A minute, [ he repeats. Sure, not that painful. He rolls his head, then sits back to wait, arms crossed, one leg thrown over the other. His eyes close, and he doesn't say anything, instead attentive to the functions of his body, waiting for a sign that the anaphrodisiac is taking effect. The baseline seems the same as his condition before he ingested the medicine: he feels warmer than usual, and certain parts of his body feel hypersensitive, like they're simply waiting for a touch.
He gives it maybe two minutes before he speaks up. ]
Am I supposed to feel it working by now?
[ His tone comes out tight and gruff, and his posture—initially patient and waiting—reflects the new attitude. While he hasn't changed the way he's sitting at all, his fists are now clenched and a tension runs through his legs—wholly unlike someone who's found relief in her cure. ]
no subject
He gives it maybe two minutes before he speaks up. ]
Am I supposed to feel it working by now?
[ His tone comes out tight and gruff, and his posture—initially patient and waiting—reflects the new attitude. While he hasn't changed the way he's sitting at all, his fists are now clenched and a tension runs through his legs—wholly unlike someone who's found relief in her cure. ]