I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
He stops fiddling with the cap when he sees the hurt tug along her, exhaling through his nose to settle some of the slosh of his word vomit. He dips his fingers into the salve and closes the remaining distance between them, gently applying it to her wounds with a steady, liberal care that focuses him away from his own ruin. "What?" he repeats, catching the side of her widened gaze with matching confusion. Had he missed something, trying not to make it sting more than necessary just now?
"Oh," he realizes with a twist of his lips, catching where he went wrong. He swipes for more ointment, kneeling down to better align with the carvings against her ribs. "No, I meant, us as in me and Jack." He holds the skin steady around the wounds with one hand, some of his fingers still clutching the tub of medicine, while his other paints something as close to healing as he can manage for her, gaze drifting from his work to her worried stare when he can spare it. His frown only deepens though, despite the newfound clarity. "You did come up though," he admits with no theatrical display of displeasure.
"She wanted to know why I picked a fight with Jack, and when I said because he hurt a friend, she asked who. Your name really cut into her for some reason," He stills for a moment, assessing his application on her skin, and remembering the night at her bar, when an attempt at a dance had been enough of a fracture that it seems silly now he tried to build anything on top of it at all. "She thinks I picked you first, because I tried to dance with you at your party. Wouldn't listen to me explain, then fucking Jack let slip that we—" A pause, because what had they done, exactly?
More than sex. More than a night over. More than just getting to have her for a night, in all the ways he'd like to always have her, but it doesn't matter anyway. It's behind them, and like she said, it changes nothing. Just a memory, they both knew that then, and now. So she can rest assured, he didn't destroy what they decided.
He rises next to her, moving onto the deeper marks on her back, clearing his throat. "Well, he knew. I'm betting that lackey he had stay on the boat with you saw and told him everything." Jack knowing hadn't really been the problem, it's the way he just dropped it in Caly's lap like an explosive device, uncaring that it did that much more damage to his daughter. If he'd been able to properly explain...
"Anyway, Caly promised we'd talk later, after they kicked me out of the party, but I can't see it going well and I feel like she just said that to get me to leave." Probably for the better, he can recognize now, given that most everyone in her family had begun to bare some assortment of fangs at him.
"Oh," he realizes with a twist of his lips, catching where he went wrong. He swipes for more ointment, kneeling down to better align with the carvings against her ribs. "No, I meant, us as in me and Jack." He holds the skin steady around the wounds with one hand, some of his fingers still clutching the tub of medicine, while his other paints something as close to healing as he can manage for her, gaze drifting from his work to her worried stare when he can spare it. His frown only deepens though, despite the newfound clarity. "You did come up though," he admits with no theatrical display of displeasure.
"She wanted to know why I picked a fight with Jack, and when I said because he hurt a friend, she asked who. Your name really cut into her for some reason," He stills for a moment, assessing his application on her skin, and remembering the night at her bar, when an attempt at a dance had been enough of a fracture that it seems silly now he tried to build anything on top of it at all. "She thinks I picked you first, because I tried to dance with you at your party. Wouldn't listen to me explain, then fucking Jack let slip that we—" A pause, because what had they done, exactly?
More than sex. More than a night over. More than just getting to have her for a night, in all the ways he'd like to always have her, but it doesn't matter anyway. It's behind them, and like she said, it changes nothing. Just a memory, they both knew that then, and now. So she can rest assured, he didn't destroy what they decided.
He rises next to her, moving onto the deeper marks on her back, clearing his throat. "Well, he knew. I'm betting that lackey he had stay on the boat with you saw and told him everything." Jack knowing hadn't really been the problem, it's the way he just dropped it in Caly's lap like an explosive device, uncaring that it did that much more damage to his daughter. If he'd been able to properly explain...
"Anyway, Caly promised we'd talk later, after they kicked me out of the party, but I can't see it going well and I feel like she just said that to get me to leave." Probably for the better, he can recognize now, given that most everyone in her family had begun to bare some assortment of fangs at him.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
