[ John whistles out a breath, long and low. He only has the gist of what he's saying, but that's enough. Something has eaten away the whole core of him; he feels like a collection of scraps, dizzy with migraine when he focuses too intently on anything above or below the dirt; why not accept that he's going in circles, too? ]
Huh. Alright.
[ He regards Aizawa more thoughtfully, this time, and offers out a hand: frank and open, his palm clean and bare. ]
no subject
Huh. Alright.
[ He regards Aizawa more thoughtfully, this time, and offers out a hand: frank and open, his palm clean and bare. ]
Skeleton armies it is. I'm John.