[ John lets him. He catches his breath eerily fast, every time: the moment the compulsion drops, his own control returns. It's viscerally unpleasant to lose it each time, like watching a limb spasm.
He hasn't choked like this since the earliest days. Lifetimes or a dream ago, back when he didn't know how not to drown. ]
It's a new game for every month in the calendar. Tests, trials, somebody's idea of Purgatory... there's usually a trick to solving it.
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He hasn't choked like this since the earliest days. Lifetimes or a dream ago, back when he didn't know how not to drown. ]
It's a new game for every month in the calendar. Tests, trials, somebody's idea of Purgatory... there's usually a trick to solving it.