[It's odd to see his own body standing in front of him.]
Um...
[No, talking still isn't going to work, even if it's his first instinct when it comes to communication. He reaches for the notebook he has among his scattered books and writes--his writing is hurried but surprisingly neat for its speed.]
no subject
Um...
[No, talking still isn't going to work, even if it's his first instinct when it comes to communication. He reaches for the notebook he has among his scattered books and writes--his writing is hurried but surprisingly neat for its speed.]
I'm Iceland. Who are you?