Kaisel
To say he's aghast that she offers Rupert's name of all the words in the world to be part of their secret code is not a strong enough for sentiment for the way he reels back in body and soul. "Rupert!?" he demands in a whisper so wild and forced it cracks in his throat. A laugh, finally, rolls at his shoulder for a moment.
"I suppose he is a thief of good things, so it fits," he begrudgingly admits. "So, what, we say time to kill Rupert?" His 'brows lift, but he shakes his head shortly thereafter. "No. That's all the time." If he ever got his hands on that toad... "What about, Rupert said the same thing?" Something they might be able to fit in, even if others were involved. Who knows, they might develop a whole host of codes in time.
As it fades into the more serious matter though, and he feels her shift beneath him, his hands loosen further to give her the freedom to move. He's certain he could stand out here another hour at least doing nothing but holding her close, though the distance enough to find her eyes again is its own comfort. Or, should be—they're glassy with the mist of all that's been said too wrong tonight, and that pulls on him.
He leans against the brush of her palm, warm and gentle. One of his hand lifts to settle overtop it, eventually pulling each one of her fingertips to his lips for a brief kiss. "I shouldn't have said some of the things I did," he murmurs, his hand slipping from hers to brush a thumb along one of her tear tracks, as if smudging it away now could keep more from ever falling. "I'm sorry for that." His tendency to go down swinging when he feels backed into a corner shouldn't be something she ever has to deal with.
A fragile smile makes an appearance at her laugh, sitting more in earnest as her nose skims his. His wrinkles back in a light laugh at dick festival, and his head nods subtly, hair shifting as it bunches up with the friction of the movement. "That'd be a good idea," he agrees easily, lightening with each step towards rebuilding something stronger than before. "Where does that leave us tonight, though? We should be with your friends, and my comfort is not above your comfort." So it's a bit of an impasse, if he wants them clothed, and she wants them, or at least herself, not.
"I suppose he is a thief of good things, so it fits," he begrudgingly admits. "So, what, we say time to kill Rupert?" His 'brows lift, but he shakes his head shortly thereafter. "No. That's all the time." If he ever got his hands on that toad... "What about, Rupert said the same thing?" Something they might be able to fit in, even if others were involved. Who knows, they might develop a whole host of codes in time.
As it fades into the more serious matter though, and he feels her shift beneath him, his hands loosen further to give her the freedom to move. He's certain he could stand out here another hour at least doing nothing but holding her close, though the distance enough to find her eyes again is its own comfort. Or, should be—they're glassy with the mist of all that's been said too wrong tonight, and that pulls on him.
He leans against the brush of her palm, warm and gentle. One of his hand lifts to settle overtop it, eventually pulling each one of her fingertips to his lips for a brief kiss. "I shouldn't have said some of the things I did," he murmurs, his hand slipping from hers to brush a thumb along one of her tear tracks, as if smudging it away now could keep more from ever falling. "I'm sorry for that." His tendency to go down swinging when he feels backed into a corner shouldn't be something she ever has to deal with.
A fragile smile makes an appearance at her laugh, sitting more in earnest as her nose skims his. His wrinkles back in a light laugh at dick festival, and his head nods subtly, hair shifting as it bunches up with the friction of the movement. "That'd be a good idea," he agrees easily, lightening with each step towards rebuilding something stronger than before. "Where does that leave us tonight, though? We should be with your friends, and my comfort is not above your comfort." So it's a bit of an impasse, if he wants them clothed, and she wants them, or at least herself, not.
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
