[the kiss to the side of his head rattles that place it had before, but not as strongly (he's not as broken-open receptive, all his armor still up, and the signal doesn't transmit). the line of his mouth turns down, into that unappealing scowl -- he's sick to fucking death of hearing that, of I'm sorry]
[swamp green eye pinning the outline of her to the space before him, like a scientist's dissection table, he snaps]
For fuckin' what? What're you so goddamn sorry about? What is your fucking problem, already?
Re: action
[swamp green eye pinning the outline of her to the space before him, like a scientist's dissection table, he snaps]
For fuckin' what? What're you so goddamn sorry about? What is your fucking problem, already?