You can practically hear their composures snap, like dry twigs - like bird bones - beneath a heavy foot. Every spoken barb cuts cleaner than the last, slick with success, until the wounds are bleeding freely, and you can’t trace which vein is the source.
And the 'lack of' making the most difference in Wes' head...
I totally wasn't expecting this from the Peter/Bryce, but you did a remarkable job with it.
they start to smile before the neurons kick in and they remember that they aren’t smiling at the same man who smiled back at them a year ago. And then they’re even more hurt, more angry.
Ow...and that ending - even more ouchie. Poor Peter. (Poor Neal - he'd probably be annoyed in his grave for someone using his looks against Peter. Or, you know, for The Man)
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You can practically hear their composures snap, like dry twigs - like bird bones - beneath a heavy foot. Every spoken barb cuts cleaner than the last, slick with success, until the wounds are bleeding freely, and you can’t trace which vein is the source.
And the 'lack of' making the most difference in Wes' head...
I totally wasn't expecting this from the Peter/Bryce, but you did a remarkable job with it.
they start to smile before the neurons kick in and they remember that they aren’t smiling at the same man who smiled back at them a year ago. And then they’re even more hurt, more angry.
Ow...and that ending - even more ouchie. Poor Peter. (Poor Neal - he'd probably be annoyed in his grave for someone using his looks against Peter. Or, you know, for The Man)
Lovely, lovely stuff, m'dear.
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