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2016-01-05 03:24 am (UTC)
It isn't until Morgan leans back a little from him that Moritz realizes the way he's looming, but he's stretched too thin for more guilt to be properly added to the mix. Still, he stands temporarily down - he steps back as well, shifting weight from foot to foot, anxious like a caged animal. The revelation that this guy shared after
meeting him is too spot-on to escape suspicion, but it also somehow...vaults over that suspicion, because how could something like that be faked? Unless this Morgan guy is a
fucking actor. And even Moritz, at his current height of self-interest, can't imagine anyone who hates him so much that they'd put up a stranger to this sort of act.
So, that leaves him with, what...this being true?
Moritz watches Morgan, wary. "I...dunno that I need a beer right now, but-- but sure, let's go somewhere private, I don't wanna get overheard eith--" And then he stops, because his entire fucking world happens to stop with the rest of Morgan's words. His lungs empty as if he was punched in the stomach, and everything in him feels like it's bruised, so maybe he just missed someone knocking him in the solar plexus.
"You--" It comes out as a wheeze. "
?" The tears that had taken a short vacation over the past few days of numbness are finally, suddenly welling at the corners of his eyes, just shy of falling down his cheeks. "You-- you
shitting me, are you, you
know, how could you know--" Moritz is taking one, two steps away, one fist going up to hover in front of his mouth.
"W-why would you say that to me?" Is spat, high and fearful and suddenly
as well. Self-hatred kicks in protectively, defensively, terrified he's being lied to. Even as his eyebrows crumple down, something desperately livid in his expression, several tears start to track down Moritz's face.
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