KORBIN
But what does it take to break you, to awake you?
To make you bow and spit it out?
To make you bow and spit it out?
Her voice was grating, scraping his nerves, fraying patience that never really existed in the first place. The topic meant nothing to him, only carried some 'better than thou, you should be grateful' undertone that made his hackles rise. A growl began to rumble at the back of his throat, inaudible but there, present in the tension that grew more palpable around him with every word.
He did not relinquish his hold on the bottle, and would shove her away with the brusque jerk of an arm if she lingered too long in his space.
The scent of the tea made his stomach turn, nausea bubbling in the throat. If the air was lighter and less foul, it only made the reek of his own unwashed body more pronounced. It annoyed him that he even noticed it.
"Get out," he said softly, the words made more dangerous by how quiet they were.
He did not relinquish his hold on the bottle, and would shove her away with the brusque jerk of an arm if she lingered too long in his space.
The scent of the tea made his stomach turn, nausea bubbling in the throat. If the air was lighter and less foul, it only made the reek of his own unwashed body more pronounced. It annoyed him that he even noticed it.
"Get out," he said softly, the words made more dangerous by how quiet they were.
Doesn't matter if I hate you or embrace you
Nothing makes you turn around
Nothing makes you turn around
