[Frustration still brims full within the cup of his sanity, but he tamps down on it with effort as he moves nearer (he is not the man he once was, that much remains true), reaching to set hands across those narrow shoulders.
He cannot feel how cold they must be through the thickness of his gloves.]
no subject
He cannot feel how cold they must be through the thickness of his gloves.]
Compose yourself. Else I cannot treat you thusly.