alexseanchai | six sentence sunday

from swallow my doubt, turn it inside out (beautiful oblivion):

Adrien—he must, he thought, be Adrien at the moment; he could feel a needle in his arm, and the spot on his thigh where another had stuck him, and, well. Medical needle versus magical armor? He wouldn't bet on the needle. He fisted his right hand, thumb in, and drew the thumb out: yeah, no claws, no ring. Possibly no Plagg, though as soon as he thought that, he knew it wasn't true: something in his chest was fluttering, on the wrong side to be his heart. The familiarity of it, given both little jinnīs' ability to fly through things and their need to hide Adrien's being Chat Noir from everyone, and knowing how even with no reason Plagg remembered to stay, he hadn't left Adrien long? Yeah, Adrien's lung was probably the perfect spot for a nap.