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[greenzone]

"Hey, you've reached Willa, leave a message.

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[greenzone]

"That's true. I guess a gross mouth is interesting if you've never really had one."

She strokes the mask lightly, aware of that swirling something he's keeping distant.

"Why're you looking for Arthur?"

[greatoldjohn]

[Someone said something about... us. Me. How I have his eyes. The whole situation.

I wanted to talk to him about it.]

[greenzone]

"Do you want to talk about it now?" She tries to offer the warmth of her own desire to be a comfort, how much she wants him to be happy.

[greatoldjohn]

It helps. She'll feel something answering, like a hand over hers on his shoulder.

[ There's not much to talk about. I know how he feels.

Arthur, I mean. ]

Maybe he wanted to be wrong, though. Or told he's wrong, anyway. Even if it was just for a few days.

[greenzone]

"I'm not asking how he feels. I want to know how you feel."

The words are blunt, but her tone is soft.

[greatoldjohn]

He considers the question. And he considers how he might answer the question.

[Bad.]

[greenzone]

"What kind of bad?" It's patient, almost coaxing. "Like... When you think about how you're feeling, what other times does it remind you of? Or. If you don't want to say that. Um... My therapist told me to talk about the way my body feels, like what physical sensations I got, but that's kind of not useful for you, I guess."

[greatoldjohn]

[ Not really, no. ]

Sorry, just the truth. He wishes it did, though he's not sure how helpful that would be either.

[It reminds me of being in the dark.

I hate being in the dark. ]