[M slides his left hand across Apollo's back before stopping to rest at Apollo's waist. They fit in ways that M knows he shouldn't think about, but that instinct kept pulling him towards.]
I think I can handle that.
[Flipping the book open with his spare hand, he opens to the first poem.]
no subject
I think I can handle that.
[Flipping the book open with his spare hand, he opens to the first poem.]