* he's thinner than you ever remember him being-- the outlines of his ribs easily visible even in the dim-- but not emaciated, not yet. Where the lines of light from the shuttered windows fall on his bare upper body you can see his skin flushed from constant exertion of the muscles beneath; the minute trembling that seizes him seems to subside now and again, more due to exhaustion than anything else. *

* he doesn't respond. But his fingers, held in stiff claws, close into fists, and his breathing grows shorter and quicker. *