[okay that is really freaking him out right now. He bats at his ear and then covers them up so at least there's a barrier between them and whatever is trying to whisper at him. The word makes him feel queasy somehow and he's not sure why. It's like a flash of panic and desperation and something... not right, charges through his gut.]
My-- My old work? I barely got any hits on it. [just a couple of thousand really] Where are you?
no subject
My-- My old work? I barely got any hits on it. [just a couple of thousand really] Where are you?
[he tries not to sound as strained as he feels]