[But he's got memories of twining fingertips into a skein of soft pink yarn, meticulously stitching the words across the broad front, that bubble of pride that swelled in a chest and wouldn't burst for anything, because the way he beamed was - ]
[Not something that belongs to him.]
[He shunts it aside.]
'Round here, I guess you pick all sorts of new things up.
no subject
[But he's got memories of twining fingertips into a skein of soft pink yarn, meticulously stitching the words across the broad front, that bubble of pride that swelled in a chest and wouldn't burst for anything, because the way he beamed was - ]
[Not something that belongs to him.]
[He shunts it aside.]
'Round here, I guess you pick all sorts of new things up.