[it's frustrating. he wants to lash out and just beat it into Coil until he gets it. that's part of why his shoulders and arms are so tight, wound up with the only way he really knows how to show how he's feeling. and it bothers him a little that he likes the way Coil feels, an open well of despair and agony. he cracked him open for this, he had kind of hoped... and he drinks it up just like he drank up his words a second ago. it makes him stronger, makes him sharper. helps clear his head.
but his frustration doesn't quell and how familiar all the separate parts are doesn't go away, and he is in no way inclined to give up. he wants to--needs to make him better, because it makes him sick otherwise.
so he moves. one hand keeps the other close, wrapped around his neck (fingers pressing gripping digging into his shoulder). with the other, he guides their heads back together and digs to find Coil's mind, projects a single idea, a question. 'What do you need?']
no subject
but his frustration doesn't quell and how familiar all the separate parts are doesn't go away, and he is in no way inclined to give up. he wants to--needs to make him better, because it makes him sick otherwise.
so he moves. one hand keeps the other close, wrapped around his neck (fingers pressing gripping digging into his shoulder). with the other, he guides their heads back together and digs to find Coil's mind, projects a single idea, a question. 'What do you need?']