[ With Fitz balanced (as balanced he gets, that is), Johnny leads him down a winding path. Slow to start, with intrusions only of passing interest, boxed up and set aside before Fitz can rifle through them. Johnny's cleverness had been obvious — but the control on display now surprises him. A faint spark at his end of the bond, snuffed by what Johnny soon musters. It's difficult to sit still and accept what comes, knowing that his want to analyse it must transfer, even without an active pursuit of the impulse.
Fitz keeps watch throughout, adjusting his grip as Johnny opens his eyes. ]
A lot. [ at once. ] Feel confused. [ Bit itchy, bit hot, bit off. His features scrunch. ] Sort of — hopeful. Anticipating. Or, ah, cross. Not sure.
[ A look down at their hands, still linked, and then at his palm flat on the table, where his wound smarts, pulling his focus. ]
no subject
Fitz keeps watch throughout, adjusting his grip as Johnny opens his eyes. ]
A lot. [ at once. ] Feel confused. [ Bit itchy, bit hot, bit off. His features scrunch. ] Sort of — hopeful. Anticipating. Or, ah, cross. Not sure.
[ A look down at their hands, still linked, and then at his palm flat on the table, where his wound smarts, pulling his focus. ]