Fox's Glade mix two parts jack with two bloodshot eyes

A familiar fear shoots through his veins like ice at the red-hot anger in Midar's gaze, but he hardly pays attention to it. Instead he's focused on the way the frost in his tone feels like a blow to the chest, hurt spreading over him like warm gushing blood. He curls in on himself, tucking his face out of sight and swallowing back the lump in his throat as he realizes he has no rebuttal. Midar is right. Maybe you should, He says quietly, struggling to keep the hurt out of his tone. He's not sure it works, but he's also not sure he cares. All he wants now is to be left alone; he certainly doesn't want to waste more of the man's time.