How did it feel for him?
Lonely Bird placed his hands on the table, palms up, pale, immaculate. He couldn't even remember if he actually ever got dirty. A lingering look to Spike, caught the strange look in his eyes, unfamiliar but calculating. It made him want to recoil a little, like something not right was in the other mans head. A wince and he brought his own hand to his head, pressing his knuckles to his temple before he took another swig of his whiskey.
"It feels like I can breath after drowning for ten years," He stated simply, shaking his head, giving Spike's neck a hungry look. Not because it was Spike, or the fact it was his neck, but because Lonely Bird had really... He missed being able to breath. He couldn't remember what it was like to not be muted. If touching Spike was a hint of that... Lonely Bird would probably do just about anything for his horn back.
A nod to Spike's head, "Maybe whatever's in me is... Breathing... Through you when we touch," He touched the bridge of his nose, to point to the seal. Another drink, "She gave me this, she said, because she was my friend and that I deserved to live longer with her, then I woke up like this." A frown and a far away look in his eyes, shaking his head to try and remember, "It was green, there was a lake. A beautiful castle." Lonely Bird laughed bitterly, "But that could be anywhere in Serendipity," He stated, "Her name was Sylvia and she was beautiful, kind. Gentle." A frown, why did he know that?
"I never..." A shake of his head, "I don't know if I like it," Lonely Bird stated, rubbing his finger tips together, the tingling sensation of being so close to Spike along with the alcohol made for an interesting sensation, "I miss breathing, but ... I can't miss it if I don't get to experience it anymore," A confused frown and Lonely Bird shook his head, "But I can experience it through you." And he held his hand, palm up on the table.