"I know." She has noticed this about him — he looks to people he's thinking of and watches them, brings them into conversation, skirting around questions nobody wants to answer. He'll knead it slowly out of them once they relax a little instead and it's hard to do a thing like that, Gela should know. It makes you worry-prone. Once you know people enough you can notice when something's off. Intimacy is nice, has a price tag to match.
His brow is furrowed. She can see a line she'd put her thumb on if he didn't choose that moment to heap their hands together — his feel good, strong. Kind. Like he wouldn't press on a bruise unless he had to.
And yet he's missing half an ear; anchors himself the ground in armor; once left plates of food just outside her room.
"Tell me more?"
She could use the point of connection to pull him closer. She wants to. She could put her chin on his shoulder and skirt her knee up his hip and over it but that would cease, quickly, to be listening. And she wants to look at his eyes while he's talking anyway.
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His brow is furrowed. She can see a line she'd put her thumb on if he didn't choose that moment to heap their hands together — his feel good, strong. Kind. Like he wouldn't press on a bruise unless he had to.
And yet he's missing half an ear; anchors himself the ground in armor; once left plates of food just outside her room.
"Tell me more?"
She could use the point of connection to pull him closer. She wants to. She could put her chin on his shoulder and skirt her knee up his hip and over it but that would cease, quickly, to be listening. And she wants to look at his eyes while he's talking anyway.