I'm... not... Jigano looked around the clearing, fur poofed out in distress as he crouched on three legs, favoring the fourth. His gaze was drawn back to the nearby man with the bleeding wrist, and he recognized the taste on his tongue with flattened ears and widened eyes. A retching cough came from his throat as he tried to spit out the blood still in his mouth, skittering away from the mostly-black mess that came up to stain the snow. He panted, wild-eyed as he looked around again to see if there was anyone else with them.
You have to go away, he begged, the whine rising again in his throat in counterpoint to his desperate telepathy. I don't want to hurt you again! He pressed himself as low as he could get against the snow, misery in once-blue eyes as he looked mournfully up at Ianto. I'm sorry...
You have to go away, he begged, the whine rising again in his throat in counterpoint to his desperate telepathy. I don't want to hurt you again! He pressed himself as low as he could get against the snow, misery in once-blue eyes as he looked mournfully up at Ianto. I'm sorry...
