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RE: hotline - Vesper - 03-30-2025
Vesper watches the fire curl from her lips like it’s an extension of her mood—hot, defiant, breathtaking. His smirk deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t try to match it with bravado or banter. Just watches her, his expression calm but impossibly focused, like he’s cataloging the exact shape of her laughter, the way her smile flickers, how her eyes shift when her walls go up again.
Because he sees it—the subtle edge that slides into place, the way her voice regains its armour—but he doesn't call her on it.
Instead, he leans forward, elbow resting on one knee, eyes catching hers in the dying light. [say]"You think I don’t already know that?"[/say] he says, soft and dry, but steady. [say]"First time I saw you in the desert I couldn't be sure that the creature we killed wasn't gonna be the only thing to wind up dead or on fire."[/say]
Then he rises, slow and fluid, brushing sand from his hands. [say]"I’m not afraid of a little chaos, Thalassa."[/say] A flash of a grin. [say]"In fact, I tend to prefer it."[/say]
He offers a hand, not as a lifeline, but as something casual, something solid. A gesture not just of help, but of choice. [say]"Come on. My sisters are gonna have a million questions about where I been as it is, and I'm sure your crew is already gonna be guessin' as to where you wandered off to."[/say]
His shadows coil faintly at his heels, the night already folding around them. And whatever just passed between them—lust, challenge, something darker, something softer—it hums between their linked gazes like tension strung tight and unresolved. But for now, it’s enough to leave it lingering.
~FIN