We don't need tea, Martin. [ Snapped, exasperated. But he regrets it, just a little, as soon as he's said it; how long has it been since Martin fussed at him, made him tea? It's much better than... well. He prefers it to the recent state.
Jon sits. He does not fidget. But, well, the restless energy kind of rolls off him.
He does, at least, no longer eye Martin like something that might come at him with a hatchet. ]
If I may? [ He is trying so hard. The buzzy pressure jumps readily to his voice, stronger this time, thrumming with how badly he wants to know. ] What do you want to tell me?
no subject
Jon sits. He does not fidget. But, well, the restless energy kind of rolls off him.
He does, at least, no longer eye Martin like something that might come at him with a hatchet. ]
If I may? [ He is trying so hard. The buzzy pressure jumps readily to his voice, stronger this time, thrumming with how badly he wants to know. ] What do you want to tell me?