Carver rocks on his heels, anxious. He doesn't want to be touched. He wants to curl up in a ball and maybe fall into a coma. But this has to be done, doesn't it? He can feel the fever creeping up, am impending sense of wrongness churning through him. Worrying everyone.
"Okay," he says, very softly. He'll help Pope. They'll never talk about this again. And Pope will help him.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-06-20 05:06 pm (UTC)"Okay," he says, very softly. He'll help Pope. They'll never talk about this again. And Pope will help him.
Carver swallows. "How...?"