plot twist twistin' my heart 'til it's hollow
band-aids for all my scraped knees
Clem doesn't jump or startle or any of those other silly, babyish responses to the shuffling and the voice that suddenly rips him from his concentration. Wide flaxen eyes jerk to the perpetrator, wondering how he'd missed the man in the first place. But after taking in the sleep-addled gaze and sincere advice, Clem relaxes, deciding he's probably not a threat.
He does hesitate over the next stroke of the knife. Suddenly doubting his actions. Turning in his seat he holds one object in each hand, confused, cheeks puffing out against his will in proof of his frustration. "Uh, can you show me how?" He'd only ever wielded a knife in self defense, which was a very different grip than carving. And he wanted this to be perfect.
He does hesitate over the next stroke of the knife. Suddenly doubting his actions. Turning in his seat he holds one object in each hand, confused, cheeks puffing out against his will in proof of his frustration. "Uh, can you show me how?" He'd only ever wielded a knife in self defense, which was a very different grip than carving. And he wanted this to be perfect.
blankets when i had bad dreams
felt like nothin' could hurt me
CLEMENTE
