Date: 2020-10-14 09:57 pm (UTC)
eyediot: (that it's me who was to blame)
From: [personal profile] eyediot
Please.

[He can't see it himself right now, the bits of green static trying desperately to get through the desolation red, but no dice. Once the buttons are undone, he shrugs his good arm out of the sleeve and then starts getting the other off. And it's a blotch over his entire shoulder, stretching up to his neck and almost past his collarbone of a burn, ice cold to the touch. Peter may not have had months to manipulate Jon, but he had him in one of the worst laces imaginable.]
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