[He turns, pressing his face against Magneto's shirt, on hand grabbing the fabric of it, holding onto him and hiding in him like a small child, his breath coming in tight, shallow gulps.]
What, there's, there's any chance of that left anyway?
[He's not quite hysterical. But there's an edge of it under there.]
no subject
What, there's, there's any chance of that left anyway?
[He's not quite hysterical. But there's an edge of it under there.]