// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //
Glancing down at her with an expression wrapped in disgust and dismay, he emphatically shakes his head. "I would never choose eating mud over spending time with you. Even miserable running time." If it came down to them sharing a meal of mud, he'd still pick the running though, because when else could he get away with feigning leg injuries just to get her to bend over for him?
He can't keep the eyeroll from racing away with his expression when she praises the spirit whistle of all things. "Please, have slightly higher standards than that Flo-Ro." If all she expects is a little spirit handiwork to make her day, he could have put far less effort into this, it'd seem. He's eagerly reaching for the actual gift now though, more certain than ever it'd land with meaning if she'd be happy enough just to dodge juicing.
Everything stills and quiets as the bag is placed in her hand. He holds a breath he doesn't mean to, leans in without conscious consideration, everything in him drawn to this moment of her reaction. The instant she gasps, he lights up like someone struck a match inside him and forgot to blow it out. This is the real gift, the thing he’s been waiting for since he first tucked the purse into his pack—her joy.
"Mateo helped me make that," he murmurs of the charm, keeping his voice just as low as hers, afraid anything louder might steal the moment away. "The flowers are from his shop." is eyes find hers, impossible not to right now with the way her whole face beams up like the sun’s being coaxed through her skin. It only stutters briefly, the question forming on her features before her tongue, but he waits it out with a readiness, about to reach out to pull the flap up for her just as she manages it.
His laugh rushes out with nearly the same force, anticipation tumbling into raw delight when her curls startle like finches from her shoulder. The grin that takes over his whole face is big and stupid and bright, the kind of smile that tries to live in every muscle from his cheeks down to his shoulders. "Told you I'd steal the wind for you," he reminds with a satisfied flop back against the bed, swallowing up the accusation like it's the exact, favorite drink he ordered.
He glances sidelong at her after a beat, a hand drifting out to curl behind her, fingers brushing against the fabric of the towel. Above, he can hear the spirits hard at work. "This way we can always sail anywhere we want to."
He can't keep the eyeroll from racing away with his expression when she praises the spirit whistle of all things. "Please, have slightly higher standards than that Flo-Ro." If all she expects is a little spirit handiwork to make her day, he could have put far less effort into this, it'd seem. He's eagerly reaching for the actual gift now though, more certain than ever it'd land with meaning if she'd be happy enough just to dodge juicing.
Everything stills and quiets as the bag is placed in her hand. He holds a breath he doesn't mean to, leans in without conscious consideration, everything in him drawn to this moment of her reaction. The instant she gasps, he lights up like someone struck a match inside him and forgot to blow it out. This is the real gift, the thing he’s been waiting for since he first tucked the purse into his pack—her joy.
"Mateo helped me make that," he murmurs of the charm, keeping his voice just as low as hers, afraid anything louder might steal the moment away. "The flowers are from his shop." is eyes find hers, impossible not to right now with the way her whole face beams up like the sun’s being coaxed through her skin. It only stutters briefly, the question forming on her features before her tongue, but he waits it out with a readiness, about to reach out to pull the flap up for her just as she manages it.
His laugh rushes out with nearly the same force, anticipation tumbling into raw delight when her curls startle like finches from her shoulder. The grin that takes over his whole face is big and stupid and bright, the kind of smile that tries to live in every muscle from his cheeks down to his shoulders. "Told you I'd steal the wind for you," he reminds with a satisfied flop back against the bed, swallowing up the accusation like it's the exact, favorite drink he ordered.
He glances sidelong at her after a beat, a hand drifting out to curl behind her, fingers brushing against the fabric of the towel. Above, he can hear the spirits hard at work. "This way we can always sail anywhere we want to."
Kaisel
// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
