Honey wherever you go, I know
He bites back the urge to quip that testing the theory of the true problem being visible versus leaving the safe threshold of her ship at all isn't one they should tempt fate with. It's not the time to delve into imaginary scenarios though, much as he'd rather they whittle the hours away with that over...this. Not everything needs sprinkles.
The sound of it comes before the words do—that small, audible draw of breath. Nothing like the ones he'd just chased after in the shower. This is the sort of thing you usually only hear right before something heavy gets put into the world. A long note from a singer, an upset tirade, or the person he'd just wrecked everything for requesting to slow down. It's not I'm unsure exactly, but it's not I'm all in too, either.
Only the way she clings against him keeps the cold seep of dread at bay. There's something to that touch, more apology than purpose honestly, but he'll take it either way. Regardless, he knows he can't put his choices on her, whatever the outcome. She never asked him to do any of this...or anything, really, other than to help her move once. Technically, they left on her specifically asking him not to, when they'd been among the flowers. Still, he can't quite hold back the exhale that parts from him, trading air for this understanding. They'd already gotten further than he ever expected when this day began and he went to meet her in the market. That he suddenly clung on tight at the thought of losing her forever and imagining that her choice meant they'd both barrel straight into the surf of it, well that hadn't really been fair.
Gods, it hadn't even been a day and he'd gone from nervous to thrilled, dancing and loving to falling and trying his damndest not to break entirely while she could see, all to be scooped back into those hands—the same hands holding him now—with assurances and laughter and moans. Maybe slow is exactly what's needed on second thought.
Seems the only thing they hadn't brushed over yet was anger. He doesn't intend to, although the relative of it can't help but prickle up at the mention of Jack's name. He's made an effort to use that word less and less after she pointed it out to him that one night, and yet here they are, Jack still making his way into every conversation they seem to have. Kaisel's starting to feel like he might be dating Jack too.
At the feel of her stiffening, his gaze drifts back from the blank canvas of the ceiling where his thoughts started to stretch out. He turns enough to look at her, fingers squeezing hers where their hands remain locked. "Do you want me there?" he asks carefully, only trying to offer support. He doesn't trust Jack, and men like him don't seem the sort to react well to being rejected, so every number of possible outcomes starts to unspool in Kaisel's mind at the reunion. Flora still changing her mind about the captain, once faced with him, is on that list, but it isn't why he offers. He cannot hold her hostage in his affections, she has to choose them today and again every day after. He's more worried she might end up wearing bruises that aren't so easily covered. "I could just be nearby," he offers, figuring that walking up arm in arm wouldn't go over well. He could make some use of himself while he waited though, although then what? If she needed him, what could he do if he wasn't there? Shit, what could he do even if he was? Take the bullet, at least once.
His eyes flutter shut for a moment as her touch sweeps gentle against him, hair shifting to her appointed location. "Mm," he murmurs, gaze peeking back to her. "You were also crying over me," he points out, not in any unkind manner, just straight forward. "Maybe you need a day to just not cry Flora." He'd prefer a lifetime of that, but he doubts that's realistic no matter who she's with. Ultimately, what he's trying to say is she might just need more than a tumultuous day and the looming decision and conversation ahead to sit and think and recover. He certainly doesn't want to be the one she choose just because. "Or maybe take Soh," he suggests after another moment of thought, since maybe him being there with her for this is one place he shouldn't be by her side for.
He shifts a bit so he's more on his side, easier to see her. He keeps his grip in her hand, and the other drifts a bit further off her side, but remains, thumb brushing against her ribs. Quietly he lifts the back of her hand and kisses it, planting warmth and patience into the movement. "What do you need, Flora?" he says softly, watchful of her eyes. "Be honest about it," he follows up with the faintest smile, because it's not actually funny at all, but he's worried she'll do what she always does and strip herself bare for the sake of others. Something to spare Jack's feelings, and his. "What do you picture as, slow?"
The sound of it comes before the words do—that small, audible draw of breath. Nothing like the ones he'd just chased after in the shower. This is the sort of thing you usually only hear right before something heavy gets put into the world. A long note from a singer, an upset tirade, or the person he'd just wrecked everything for requesting to slow down. It's not I'm unsure exactly, but it's not I'm all in too, either.
Only the way she clings against him keeps the cold seep of dread at bay. There's something to that touch, more apology than purpose honestly, but he'll take it either way. Regardless, he knows he can't put his choices on her, whatever the outcome. She never asked him to do any of this...or anything, really, other than to help her move once. Technically, they left on her specifically asking him not to, when they'd been among the flowers. Still, he can't quite hold back the exhale that parts from him, trading air for this understanding. They'd already gotten further than he ever expected when this day began and he went to meet her in the market. That he suddenly clung on tight at the thought of losing her forever and imagining that her choice meant they'd both barrel straight into the surf of it, well that hadn't really been fair.
Gods, it hadn't even been a day and he'd gone from nervous to thrilled, dancing and loving to falling and trying his damndest not to break entirely while she could see, all to be scooped back into those hands—the same hands holding him now—with assurances and laughter and moans. Maybe slow is exactly what's needed on second thought.
Seems the only thing they hadn't brushed over yet was anger. He doesn't intend to, although the relative of it can't help but prickle up at the mention of Jack's name. He's made an effort to use that word less and less after she pointed it out to him that one night, and yet here they are, Jack still making his way into every conversation they seem to have. Kaisel's starting to feel like he might be dating Jack too.
At the feel of her stiffening, his gaze drifts back from the blank canvas of the ceiling where his thoughts started to stretch out. He turns enough to look at her, fingers squeezing hers where their hands remain locked. "Do you want me there?" he asks carefully, only trying to offer support. He doesn't trust Jack, and men like him don't seem the sort to react well to being rejected, so every number of possible outcomes starts to unspool in Kaisel's mind at the reunion. Flora still changing her mind about the captain, once faced with him, is on that list, but it isn't why he offers. He cannot hold her hostage in his affections, she has to choose them today and again every day after. He's more worried she might end up wearing bruises that aren't so easily covered. "I could just be nearby," he offers, figuring that walking up arm in arm wouldn't go over well. He could make some use of himself while he waited though, although then what? If she needed him, what could he do if he wasn't there? Shit, what could he do even if he was? Take the bullet, at least once.
His eyes flutter shut for a moment as her touch sweeps gentle against him, hair shifting to her appointed location. "Mm," he murmurs, gaze peeking back to her. "You were also crying over me," he points out, not in any unkind manner, just straight forward. "Maybe you need a day to just not cry Flora." He'd prefer a lifetime of that, but he doubts that's realistic no matter who she's with. Ultimately, what he's trying to say is she might just need more than a tumultuous day and the looming decision and conversation ahead to sit and think and recover. He certainly doesn't want to be the one she choose just because. "Or maybe take Soh," he suggests after another moment of thought, since maybe him being there with her for this is one place he shouldn't be by her side for.
He shifts a bit so he's more on his side, easier to see her. He keeps his grip in her hand, and the other drifts a bit further off her side, but remains, thumb brushing against her ribs. Quietly he lifts the back of her hand and kisses it, planting warmth and patience into the movement. "What do you need, Flora?" he says softly, watchful of her eyes. "Be honest about it," he follows up with the faintest smile, because it's not actually funny at all, but he's worried she'll do what she always does and strip herself bare for the sake of others. Something to spare Jack's feelings, and his. "What do you picture as, slow?"
Kaisel
I'd give up half of forever, just to be with you
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
