[Sorry, Archie. When Guzma's like this, his scope is very limited. Hell, he doesn't even need to be like this for it to be limited, he's just less likely to try to widen it... but that gentleness of Archie's hands helps a bit. There's a notable pause from Guzma, before he acquiesces. His hold doesn't release, but it's less aggressive, like he's using that grip to try to find some sort of grounding.]
...Shit. I—fuck I know you ain't.
[The swirl of emotions going through Guzma is rapid and unrelenting. Anger, sorrow, frustration, grief, hatred, guilt...
Guzma moves, but not away from Archie. Instead, he leans forward and rests his head on Archie's shoulder. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't let go. He just rests there. The heat of the room is still high, but it seems to have stalled in its rise. Feeling more suffocating and oppressive in its mugginess.
Finally:]
...Why'd it have to be her, man. I—she... fuck dude, I lo—
[He chokes on that word, letting the first syllable barely escape him before he cuts it off. Drunk or not, that's a whole thing to get into, and he's not even sure if he can. His head is swimming and swamped with emotions and thoughts. All running a mile a minute, and the only thing that's keeping him from disassociating completely is Archie, honestly. Feeling his shirt in his hands, his hands on his own, his forehead against his shoulder... that's keeping him grounded. Keeping him here.]
no subject
...Shit. I—fuck I know you ain't.
[The swirl of emotions going through Guzma is rapid and unrelenting. Anger, sorrow, frustration, grief, hatred, guilt...
Guzma moves, but not away from Archie. Instead, he leans forward and rests his head on Archie's shoulder. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't let go. He just rests there. The heat of the room is still high, but it seems to have stalled in its rise. Feeling more suffocating and oppressive in its mugginess.
Finally:]
...Why'd it have to be her, man. I—she... fuck dude, I lo—
[He chokes on that word, letting the first syllable barely escape him before he cuts it off. Drunk or not, that's a whole thing to get into, and he's not even sure if he can. His head is swimming and swamped with emotions and thoughts. All running a mile a minute, and the only thing that's keeping him from disassociating completely is Archie, honestly. Feeling his shirt in his hands, his hands on his own, his forehead against his shoulder... that's keeping him grounded. Keeping him here.]