Work Text:
Angel is going on day three and it is difficult to stand up straight.
That’s part of the goal, when he has enough of a break to think about it. It makes him dizzy, unable to focus or protest very much. Weak and stupid and malleable.
It’s both better and worse, than being so strung out he can’t see straight. He used to like the drugs. Filled the world with bright stars.
Now, the idea of losing his awareness makes him nauseous, even more than the hunger.
He needs to know what happens to him.
Vox has already done enough.