[He doesn’t look back, he can’t. Fear is keeping him from doing so, and he isn’t sure why. Both hands and extends out, anchoring on the counter in front of him as his head hung forward, focusing on the kettle.
The more Inigo questions this, more his mind shrouds in doubts.]
Then. What am I suppose to feel? [He answers back, softly, curious, and scared.]
no subject
The more Inigo questions this, more his mind shrouds in doubts.]
Then. What am I suppose to feel? [He answers back, softly, curious, and scared.]
He is home.
[That’s right.]
Away from this place.
[Away from…]
This should be fine…
[Right?]