[ boothill was just here, listening to all of it, being sure that she had whatever she needed. he knows why she's apologizing, and he agonizes over whether to wake her or just let her get the rest she desperately needs. dreams and nightmares fashion themselves out of feelings, not truths.
when that hand turns to hold his, boothill jolts from his half-consciousness, where he'd burrowed into his thoughts. he squeezes her hand and looks at her face, nearly dropping the whiskey bottle from his hand. he places it down at the very last second.
he splays his free hand on the bed and leans towards her. ]
no subject
when that hand turns to hold his, boothill jolts from his half-consciousness, where he'd burrowed into his thoughts. he squeezes her hand and looks at her face, nearly dropping the whiskey bottle from his hand. he places it down at the very last second.
he splays his free hand on the bed and leans towards her. ]
Karlach...?