i fell in love with a war
Casimir's eyes track the way Thorn's fingers drift up to his collarbone to rub at a lump he recognizes as a scar. Thorn's body, as display as it was at the House of Midnight, did not have many mysteries left in the spaces above the waist, at least not for one who sees him so often as Casimir. With a knack for spotting old scars and injuries from his fighting days, he had clocked the raised scar before and squarely sorted it with the 'none of his business' category in his head, where most other things about Thorn resides. This time, though, as Casimir feels the warmth of the restaurant against his own throat, he recognizes the fluttering of Thorn's fingers as a response. His hand leaps to his throat, quickly fastening the button again trapping the awful thing under its typical prison of dark fabric. His gaze hardens, walls once again rising, as it meet's Thorn, defiant and challenging and too defensive, ready to field off whatever invasive question arises to the man's gifted tongue or snarky comments. Almost pointedly, his eyes stay fixed on Thorn's seafoam ones, and does not dip down to gaze at his collarbone's scar.
He's saved from a potential confrontation by the waiter, though instantly plunged into another challenge. The menu in front of him swims with words he didn't read, and Thorn, the jackass, is looking at him with an easygoing smile waiting for him to say something to the waiter and with a start he knows he's been outplayed. Point, Thorn, in this little game of theirs. Casimir is determined to dredge back a point for stubbornness and points his finger to something random on the menu, his glower settling on the slightly terrified waiter. With his finger pointed at the menu, his gaze knife-cold and jaw set, he dares the waiter to ask a follow-up question.
The waiter doesn't, and hurries off to his next table and away from the crazies in the corner booth.
Casimir's eyes swing back to Thorn, moving his forearms to rest on the table. He leans in a little as if to say something in confidence, dangling the possibility in front of Thorn with a sharp intake of breath like he's going to say something. Holding the moment for as long as he can, his sharp eyes bear into Thorn's, dancing with amusement. Then, just when he's dredged out the moment for as long as he can and it looks like the words will finally spill from his mouth, he--
Remains silent. An eyebrow quirks just slightly, and Casimir claims victory for that round.
He's saved from a potential confrontation by the waiter, though instantly plunged into another challenge. The menu in front of him swims with words he didn't read, and Thorn, the jackass, is looking at him with an easygoing smile waiting for him to say something to the waiter and with a start he knows he's been outplayed. Point, Thorn, in this little game of theirs. Casimir is determined to dredge back a point for stubbornness and points his finger to something random on the menu, his glower settling on the slightly terrified waiter. With his finger pointed at the menu, his gaze knife-cold and jaw set, he dares the waiter to ask a follow-up question.
The waiter doesn't, and hurries off to his next table and away from the crazies in the corner booth.
Casimir's eyes swing back to Thorn, moving his forearms to rest on the table. He leans in a little as if to say something in confidence, dangling the possibility in front of Thorn with a sharp intake of breath like he's going to say something. Holding the moment for as long as he can, his sharp eyes bear into Thorn's, dancing with amusement. Then, just when he's dredged out the moment for as long as he can and it looks like the words will finally spill from his mouth, he--
Remains silent. An eyebrow quirks just slightly, and Casimir claims victory for that round.
Casimir
and nobody told me it ended
