i fell in love with a war
Casimir savors the way Thorn's face transforms in anticipation of his words. It's a subtle change, but the bartender has years of watching the man's face move, as well as the eye of a constant observer from his lookout at the bar. He almost feels bad for the trick, watching the way Thorn's eyes alight with something eager and delighted, thinking he's won. Almost. When he lets the silence fall between them like a rock, he's not sure what to expect, his smug satisfaction overcoming all other instincts.
But then Thorn is laughing, shoulders shaking from the effort and Casimir's mind short-circuits from the sound. It often fills the halls of the House of Midnight, recognizable and boisterous and joyful, but it's not usually a sound Casimir draws out of him. Or anyone. He gets grins and wry chuckles and something a full-throated giggle, but not genuine laughter pouring from throats. The sound fills his ears and the slightest corner of his house mouth quirks up in response, barely perceptible but there nonetheless. He didn't think there was anything he could say -- or not say -- that could gather that reaction from anyone, much less the good-humored courtesan. Maybe Thorn just had bad taste and low standard. Or, he took more enjoyment from Casimir than the bartender could imagine.
(What the fuck did edging mean?)
The memory of the word 'friends' drifts through his thoughts like a salve on a wound, and it alights something in his chest again. It doesn't burn the way it did before, but kindles something different this time. Something comforting, almost. Though he still doesn't know what keeps the man clinging onto the mere prospect of eking a word out of the taciturn bartender, or what gets him so excited about stealing one from him, other than the thrill of the challenge. It's flattering his silence is such an interesting facet to Thorn, a prize to be chased and a commodity, though the interest confuses him.
He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back in his seat, the leather creaking under him from the movement. Thorn's smile has turned decidedly mischievous and there's clearly some evil cogs moving in his evil brain for an evil plan, but Casimir is still riding high on his victory. Cocking his head to the side slightly, he keeps his face passive and blank, but his eyes sparkle with amusement. After years of dealing with Thorn's antics, he's got a few tricks up his sleeve.
But then Thorn is laughing, shoulders shaking from the effort and Casimir's mind short-circuits from the sound. It often fills the halls of the House of Midnight, recognizable and boisterous and joyful, but it's not usually a sound Casimir draws out of him. Or anyone. He gets grins and wry chuckles and something a full-throated giggle, but not genuine laughter pouring from throats. The sound fills his ears and the slightest corner of his house mouth quirks up in response, barely perceptible but there nonetheless. He didn't think there was anything he could say -- or not say -- that could gather that reaction from anyone, much less the good-humored courtesan. Maybe Thorn just had bad taste and low standard. Or, he took more enjoyment from Casimir than the bartender could imagine.
(What the fuck did edging mean?)
The memory of the word 'friends' drifts through his thoughts like a salve on a wound, and it alights something in his chest again. It doesn't burn the way it did before, but kindles something different this time. Something comforting, almost. Though he still doesn't know what keeps the man clinging onto the mere prospect of eking a word out of the taciturn bartender, or what gets him so excited about stealing one from him, other than the thrill of the challenge. It's flattering his silence is such an interesting facet to Thorn, a prize to be chased and a commodity, though the interest confuses him.
He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back in his seat, the leather creaking under him from the movement. Thorn's smile has turned decidedly mischievous and there's clearly some evil cogs moving in his evil brain for an evil plan, but Casimir is still riding high on his victory. Cocking his head to the side slightly, he keeps his face passive and blank, but his eyes sparkle with amusement. After years of dealing with Thorn's antics, he's got a few tricks up his sleeve.
Casimir
and nobody told me it ended
