[ Unable to think of a retort, he shut his mouth and gives her a weak glare. The glare persists even as she leaves the room, his eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, but then she returns with soup, and the glare morphs into confusion. Food? Why is she feeding him? Come to think of it, why is she doing any of this at all? It seems incredibly contrary to her character! It’s as if she were…
Well.
It’s as if she were Razumikhin, taking care of him while he was ill. That couldn’t have been more than a few weeks ago, when he was back in Russia. He had been sick, feverish with guilt stress and nerves. It had been after he had done that thing.
He’d mentioned the illness to Agathe, hadn’t he? He thinks he might of, but he can’t really remember, and an increasingly large part of his mind is in his apartment in Petersburg. ]
‘M not hungry, [ he says, ignoring the aching pit in his stomach. When was the last time he’d eaten? ] Just leave me alone.
no subject
Well.
It’s as if she were Razumikhin, taking care of him while he was ill. That couldn’t have been more than a few weeks ago, when he was back in Russia. He had been sick, feverish with
guiltstress and nerves. It had been after he had done that thing.He’d mentioned the illness to Agathe, hadn’t he? He thinks he might of, but he can’t really remember, and an increasingly large part of his mind is in his apartment in Petersburg. ]
‘M not hungry, [ he says, ignoring the aching pit in his stomach. When was the last time he’d eaten? ] Just leave me alone.