[She’s not the first mother here not sure what became of her children. Dixon’s been running into a lot of them lately. They’ve carved a specific pit of sympathy into his heart. He thinks of his own mother, pounding on the bathroom door to be let in and help as he nearly passed out from being beaten half to death, the terror in her voice at her baby so bloodied.
He adjusts his position so Mrs. Brisby is a little closer to face level, wincing as it jostles his injured shoulder.]
no subject
[She’s not the first mother here not sure what became of her children. Dixon’s been running into a lot of them lately. They’ve carved a specific pit of sympathy into his heart. He thinks of his own mother, pounding on the bathroom door to be let in and help as he nearly passed out from being beaten half to death, the terror in her voice at her baby so bloodied.
He adjusts his position so Mrs. Brisby is a little closer to face level, wincing as it jostles his injured shoulder.]