[ What ever it is "he'll--", she doesn't say. She bites down with an audible click, jaw clenching, as her hands move to cover her face. They comb up, the heels of her palms pressing against her eyes (or rather, one against her eye, the other against that off-red eye patch). With her hands at the focus of the camera, it's easy to see the way they tremble; how her left hand digs in harder, the gold ring on her third finger catching the light, while her right hand can't be nearly so forceful, its two center fingers still splinted together for a break.
From the forceful way she tries to regulate her breathing--and from the uneven sounds to some inhales and exchanges--it seems she's trying to keep herself from tears. ]
Stupid, stupid idiot...
[ Her right hand drops away, but the left remains where it is. Though she looks less frustrated, less actively upset, the trade does not seem to be a positive one. Misery now looks more tired, resigned.
no subject
[ What ever it is "he'll--", she doesn't say. She bites down with an audible click, jaw clenching, as her hands move to cover her face. They comb up, the heels of her palms pressing against her eyes (or rather, one against her eye, the other against that off-red eye patch). With her hands at the focus of the camera, it's easy to see the way they tremble; how her left hand digs in harder, the gold ring on her third finger catching the light, while her right hand can't be nearly so forceful, its two center fingers still splinted together for a break.
From the forceful way she tries to regulate her breathing--and from the uneven sounds to some inhales and exchanges--it seems she's trying to keep herself from tears. ]
Stupid, stupid idiot...
[ Her right hand drops away, but the left remains where it is. Though she looks less frustrated, less actively upset, the trade does not seem to be a positive one. Misery now looks more tired, resigned.
Futile. ]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice.