[ He goes down with him, braced on a bent arm so as not to crush Jin Guangyao. It's nice, if still surreal, to be in his arms after so much has happened and having spent so, so much time alone. If his ears turn pink, no, they don't. He busies himself brushing Jin Guangyao's hair smooth against the blankets. ]
Yet here I am, listening to you talk about golden chamberpots.
no subject
Yet here I am, listening to you talk about golden chamberpots.