"Later," he echoes. He's starting to think that 'later' isn't a very good measurement of time. But every time he moves, York is there to reel him back in. Until it passes. He slumps. So much energy gone to waste today. And he hasn't even had lunch.

"I'll make a nice big supper for both of us." Wait. ...Shit. "Once I rebuild the kitchen. I'm sorry. The oven door was sticking, and I--don't...know." That he doesn't know a lot of things that go on with or in his own body is getting real fucking old now.