my demons, though quiet, are never quite silenced
Finn's hands retreat back away from the book he'd been about to select, as if he has just realised he's left them hanging there. Down to his sides they go, where they instantly start to worry at a thread near the bottom of his shirt. "Oh," he echoes, unsure how to navigate these waters and clearing his throat awkwardly "I'm doing well," he replies automatically, before glancing back around the library as if it might offer some sort of help.
Quite what help, he doesn't know. "Is there... can I help at all?" he asks, relying on social conventions that he knows he can follow the strings of, but it's like a scarf unravelling before him. "Or do you... would you prefer to be alone?"
Quite what help, he doesn't know. "Is there... can I help at all?" he asks, relying on social conventions that he knows he can follow the strings of, but it's like a scarf unravelling before him. "Or do you... would you prefer to be alone?"
FINN
