[After awhile, each shard of glass -- each painful jab -- starts to blend together. He can't say that he knows that Riley has pulled out the last, only knows that she's stopped for now. He remains bent over the sink, water still pouring over his wing, chest still heaving for air.]
Riley. [He tilts his chin up, searching for her own gaze.] I'm sorry.
[That's.... about all he has in him. He'll remain half-leaned, half-flopped over the sink, shuddering wishing that someone might put him out of his misery.]
no subject
Riley. [He tilts his chin up, searching for her own gaze.] I'm sorry.
[That's.... about all he has in him. He'll remain half-leaned, half-flopped over the sink, shuddering wishing that someone might put him out of his misery.]