Yeah. Poison. [will says it faintly, looking down at the sketchbook for a long moment, thinking about how much of his own poison he's leaked out all over the pages.
the question recenters him, though, and with a soft huff, he lifts his chin, looks down the street.] Walk. I -- walking is good. [Moving around gets poison out too, right?]
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the question recenters him, though, and with a soft huff, he lifts his chin, looks down the street.] Walk. I -- walking is good. [Moving around gets poison out too, right?]