[ his brain still threatens to panic. it's there on the horizon, worrisome, trying to creep in at the edges of his mind. but he's trying his best and that's what matters, isn't it? that he's somehow managing to keep himself in check and focused. ] Yes, those. [ he moves his hand when he's instructed but the way graves holds the wound with slick fingers makes him frown. ] Your hand is going to slip. Let me do it. [ without even thinking. he will though, wiping his own gloved fingers on some gauze to dry them before pressing at it himself, holding it so graves can concentrate on stitching. breathe in, breathe out. back to what you were talking about. don't panic. you're fine. he's fine. ]

I had a couple of the broken ones from the tests... [ of course he did. ] The raspberry lemon ones were good, but I didn't like the ones with kiwi much. I don't remember the other fruit with them, it wasn't strawberry. Maybe coconut.[ he'd give a wry little smile here normally. ] Those ones are Queenie's favorite, though.