[ oh, so . . . oh. it might be mild in comparison, physically, but who was he to call any scar mild? how'd he lose his arm? a tale for later, maybe . . . if he were to be okay with talking about it. that at least gets the boy to ease his shoulders, not yet pulling the blanket down, but gradually doing so as erwin began reading. he wanted to straighten his back and lean in closer each time, occasionally bringing his gaze to the man and back to the open book. by the time he's gotten to the third verse, the blanket is completely on his lap and his jaws exposed. he's watching erwin more than he is the book. out of concentration, muted enthusiasm and a grand amount of growing respect. ]
Is this a true story?
[ murmured and stiff because of the shape his mouth took, it's the first time he's spoken in days. ]
no subject
Is this a true story?
[ murmured and stiff because of the shape his mouth took, it's the first time he's spoken in days. ]