[He doesn't fight it off. Which speaks to where he is, really, because usually--any other day--Sirius might fight this off, or else twist away, make some joke--and he feels that urge, a little, like a crawling feeling under his skin, something that takes him back to being a first year, all prickly and angry and unused to this.
But he still doesn't shrug away. Nor does he shift into it, or lean his weight against Edgeworth--but he doesn't lean away, either, just sits, stiffly, uselessly, his hands at his sides, staring furiously over Edgeworth's shoulder.]
no subject
But he still doesn't shrug away. Nor does he shift into it, or lean his weight against Edgeworth--but he doesn't lean away, either, just sits, stiffly, uselessly, his hands at his sides, staring furiously over Edgeworth's shoulder.]