distance maintained, taller of the two remain standing; cranium angled downward for irises to stay latched on the other. molars ground together at cruel reminder, eyes narrowing. +
“ what’s the point of this? for me to watch you drink yourself to death? ” arms cross, claiming a defensive posture regardless of the lack of hostility presented. +
𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮? was that the sole reason he was called up to this cage of an office? scowl ingrained itself into weathered features, hues fixated on the seated figure. “ is this some kind of joke? ”
who's the real you? the person who did something awful, or the one who's horrified by the awful thing you did? is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?