[He tenses as Silver comes closer. An intruder, unwanted. His voice comes out softer than he intends, blunted by the loss that permeates his bones.] ...Shut up.
[He reaches into his bag, eyes drifting from trowel to gloves to watering can, all so insignificant, so meaningless, pausing on the panpipes he'd tucked away. His fingers brush against them, hesitant.]
no subject
[He reaches into his bag, eyes drifting from trowel to gloves to watering can, all so insignificant, so meaningless, pausing on the panpipes he'd tucked away. His fingers brush against them, hesitant.]