[L's been still, but there are still a series of restless, jerking movements that don't seem quite voluntary, ranging from fidgets to spasms. Whether they're sudden and ineffective bids to escape or just his rapid, shallow breath, he's never completely motionless.
That changes with Near's order; he releases his labored breath in a sigh. Now, he's hardly breathing at all, shallow and silent the way it is for one on the edge of a sedated sleep.
He peers up blearily, allowing Near easy eye contact for the second part. He's tired, to the point where it's a lot to ask of him to give the words voice, but he nods, and follows through.]
Eli... Dagwood, Linden Tailor. Eli Dagwood, Linden... Tailor....
[The words aren't quite sung, the way Inuit throat singing isn't. It resembles the latter a bit more in his struggle.]
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That changes with Near's order; he releases his labored breath in a sigh. Now, he's hardly breathing at all, shallow and silent the way it is for one on the edge of a sedated sleep.
He peers up blearily, allowing Near easy eye contact for the second part. He's tired, to the point where it's a lot to ask of him to give the words voice, but he nods, and follows through.]
Eli... Dagwood, Linden Tailor. Eli Dagwood, Linden... Tailor....
[The words aren't quite sung, the way Inuit throat singing isn't. It resembles the latter a bit more in his struggle.]