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[skidrowseymour]

It's a bad day today. Just like yesterday. Just like a few yesterdays. Darkfeedness meon the outfinally I'llside be, darkmeekness on the inheritside, hollowness do it now everywhere I can't take livingSeymour is in his fleshy cubby (makes a good cell). Too much sleep doesn't help, but there's nothing else to do. He can't deal with other people

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[thepathofpins]

Sleep. She hasn't slept. She knows better, by now.

Martine slips into the hole, hair braided, dress gone - stripped down. And quiet, as she watches Seymour settle.

...He's different, with stubble and closed eyes. Martine reaches out, hand ever so steady, and barely brushes the tips of his beard.

[skidrowseymour]

There's a moment where Seymour has no real response to that.

Then he bolts into a sitting position, presses himself against his cubby wall, and screams.

[thepathofpins]

Martine watches this distantly, hand held in place as if he hadn't moved at all.

"You look different," she says softly "Hush."

[skidrowseymour]

He can't even say her name - just makes a confused, shocked whimper.

A hand flutters upwards, touches her hand. With sudden strength, he jerks it off. He'll release her hand the second Martine isn't touching him.

You don't get to do that. Not now.