. Percival's head is pounding and yet he's sure. Lowering his hand, eyes glancing him over, he relaxes his stance. ] Newton?
SMOOCHES. holds tag to chest.
What he wouldn't give for the clatter of typewriters and flying papers again.
It's only the alarmed voice that sounds distinct against it all, calling out about a... flower? He doesn't make it to the chair he was headed for, turning to see what the commotion was about, only to duck at the creature diving at him. Some of his hair gets tussled from it and Percival loses his balance as he turns to track those bright wings, catching himself at an odd angle.
Then there are footsteps, quick and getting closer, making Percival turn towards them, a hand raised as he prepares for something more than something darting at him. Surely that's what it was: an attack.
The thought is quick to switch when he looks at the man rushing towards him, realization hitting him. His focus nearly drowns out the room's anguish, the other man's thoughts stark amongst them. Percival's head is pounding and yet he's sure. Lowering his hand, eyes glancing him over, he relaxes his stance. ] Newton?