"Sshhhhit oh no," Martin despairs. "Oh that was so stupid. Oh my god. I'm an idiot. Okay, ahhh..."
There is a feeble attempt made to right the door as guilt pools in Martin's stomach. He's not even really sure why. No one even lives here. Part of it certainly is that he is a person who struggles with guilt very much, having lived the life that he has. Just another blunder on the endless list of Martin Blackwood's ill-conceived ideas. But there's something else to it, anxiety pooling in his gut like someone is going to yell at him. Or worse.
"Ooooh no no no, I didn't mean to--- I didn't think it would---" There is nothing that can be done for the door. He sets it aside, fretting, staring at the darkened interior of the house and trying to decide how to proceed.
no subject
There is a feeble attempt made to right the door as guilt pools in Martin's stomach. He's not even really sure why. No one even lives here. Part of it certainly is that he is a person who struggles with guilt very much, having lived the life that he has. Just another blunder on the endless list of Martin Blackwood's ill-conceived ideas. But there's something else to it, anxiety pooling in his gut like someone is going to yell at him. Or worse.
"Ooooh no no no, I didn't mean to--- I didn't think it would---" There is nothing that can be done for the door. He sets it aside, fretting, staring at the darkened interior of the house and trying to decide how to proceed.