( Yeah, it's okay, he completely gets it. He's taken to gently tapping one palm with the thick handle end of the screwdriver, a kind of bouncing rhythm — slow, quiet, contemplative. No vibrating anxious energy here, it's all neatly tucked down deep. )
I mean, to be fair you're really... good at carrying... stuff.
( Lamely, and with an almost apologetic look on his face just as soon as he finishes getting it out.
He tried, and therefor no one can criticize him. )
It's the...
( Vague gesture to his own bicep, two fingers curled around the screwdriver to keep from dropping it. )
no subject
I mean, to be fair you're really... good at carrying... stuff.
( Lamely, and with an almost apologetic look on his face just as soon as he finishes getting it out.
He tried, and therefor no one can criticize him. )
It's the...
( Vague gesture to his own bicep, two fingers curled around the screwdriver to keep from dropping it. )