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Summary
YOU - You can tell Kim is wound tight. He holds his hands together behind his back. Almost in a reverse prayer. A prayer to help him, save him. His jaw clenched, holding the stress of Elysium not on his upright shoulders, but the gaps between his molars.
INTERFACING - Placing your palm on the side of his cheek. You feel his skin on your hand, between soft and hard.
YOU - Fuck Dolores Dei and her glowing lungs. Kim Kitsuragi is the only one that you’ll worship like a howling dog.
(or)
Harry Du Bois tries to figure his shit out. Kim is along for the ride.
