restitution He followed Jack as he always did, with little question but a lot of passive bitching. The shadows were clear and he felt good, the kind of good borne from a job well done and weary bones. Satisfied, satiated. And then--
It was impossible to breath. His eyes fluttered wide, looking up, searching, trying to take in air and failing with a wheeze. Leslie's fingers came up to clutch at Jack's arms, he's too-hot, overheated, as hot as the sun.
Jack, he mouthed, face gone red, body shaking like a live wire. It lasts one second, two, a long handful before Leslie got his wits enough to elbow him in the kidneys, sharp.
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