[Moving free of Leander's grip needs no strength at all, and once released he takes his hand back into his lap and leaves it there, both palm up, fingers and arms loose. (Minimal discomfort; he knows from experience.) He follows Isaac with a slow turn of his head to witness, dimly, the furtive entrance and exchange.
Alexandrie steps out of her clothes and comes to him just the way she is, and surreality finally closes over the crown of his head. Sensation of floating. The writhing of his subconscious prying and squeezing itself into waking time: a smooth-skinned celestial vision juxtaposed to suffering and gore.
He's still sitting upright, still hasn't fallen over—Isaac asked him about the door, there's work yet to do and he must be present for it—but again the sag of his posture says his body's considering it. Glassy eyes and silence. This time, he doesn't smile back. But he is pliable; he will do whatever is asked of him.
(And, captivated though he is, he will keep turning his head to make sure Isaac is still there.)]
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Alexandrie steps out of her clothes and comes to him just the way she is, and surreality finally closes over the crown of his head. Sensation of floating. The writhing of his subconscious prying and squeezing itself into waking time: a smooth-skinned celestial vision juxtaposed to suffering and gore.
He's still sitting upright, still hasn't fallen over—Isaac asked him about the door, there's work yet to do and he must be present for it—but again the sag of his posture says his body's considering it. Glassy eyes and silence. This time, he doesn't smile back. But he is pliable; he will do whatever is asked of him.
(And, captivated though he is, he will keep turning his head to make sure Isaac is still there.)]