[ It's both: Silco drinks the water in desperate, thirsty gulps, presses the cool glass miserably to his eye socket, legs tucked under him on the bed — and then the moment he sees Strange is still here, throws the glass at him again. He doesn't really expect it to impact — he didn't really the first time. ]
You have no right — to be here.
[ Grasping around for something else to throw, deciding on his pillow. ]
no subject
You have no right — to be here.
[ Grasping around for something else to throw, deciding on his pillow. ]
Leave me alone.