[ It’s hard to focus, to remember what he’d intended when he knocked on Drake’s door. Ephemera just exhales and goes with it, goes where Drake directs him. Drake puts an arm around him, takes one of Ephemera’s hands in his own.
There’s blood under his jails, Ephemera thinks absently. And a knife still up his sleeve. Drake can probably feel the lines of the sheath.
no subject
There’s blood under his jails, Ephemera thinks absently. And a knife still up his sleeve. Drake can probably feel the lines of the sheath.
Ephemera shakes his head. ]
He wouldn’t fight back.