[ cedric slides in across from barrow. he's shucked the uniform upstairs, but the sweater's chantry-spun as anything else he owns — nearly everything that he does — a sleeve tugged down over splinted fingers.
no card game today, thank fuck. they're alone save the slow, steady thump of noose's tail at the end of the row. ]
What'd they have you on today?
[ scratching at the side of his cheek, distracted, it's plain as it's strange that he hasn't shaved. ]
no subject
no card game today, thank fuck. they're alone save the slow, steady thump of noose's tail at the end of the row. ]
What'd they have you on today?
[ scratching at the side of his cheek, distracted, it's plain as it's strange that he hasn't shaved. ]