[and that someone is so lost in his head that he doesn't hear leo enter, even with how painstakingly he shuffles.
in front of the coffee maker as it quietly hisses, percolates, is donatello with his hands spread atop the counter, head down as if a great weight is hung about his neck. one of his more luxurious battle shells sits squarely over his shoulders, though it seems more like a cage than a shield.
his shoulders hitch, just briefly. settle, but then again, softer, twice. his next inhale is shaky and wet.]
no subject
in front of the coffee maker as it quietly hisses, percolates, is donatello with his hands spread atop the counter, head down as if a great weight is hung about his neck. one of his more luxurious battle shells sits squarely over his shoulders, though it seems more like a cage than a shield.
his shoulders hitch, just briefly. settle, but then again, softer, twice. his next inhale is shaky and wet.]