[ There are parts of Randel that want that, more than anything. Parts that would love to sink into a stupor or a haze and never feel all the terrible things he feels most of the time. But he can't quite let himself do it, whether it's from fear or guilt, so he keeps things sober. The hands don't need any help, after all. They filter in and out of his vision as they please even when he's had nothing but water, just because he knows he shouldn't be allowing himself this, this place, these people, feeling good. ]
no subject
I am.