[ It's his last comment that sharpens his gaze, but he can't seem to hold it for long. His stomach feels marginally better from the mess he made on the floor, and the surprisingly restful sleep might have done him some good, but now that he's awake there's no denying the shape he's in.
His memory still feels hazy, muted under the pulse of whatever is torturing him, but he seems to recall Eleven being there in the moments before he passed out. ]
A few minutes.
[ He sits back and wipes at his face with a dirty hand. Eleven may soon regret that offer, because now that he's looking at him he's suddenly interested. ]
no subject
His memory still feels hazy, muted under the pulse of whatever is torturing him, but he seems to recall Eleven being there in the moments before he passed out. ]
A few minutes.
[ He sits back and wipes at his face with a dirty hand. Eleven may soon regret that offer, because now that he's looking at him he's suddenly interested. ]
What did you do?