// Ring around the rosie - Pocket full of posie //
He's not sure he's ever truly seen her like this—careful and gentle in a way that isn't tinged with the sadness of something breaking or the wariness of something uncertain. This is Flora unwrapping a petal that normally stays drawn up tight and close, one of the few she doesn't put on display when she's bright and sure of herself. This one's secret. Although she's held his attention in its entirety for a while now, even more of the world fades away as he leans in, as much as he can anyway, to hold this new little part of her alongside the rest.
It's delicate, he can tell, this private part of her. Not because it isn't strong enough, or pretty enough, but because it's at risk of being too bruised or plucked away completely if too many hands (or ears) brush up against it. His grip remains sure against her arms as she shifts, her fingers tracing energy that he absorbs with the stillness of attention. He hadn't known her past connection with the bar, the weight of what it all truly meant to her, and hearing it only seems to further solidify his resolve that she should have it back. Sometimes you never fully outgrow the little teddy bear you received as a child, and even if you don't need it anymore to get you through the nights, seeing it on your bed provides a certain sort of comfort that any person needs, regardless of age—sometimes you need it even more when you're older, because dark nights are the least of your worries then.
He hesitates to say or do anything though, because that's not what she's kept tucked in on herself, even if her smile seems painted on out of habit and the shrug that spills her hair feels like an attempt at getting comfortable with the absence of something she still wants. He's grateful he does, because when the true reason comes out with a blush and a thin breath, he hates the acknowledgement that tightens his chest at it. Although, the smallest shape of a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth at hearing the initials used instead of the name.
He sighs long and low, his hands running back down her arms to thread with her fingers instead. "You aren't wrong," he admits after a long stretch of quiet, struggling to come to terms with the position she's painted them in. She thinks ahead much better than he does, sees the ramifications of choices, when he's prone to discovering them after having already acted. Part of him still wants to shout fuck it and do it anyway, because haven't they already picked a fight in a sense, just by doing this? Difference is this is worth it, maybe a bar isn't. "Although I think we're already on the shit list of everyone you listed off...well, probably me more than you." Which should instill a sense of caution in him, but he just grimaces with a heaving exhale, seemingly more annoyed by the constant threat of B.M.F. and all the ways he's tangled himself up in Kaisel's life. "Caly I'm sure will join it the moment I tell her, and Safrin might have forgiven me before...but likely not now." The others, he fells, are obvious. So to Kaisel, it kind of feels like he doesn't have much more he could lose from picking a fight, and if they want to call their mom, then he'll call for backup too.
"But...no..." he mutters low and defeated, glancing to the side as his head flops against his shoulder. "I don't want to outright do that to Caly, which is why I thought if we convinced them to give it up somehow, it'd work. You're right though, Safrin would know, and they'll never offer it up. I mean they were changing it before it was even theirs, I don't think it ever would have been anything but a fight." His voice thickens a bit as he continues, forcing him to pause to draw in a steadying breath. His gaze flicks back to her from the side of his view, an apology frowning in. "I just—I don't want to be the reason you lose things." He never meant for her to become smaller because of him, and now he's had a hand in the removal of her bar and the stability of the city's lawlessness, both of which are dragging on her. "I don't want you to end up with regrets, because of me." He says it whisper soft, hoping that's loud enough to hide the fear that he's going to end up being the thing she regrets, because look what's already started because of it. She's worried she'd wreck things for him? She's the one with so much more to lose.
It's delicate, he can tell, this private part of her. Not because it isn't strong enough, or pretty enough, but because it's at risk of being too bruised or plucked away completely if too many hands (or ears) brush up against it. His grip remains sure against her arms as she shifts, her fingers tracing energy that he absorbs with the stillness of attention. He hadn't known her past connection with the bar, the weight of what it all truly meant to her, and hearing it only seems to further solidify his resolve that she should have it back. Sometimes you never fully outgrow the little teddy bear you received as a child, and even if you don't need it anymore to get you through the nights, seeing it on your bed provides a certain sort of comfort that any person needs, regardless of age—sometimes you need it even more when you're older, because dark nights are the least of your worries then.
He hesitates to say or do anything though, because that's not what she's kept tucked in on herself, even if her smile seems painted on out of habit and the shrug that spills her hair feels like an attempt at getting comfortable with the absence of something she still wants. He's grateful he does, because when the true reason comes out with a blush and a thin breath, he hates the acknowledgement that tightens his chest at it. Although, the smallest shape of a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth at hearing the initials used instead of the name.
He sighs long and low, his hands running back down her arms to thread with her fingers instead. "You aren't wrong," he admits after a long stretch of quiet, struggling to come to terms with the position she's painted them in. She thinks ahead much better than he does, sees the ramifications of choices, when he's prone to discovering them after having already acted. Part of him still wants to shout fuck it and do it anyway, because haven't they already picked a fight in a sense, just by doing this? Difference is this is worth it, maybe a bar isn't. "Although I think we're already on the shit list of everyone you listed off...well, probably me more than you." Which should instill a sense of caution in him, but he just grimaces with a heaving exhale, seemingly more annoyed by the constant threat of B.M.F. and all the ways he's tangled himself up in Kaisel's life. "Caly I'm sure will join it the moment I tell her, and Safrin might have forgiven me before...but likely not now." The others, he fells, are obvious. So to Kaisel, it kind of feels like he doesn't have much more he could lose from picking a fight, and if they want to call their mom, then he'll call for backup too.
"But...no..." he mutters low and defeated, glancing to the side as his head flops against his shoulder. "I don't want to outright do that to Caly, which is why I thought if we convinced them to give it up somehow, it'd work. You're right though, Safrin would know, and they'll never offer it up. I mean they were changing it before it was even theirs, I don't think it ever would have been anything but a fight." His voice thickens a bit as he continues, forcing him to pause to draw in a steadying breath. His gaze flicks back to her from the side of his view, an apology frowning in. "I just—I don't want to be the reason you lose things." He never meant for her to become smaller because of him, and now he's had a hand in the removal of her bar and the stability of the city's lawlessness, both of which are dragging on her. "I don't want you to end up with regrets, because of me." He says it whisper soft, hoping that's loud enough to hide the fear that he's going to end up being the thing she regrets, because look what's already started because of it. She's worried she'd wreck things for him? She's the one with so much more to lose.
Kaisel
// I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
