living skyward

He's a skeleton. Soft and fuzzy on the inside (as someone very small and precious said), all hard edges and cool bone on the outside. But he is what he is and no one else is here for them--he can only do his best.

So he takes the hint, lying down on the bed above the covers. Skeletons, they don't really get chilly.

"It-t will be fine."

There. That wasn't so bad, as speech goes. He... needs practice.