[He finishes chewing, not reaching for another piece. His attention lingers on Hector instead, as if he's trying to gauge his will to live while he struggles and considering whether or not to put him out of his misery.]
...All this meat and no wine? [He remarks, sans the sneering twist of his lips that usually accompanies his criticisms. The disappointment is only partly feigned. Something harder is what he needs; something to wash away the taste of sick sticking in the back of his throat and smooth his frayed, battered nerves over. He needs to forget what he saw, the twisted perceptions of reality that had nearly killed them both and still live under his skin and behind his eyelids, keeping him awake.
He digs his nails into his arm, following Hector's line of sight. It's not hard to guess at what he likely wants from what he already has - fire, cloak, food, fairy - and not too long ago, Isaac knows he'd have dangled that canteen, willing him to crawl for it like it was something to be earned. Today, he only has the patience and meanness to grab it from somewhere behind him, tipped over but stopped, and pass it over with a lazy, underhanded throw, a dismissive throw, assuming Hector will catch it - and none too concerned if he doesn't.]
no subject
...All this meat and no wine? [He remarks, sans the sneering twist of his lips that usually accompanies his criticisms. The disappointment is only partly feigned. Something harder is what he needs; something to wash away the taste of sick sticking in the back of his throat and smooth his frayed, battered nerves over. He needs to forget what he saw, the twisted perceptions of reality that had nearly killed them both and still live under his skin and behind his eyelids, keeping him awake.
He digs his nails into his arm, following Hector's line of sight. It's not hard to guess at what he likely wants from what he already has - fire, cloak, food, fairy - and not too long ago, Isaac knows he'd have dangled that canteen, willing him to crawl for it like it was something to be earned. Today, he only has the patience and meanness to grab it from somewhere behind him, tipped over but stopped, and pass it over with a lazy, underhanded throw, a dismissive throw, assuming Hector will catch it - and none too concerned if he doesn't.]