Oh, darling, if I ever cross your mind
The second she says no need and explains that she’ll be back to visit and see it for herself, Thorn nods – his understanding unnamed and quiet where he doesn’t internalize it or linger on it so that she doesn’t feel the need to try and elaborate more. He likes to think he’s a good friend for that, to be able to know when to push and when not to, and in a job like he’s got, he’s pretty much perfected it these days. “Sounds good.” He says instead, shooting her a smile that hopefully conveys he doesn’t need her to elaborate more if she doesn’t want to.
She’s explaining then just how big those creatures get and Thorn immediately frowns with distaste. “Ew.” His nose wrinkles as he thinks about the bug, but it breaks as soon as she mentions definitely not being a farmer. That’s something he can agree with, though, farming weird big flower hybrids sounded terrible. And for as much as Thorn loves flowers – theyre inked all of his body, after all – he had no green thumb. It was pretty much done entirely on aesthetic.
He squirms under her fussing, though, before he’s got the devious idea to lick her wrist if only to get her to stop probing into him and the bartender and their love hate relationship while she muses over the dangerous combo of being hot and annoying, it’s with a low bark of a laugh that her reaction spurs from him. And it distracts him just long enough to not get out of the way entirely when she moves and half pins him to wet-willy him which only causes more squirming and a touch of air magic that breezes along their hair like it might prevent her from digging her finger into his ear as he squirms. “EW COLT.” He crows back at her, legs wiggling to try and shove her off before he’s managed to careen himself off his small bed onto the floor with a loud THUNK.
And in the brief second of time from landing on the hard floor, laughter bubbles out from him like an overflowing cauldron.
She’s explaining then just how big those creatures get and Thorn immediately frowns with distaste. “Ew.” His nose wrinkles as he thinks about the bug, but it breaks as soon as she mentions definitely not being a farmer. That’s something he can agree with, though, farming weird big flower hybrids sounded terrible. And for as much as Thorn loves flowers – theyre inked all of his body, after all – he had no green thumb. It was pretty much done entirely on aesthetic.
He squirms under her fussing, though, before he’s got the devious idea to lick her wrist if only to get her to stop probing into him and the bartender and their love hate relationship while she muses over the dangerous combo of being hot and annoying, it’s with a low bark of a laugh that her reaction spurs from him. And it distracts him just long enough to not get out of the way entirely when she moves and half pins him to wet-willy him which only causes more squirming and a touch of air magic that breezes along their hair like it might prevent her from digging her finger into his ear as he squirms. “EW COLT.” He crows back at her, legs wiggling to try and shove her off before he’s managed to careen himself off his small bed onto the floor with a loud THUNK.
And in the brief second of time from landing on the hard floor, laughter bubbles out from him like an overflowing cauldron.
Hawthorn
Won't you let me know?
