[He blinks once, slowly — still not ready for words yet, but roused enough to follow along with what Kakyoin says and coherent enough to at least try to gather up a reply. He's been good; his cheeks flush from that. His eyelashes flutter every time Kakyoin's hand dips down against the inside of his thigh; he sighs around his straw when fingers pet up to count his ribs. There's a rhythm in his reactions, too, though he's not trying to place it there. It just feels natural, and he's not thinking about it altogether too much.
Sip after sip, he drinks his water, until the glass is empty and he's making faint slurping noises trying to get the last of it without moving. When it becomes apparent that the glass is empty, he slumps a little more contentedly against the couch cushions and nurses on the straw itself, glad just to have something in his mouth to focus on.
This is an interesting state of mind to find himself in, he thinks idly. His thoughts are slow and measured, but not disoriented or confused. He's not resisting talking or reluctant to do it; he just genuinely isn't ready to try to speak.
He feels calm, and the right kind of empty. He's all here, most of him, and sleepy-content, but he's not weighted down with the stress of ten thousand worries and his usually racing thoughts are, for once, blessedly silent.]
no subject
Sip after sip, he drinks his water, until the glass is empty and he's making faint slurping noises trying to get the last of it without moving. When it becomes apparent that the glass is empty, he slumps a little more contentedly against the couch cushions and nurses on the straw itself, glad just to have something in his mouth to focus on.
This is an interesting state of mind to find himself in, he thinks idly. His thoughts are slow and measured, but not disoriented or confused. He's not resisting talking or reluctant to do it; he just genuinely isn't ready to try to speak.
He feels calm, and the right kind of empty. He's all here, most of him, and sleepy-content, but he's not weighted down with the stress of ten thousand worries and his usually racing thoughts are, for once, blessedly silent.]