Thomas felt like he was covered in molasses. Everything seemed slow. The movement of his limbs, the clouds passing overhead, Derek's words. He blinked and time seemed to speed up again. The molasses was gone replaced by a warm fuzziness that fogged up his head.

"Wouldn't want that," Thomas said, pushing himself up and swiping his forearm across his face. He kept expecting his arm to come away covered in dirt or blood but it didn't. It hadn't for several weeks now. "Been way too close to doing both already. Wouldn't recommend it."

He'd probably take the burning over the starving, if he had to choose. Starving to death was like a creeping thing, something that wrapped its bony death claws around you one day and squeezed a week later. It took time. It hurt.

Stretching, Thomas looked over at Derek, taking in the pink on his ears and cheeks. His answer to that was a smile, small and brief, but genuine. Pleased. "Lead the way."