My heart's a stereo, it beats for you so listen close
There literally could not be a better task force than the one currently assembled on the deck of the Sugar Tide, of that he is certain. From the decisive settling of Ser Spice the Cold, each scale befit with cunning like none the realm has ever seen, to the pert attention of Lieutenant Doubletake, supremely hot and so infamously formidable that she has several flee on sight orders. This is Team Alpha Ultra.
Lt. Doubletake’s roar of understanding washes over him as cleanly as any Torchline wave has ever been felt. It gives him immediate goosebumps, and his composure cracks into a flicker of a smile for an instant before he clears his throat and schools it back into the rigid neutrality of one deeply in charge of serious fun. Because this would be fun, and that anticipation vibrates through his very marrow. Being able to still come home, in whatever shape of the word, of the place, that this is—it’s meaningful. He means to do right by the city ruins that’d once watched over him, and he can think of no better way than helping learn them anew.
”At ease,” he nods, the motion stiff as his ruler cuts back and taps thoughtfully against his palm. ”Now, we need code names,” and he does not elaborate, because the requirement is obvious. ”Spice, our eyes in the sky to help guide us towards these locales more easily, will be Weather.” It’s as much an assignment as a proposal, one brow sketching up as he glances between Spyro and Laura Croft. The weather is on the move, looks like weather is changing course, heads up weather has landed—all plausible ways to speak about the best girl without giving her away.
As for Flora? His cheeks ripple with an uncontainable smile this time. ”You’ll be Hot Honey, naturally.” And gods, does she ever fit that description on a day like today. The Longheat sun is putting in extra effort for the effect of the name. It’s not only colored her all season with a rich and even honey gold tan, but it’s brought a flush to the surface of her skin, a heated look that amplifies how irresistible she is. That is absolutely helped along by the way she wears marraige. Always aware of the shimmering band on her wrist, and his, Kaisel clocks the rareer glint of the engagement ring on her finger with a surge of butterflies in his gut. It’s rather fitting that he gets to love her out loud and in full here, of all places.
Although admittedly, her actual attire is also doing work. GI Jane has nothing on Flora. His gaze lingers far too long over the curves the tight fabric clings to, the trail of it wandering even as he tries to uphold some impression of command. Appreciation runs his tongue slow across his lips, attention flicking back in full to her eyes as he divvies up their work. ”Would you prefer navigator or paparazzi?”
Lt. Doubletake’s roar of understanding washes over him as cleanly as any Torchline wave has ever been felt. It gives him immediate goosebumps, and his composure cracks into a flicker of a smile for an instant before he clears his throat and schools it back into the rigid neutrality of one deeply in charge of serious fun. Because this would be fun, and that anticipation vibrates through his very marrow. Being able to still come home, in whatever shape of the word, of the place, that this is—it’s meaningful. He means to do right by the city ruins that’d once watched over him, and he can think of no better way than helping learn them anew.
”At ease,” he nods, the motion stiff as his ruler cuts back and taps thoughtfully against his palm. ”Now, we need code names,” and he does not elaborate, because the requirement is obvious. ”Spice, our eyes in the sky to help guide us towards these locales more easily, will be Weather.” It’s as much an assignment as a proposal, one brow sketching up as he glances between Spyro and Laura Croft. The weather is on the move, looks like weather is changing course, heads up weather has landed—all plausible ways to speak about the best girl without giving her away.
As for Flora? His cheeks ripple with an uncontainable smile this time. ”You’ll be Hot Honey, naturally.” And gods, does she ever fit that description on a day like today. The Longheat sun is putting in extra effort for the effect of the name. It’s not only colored her all season with a rich and even honey gold tan, but it’s brought a flush to the surface of her skin, a heated look that amplifies how irresistible she is. That is absolutely helped along by the way she wears marraige. Always aware of the shimmering band on her wrist, and his, Kaisel clocks the rareer glint of the engagement ring on her finger with a surge of butterflies in his gut. It’s rather fitting that he gets to love her out loud and in full here, of all places.
Although admittedly, her actual attire is also doing work. GI Jane has nothing on Flora. His gaze lingers far too long over the curves the tight fabric clings to, the trail of it wandering even as he tries to uphold some impression of command. Appreciation runs his tongue slow across his lips, attention flicking back in full to her eyes as he divvies up their work. ”Would you prefer navigator or paparazzi?”
Kaisel
Make me your radio and turn me up when you feel low
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
