—— Ɗown his jugular, traveled a thick, jittery gulp of saliva——his muscles cinched into paralyzing knots, tensing his body. Charles' desperation to slither off the dead giveaway of attire that hid his flesh, skyrocketed by each tick of the clock into.. whatever, unfamiliar fashion others had worn upon their flesh. 



❝I...❞ 


——— ℭharles always battled the struggle of accepting a helping hand, perhaps due to his naturally independent nature. But right now——like this——no didn't fall into the category of an answer. He uttered, the words that moved his tongue hopefully not too carking.



❝I suppose so.❞