[ welcome to dissociation at the disco, yi sang. because that's what emil sinclair feels right now, with the flashing LEDs and the power of an extrovert who's 5'10" in spirit and an extrovert who's actually 5'10".
and all sinclair can say, to the talk of chopping off ankles, to the talk of the abyss and don quixote's terrible reasoning for the insane amount of rubbing alcohol put on that cotton ball that he's going to have to remember to replace, to the real!fake!adult who walked in here and is trying to wrangle the mess he's already tried to wrangle is— ]
no subject
and all sinclair can say, to the talk of chopping off ankles, to the talk of the abyss and don quixote's terrible reasoning for the insane amount of rubbing alcohol put on that cotton ball that he's going to have to remember to replace, to the real!fake!adult who walked in here and is trying to wrangle the mess he's already tried to wrangle is— ]
Please save yourself, Mister Yi Sang.
[ it's so over. ]