[something between the two of them gets through; he is taut in Keith's grip, but no longer struggling, paused and still (he notices the scratches he indents into Keith's face, but distantly, like he did it hours ago)]
[he makes a distrustful, contorted face as Naomi grabs his wrist, which sets deeper as she slides her hand into his, expression clouding like angry and ashamed (it's intimate and uncomfortable and he hates it, hates being touched right now). he keeps it together, and he squeezes her hand not hard enough to squash the bones together, but hard enough to communicate that thrum of dulled, constant pain (they had painkillers, sure, cheap over the counter shit; but he's mostly just gotten used to it, that twinge and ache and burn)]
What are you gonna do?
[it's strained, but it gets out (he'd told that shitty cop he wasn't scared)]
no subject
[he makes a distrustful, contorted face as Naomi grabs his wrist, which sets deeper as she slides her hand into his, expression clouding like angry and ashamed (it's intimate and uncomfortable and he hates it, hates being touched right now). he keeps it together, and he squeezes her hand not hard enough to squash the bones together, but hard enough to communicate that thrum of dulled, constant pain (they had painkillers, sure, cheap over the counter shit; but he's mostly just gotten used to it, that twinge and ache and burn)]
What are you gonna do?
[it's strained, but it gets out (he'd told that shitty cop he wasn't scared)]