Otter cranks the heat up as soon as they get into the car, but it gets too stifling too soon, and it makes Landis feel like clawing his way out of his own skin. He presses his head back against the headrest and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore how uncomfortable every inch of his body feels, his skin caked with mud and blood and God knows what else. The sleeve of his jacket is ruined from Gen slicing into his arm with the knife. He runs the torn edges between his fingers, catching stray threads with his nails, pulling them out. It’s almost soothing.
landis your internalized ableism and ptsd!!!!