The use of his first name is enough to crack Barrow's resolve, his restrained discomfort flashing into fury as his face hardens into a glare.
"Oh, fuck you," he snarls, and gives a quick jolt forward, only to rein himself back with a quick turn into another bout of pacing; there's enough of him in here still to know that attacking the healer would not end up well for anyone involved, but at the same time, he's quite certain he's never felt so angry or miserable in his life.
"What would you fucking know about it," he continues, clipped, as he bends himself down to grip the headboard of one of the infirmary's beds. His hands shake, rattling the whole frame with the effort to hold himself still. "With your-- little picture boxes and stupid--" he pauses to grit his teeth as an involuntary shudder ripples through him, "--stupid shoes." Somebody didn't like New York.
no subject
"Oh, fuck you," he snarls, and gives a quick jolt forward, only to rein himself back with a quick turn into another bout of pacing; there's enough of him in here still to know that attacking the healer would not end up well for anyone involved, but at the same time, he's quite certain he's never felt so angry or miserable in his life.
"What would you fucking know about it," he continues, clipped, as he bends himself down to grip the headboard of one of the infirmary's beds. His hands shake, rattling the whole frame with the effort to hold himself still. "With your-- little picture boxes and stupid--" he pauses to grit his teeth as an involuntary shudder ripples through him, "--stupid shoes." Somebody didn't like New York.