Kaisel
In his experience, drinking cocktails is precisely for getting drunk. He bites that back though, not wanting to also get into an argument about drinks along with dicks. Especially since they can't seem to agree on what a 'shitty comment' means either, so perhaps they've been working out of different dictionaries this whole time, nudity just the first of many words they'll argue the color of.
The fight drains out of him the way heat does from cooling metal—slow, reluctant, leaving the shape of it behind. He doesn't rise to the questions that linger or the residual stings, but his arm still unfurls, leaving her exit clear. He expects her to take it, because hadn't that been why she'd warned him away from this, wanting to dodge this so she could enjoy the night? He hadn't stopped then, but he's stopping now, and maybe she could salvage something still.
For a moment, it seems she means to. His arm hangs at his side as she steps away, turns a bit, and clearly considers. It twists awful inside him that she would.
When she doesn’t—when she just stands there, folding in on herself instead of walking away—relief hits sharp and painful, air dragging across a fresh burn. She looks so damn small, shoulders curled, lashes trembling, and whatever armor he’d been building cracks in an instant. "Ro," he says softly, the sound rolling off the back of his throat. "I—" he says with a step forward, reclaiming the distance she just made, a hand reaching out. The rest doesn't matter, not if she's not okay.
She's here, though, at least, however small in body and word now. He inhales loudly, holds it for a moment, cheeks puffing faintly, then lets it out through his nose. "It feels too intimate, being naked, especially like that. It's close quarters, and not normal—for me." The words feel uneven and maybe no different from what he's already said, just without the heat to them now. "I'm sorry, but, I don't know how to just deal with that. It feels like you're asking me to share something that's supposed to be ours, and maybe it's selfish, but I don't want to share that." He swallows hard, holding her with his gaze if nothing else. Half-certain she'll laugh again that he can't just get over it, his features brace with a frown. "And, it feels like their comfort is suddenly all that matters to you now. Because maybe you can't hear yourself, but you've never been like this either."
The fight drains out of him the way heat does from cooling metal—slow, reluctant, leaving the shape of it behind. He doesn't rise to the questions that linger or the residual stings, but his arm still unfurls, leaving her exit clear. He expects her to take it, because hadn't that been why she'd warned him away from this, wanting to dodge this so she could enjoy the night? He hadn't stopped then, but he's stopping now, and maybe she could salvage something still.
For a moment, it seems she means to. His arm hangs at his side as she steps away, turns a bit, and clearly considers. It twists awful inside him that she would.
When she doesn’t—when she just stands there, folding in on herself instead of walking away—relief hits sharp and painful, air dragging across a fresh burn. She looks so damn small, shoulders curled, lashes trembling, and whatever armor he’d been building cracks in an instant. "Ro," he says softly, the sound rolling off the back of his throat. "I—" he says with a step forward, reclaiming the distance she just made, a hand reaching out. The rest doesn't matter, not if she's not okay.
She's here, though, at least, however small in body and word now. He inhales loudly, holds it for a moment, cheeks puffing faintly, then lets it out through his nose. "It feels too intimate, being naked, especially like that. It's close quarters, and not normal—for me." The words feel uneven and maybe no different from what he's already said, just without the heat to them now. "I'm sorry, but, I don't know how to just deal with that. It feels like you're asking me to share something that's supposed to be ours, and maybe it's selfish, but I don't want to share that." He swallows hard, holding her with his gaze if nothing else. Half-certain she'll laugh again that he can't just get over it, his features brace with a frown. "And, it feels like their comfort is suddenly all that matters to you now. Because maybe you can't hear yourself, but you've never been like this either."
Wanted me to fail out of spite, I didn't
All bark but they don't bite, they timid
All bark but they don't bite, they timid
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
