[L starts to address Connor's first request, seeming to object; by his standards, it hardly qualifies as hurting himself for the sake of a goal. Small incremental forms of self-abuse are very normal for him, after all, from sleepless nights to an endless supply of sugar and caffeine in place of other forms of sustenance and energy. His career was so dangerous that he has foregone a name, even an identity outside of it.
The words die in his throat at the second question, because... well, hell yes, it make him uncomfortable. Very obviously so, because his hands have both crept up to pull at the hairs nearest the nape of his neck in fistfuls. The cut, which is yet to stop bleeding and no longer being sucked on, drips in a line of mixed blood and saliva down his wrist.]
It's highly unnecessary.
[The words are measured, forcibly calm, even though everything about his body language radiates low-key panic.]
no subject
The words die in his throat at the second question, because... well, hell yes, it make him uncomfortable. Very obviously so, because his hands have both crept up to pull at the hairs nearest the nape of his neck in fistfuls. The cut, which is yet to stop bleeding and no longer being sucked on, drips in a line of mixed blood and saliva down his wrist.]
It's highly unnecessary.
[The words are measured, forcibly calm, even though everything about his body language radiates low-key panic.]