it's the dead of night. that's the only good time for questions like these. " darling, would you kill me if i asked you to ... ?"
He doesn’t process the question at first, but when he does, he swear he can feel his blood run cold, nonexistant lungs struggling to breathe. He turns his head to face him, eyes a stripped-bare blue.
“...What? Jay, what’re you-- what the hell are you-- how can you ask me that?”