[He's better at veiling his reactions to things - shock, dismay. He's done it time and time again. He doesn't expect them to say what they do, mild as it is, and glances at them without bothering to hide it. The urge to tamp it down comes naturally, but given the state of things, the nature of the exhaustion that's already seeping up into his bones, that he's sure is gripping them both, there's only so much he can do.]
[A protest worms its way up to the back of his throat naturally. He swallows it down.]
Sure. Sure, if you want.
[Drawing close to the house means that he can touch his tongue to the back of his mouth an make a soft clucking noise, just enough to draw out the orange-striped, felid head of the tigerlily that lives there. The poor thing with far too many names, but probably makes a better comfort than Tim himself.]
no subject
[A protest worms its way up to the back of his throat naturally. He swallows it down.]
Sure. Sure, if you want.
[Drawing close to the house means that he can touch his tongue to the back of his mouth an make a soft clucking noise, just enough to draw out the orange-striped, felid head of the tigerlily that lives there. The poor thing with far too many names, but probably makes a better comfort than Tim himself.]