[ His arm is their comfort object now, and they press up against his side, silent and tense as if waiting for the lights to switch back on, like if they wait and wait and wait it'll have to happen at some point.
...
A little whine escapes them. Why aren't the lights turning back on? It's been almost a minute. ]
no subject
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A little whine escapes them. Why aren't the lights turning back on? It's been almost a minute. ]