Their head dips more firmly this time.

I want It isn't

They scratch the words out in frustration and run the soft end of the quill over I am worried and unsure how to respond to it again. A few bristles catch and leave tiny lines of inky smears running across the thicker glyphs.

I will. I want to. when I think about it. When I don't my emotions trend toward defensive.
They We
I believe we should stop discussing this for now.