// the only heaven i'll be sent to —
Honestly, he would’ve also probably nearly shit his pants if someone revealed their lineage in such a fancy, flashy way. So it’s with his quiet chuckle at the idea of it - terrifying and wild - that the courtesan meets Colt’s gaze with a roll of his shoulders. “If it’s a seventy year old, then my job’s pretty easy huh?” He touts a little playfully, before he snorts and shakes his head. “Oldest one’ve my clients is a fifty-four year ol’ lady. She’s jus’… Real lonely. I help her ’n make her not feel so empty all the time.” Which is a nice way of putting it, he thinks, because she’s often in better spirits when she’s leaving, and Thorn? Well, he’s happy just knowing that he’d made her that way.
But that wasn’t a relationship, and Thorn’s shoulder’s shrug a little. “S’not a relationship, no. But like.. It’s not like you’re fifty years older than him. He’s.. What? Is it a gap of 8 years?” Giving Colt some credit, he doesn’t now her exact age, but she looks like she’s in the end of her twenties, early thirties? And for him, that’s only a five or six year gap. Wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme. Especially if everyone was old enough.
Giving her the margarita as she starts to question whether or not he had a childhood, that’s a whole other ordeal. He doesn’t know anyone that’s a child of the gods - not literally, anyway - and so with absolutely zero idea how that works, the courtesan is left chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers it.
Puffing out a sigh and nodding, feeling the way her insides are twisted at the idea through what he can only assume to be empathy, the courtesan’s arm is offered up easily and he leans a little into her space to press his cheek to her hand. “I usually take a break. Or.. I mean, it’s my job but also.. fuckin’ someone else helps bury it for a minute or two.” He mutters, glancing over at her with a raised brow. “Or I hope I never see ‘em again.” This is the part he isn’t good at, because he didn’t tend to get attached, and when he did? Well…
Bad things happened and he’d moved to King’s End. It’s the reason the scar sits under his collarbone, capable of being healed into nothing, but Thorn keeps it there as a reminder while the rest of him is scar free.
But that wasn’t a relationship, and Thorn’s shoulder’s shrug a little. “S’not a relationship, no. But like.. It’s not like you’re fifty years older than him. He’s.. What? Is it a gap of 8 years?” Giving Colt some credit, he doesn’t now her exact age, but she looks like she’s in the end of her twenties, early thirties? And for him, that’s only a five or six year gap. Wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme. Especially if everyone was old enough.
Giving her the margarita as she starts to question whether or not he had a childhood, that’s a whole other ordeal. He doesn’t know anyone that’s a child of the gods - not literally, anyway - and so with absolutely zero idea how that works, the courtesan is left chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers it.
Puffing out a sigh and nodding, feeling the way her insides are twisted at the idea through what he can only assume to be empathy, the courtesan’s arm is offered up easily and he leans a little into her space to press his cheek to her hand. “I usually take a break. Or.. I mean, it’s my job but also.. fuckin’ someone else helps bury it for a minute or two.” He mutters, glancing over at her with a raised brow. “Or I hope I never see ‘em again.” This is the part he isn’t good at, because he didn’t tend to get attached, and when he did? Well…
Bad things happened and he’d moved to King’s End. It’s the reason the scar sits under his collarbone, capable of being healed into nothing, but Thorn keeps it there as a reminder while the rest of him is scar free.
thorn
— is when i'm alone with you //
