Knocking off the dust

[angel_of_death]

 You win, typist. I do... miss them. I guess. It's been awfully quiet.

[And he has been in somewhat of a slumber for a few months. So, it's time to stretch his limbs-- in the literal sense as well as the figurative. Arms raised over his head in a languid arch, he doesn't even bother to stifle the yawn that escapes him.]

I'd forgotten what it was like not being able to share my thoughts with others. It's... [Stifling. Suffocating. Those are the words that come to mind, but he tones it down. He doesn't like to appear weak. It isn't even about hiding weakness from others-- he doesn't even want to admit it to himself.]

Irritating. It's bloody well irritating, that's what it is. 

[He deliberately falls back, stretching out the length of whatever flooring it is that exists in this place between places as he absently runs a hand through his hair.]

You've got that application ready. Go on and send it in. Soon, if you please.