[ Another discrepancy. Locus' brow lowers, digging in as he eases back, lets York return to those slower, shallower thrusts, because it doesn't seem as though he wants to stop. More, he wanted more, but not that. ]
Talk to me.
[ Let him learn. All of him is simply focused on making this good, making this right, and he leans closer as the words rumble out of him. ]
no subject
Talk to me.
[ Let him learn. All of him is simply focused on making this good, making this right, and he leans closer as the words rumble out of him. ]