a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
“I… Uh, no.” Well, he’d almost had it without tripping up. He frowns a bit deeper, scar on the side of his face twisting with the movement. “I have to take over… Meeting people.” He sighs, because his father’s health, while keeping him strong enough to work had slowed with each subsequent Deepfrost since the accident, and he wanted nothing more than to retire and have Glas figure it out and keep it running. But he can’t actively say that, not with how he can hardly string the words together at the moment.
His frustration is evident, lifting the glass cup and draining the rest of the tea before it got cold, and setting it back down on the table as he mulls it over. “I have to keep the shop.” Keep it running, keep it working. It was all his parents wanted of him when they knew they couldn’t fully fix him. So surely, surely that was the least Glas could do, even if he didn’t want to?
His frustration is evident, lifting the glass cup and draining the rest of the tea before it got cold, and setting it back down on the table as he mulls it over. “I have to keep the shop.” Keep it running, keep it working. It was all his parents wanted of him when they knew they couldn’t fully fix him. So surely, surely that was the least Glas could do, even if he didn’t want to?
a thousand voices dead at my feet
GLAS
