[ He hums noncommittally, heading to a drawer to pull out fresh clothing – a pair of sweats, an old, ratty t-shirt.
He glances over his shoulder, seeing Vasquez getting himself put together, and he feels an odd, split-second twist in his gut, something cold and bitter. ]
You could—
[ The words leave him without conscious thought, but he stops himself, jaw clenching.
Stupid, he thinks to himself, as he pulls on his pants. ]
no subject
He glances over his shoulder, seeing Vasquez getting himself put together, and he feels an odd, split-second twist in his gut, something cold and bitter. ]
You could—
[ The words leave him without conscious thought, but he stops himself, jaw clenching.
Stupid, he thinks to himself, as he pulls on his pants. ]
Never mind.