The laugh was nice, but the teasing answer brought a wrinkle to Tal's nose as he looked more closely at the clothing rather than the man wearing it, trying to decide for himself if it was old or not. The problem, of course, was that the flowing clothing was layered on top of the tight clothing, which was layered over that golden, tattooed skin.
And not just tattoos. Now that he was looking closely he could see the scars, and even though the courier knew it wasn't any of his business, he asked anyway. At worst, Thorn could tell him to shove it. When the other man stayed initially quiet, Tal took it in stride and grabbed for a different topic, always happy to brag about his beloved skyboat. She wasn't exactly a passenger vessel, but he'd taken enough people between ports on it that he'd made her at least comfortable for two people to share the cozy cabin her trim little deck boasted.
He didn't expect the conversation to swing back to the scars, but when it did he looked over at the other man, brows beetling together in concern with an openness that betrayed his complete inability to win a game of poker. At least this time he caught the conversational cue that it was a subject better left un-delved, though it wasn't something he had a chance to dwell on for long. A well-manicured hand slipped out to hold his and the courier froze like an icicle in a snowstorm, blood rushing to his ears as he began to protest: "Uh, w-wait--" And then the golden glow of healing washed over his finger, soothing away the minor ache of the needle jab.
Tal blinked and stopped trying to retrieve his hand, though the blush didn't fade. "Um. Thank you. For that. It, uh... yeah. I c'n see how that comes in handy..."
And not just tattoos. Now that he was looking closely he could see the scars, and even though the courier knew it wasn't any of his business, he asked anyway. At worst, Thorn could tell him to shove it. When the other man stayed initially quiet, Tal took it in stride and grabbed for a different topic, always happy to brag about his beloved skyboat. She wasn't exactly a passenger vessel, but he'd taken enough people between ports on it that he'd made her at least comfortable for two people to share the cozy cabin her trim little deck boasted.
He didn't expect the conversation to swing back to the scars, but when it did he looked over at the other man, brows beetling together in concern with an openness that betrayed his complete inability to win a game of poker. At least this time he caught the conversational cue that it was a subject better left un-delved, though it wasn't something he had a chance to dwell on for long. A well-manicured hand slipped out to hold his and the courier froze like an icicle in a snowstorm, blood rushing to his ears as he began to protest: "Uh, w-wait--" And then the golden glow of healing washed over his finger, soothing away the minor ache of the needle jab.
Tal blinked and stopped trying to retrieve his hand, though the blush didn't fade. "Um. Thank you. For that. It, uh... yeah. I c'n see how that comes in handy..."
