[What? He blinks at her, still rubbing his hand through his hair and trying to deep-breathe away the last of the vertigo. It's persisting, but he can think through it. Or—he thinks he can, anyway. But that question, her demeanor, it feels like it's out of left field.
His heart picks up, and he swallows, brow furrowing. She'd found something out. What did he do? What did she find out? Who told her? His brain casts around for anything—]
I, I wouldn't. 'Course I wouldn't . . . why? What?
no subject
[What? He blinks at her, still rubbing his hand through his hair and trying to deep-breathe away the last of the vertigo. It's persisting, but he can think through it. Or—he thinks he can, anyway. But that question, her demeanor, it feels like it's out of left field.
His heart picks up, and he swallows, brow furrowing. She'd found something out. What did he do? What did she find out? Who told her? His brain casts around for anything—]
I, I wouldn't. 'Course I wouldn't . . . why? What?