Alone in the suddenly-oppressive room, Robert sits silently, not even able to summon the composure necessary to stand and follow Don.
Instead he stares at the tea. The surface is rippled with just the barest hints of Don's movement still stirring it. A part of Robert fancies that Leo might've put it down, or something equally inane.
He's not really sure when he starts crying, but it must be happening, because his face is wet.]
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Alone in the suddenly-oppressive room, Robert sits silently, not even able to summon the composure necessary to stand and follow Don.
Instead he stares at the tea. The surface is rippled with just the barest hints of Don's movement still stirring it. A part of Robert fancies that Leo might've put it down, or something equally inane.
He's not really sure when he starts crying, but it must be happening, because his face is wet.]