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Summary
In the end, it was the lesser of two evils. He claimed his mouth and claimed his breath, for otherwise he might find himself squeezing his neck instead. He touched him, for it was preferable to give him this smaller death than the real one, more damning, more irreversible. He felt his blood thrum under his palm and knew he couldn't soil his hands with it, so he dirtied them differently, in a way that would be easier to clean.