on the low, i get vertigo from body overdose
Right this second, Thorn isn’t sure if he’s ever seen more emotion bloom across the bartender’s face. The confusion that sits there, like the courtesan isn’t speaking the common tongue, like he hasn’t just blatantly let his tongue run away with his thoughts in the most horrifying of ways. He’s lucky, perhaps, because when the oh leaves the attuned and Thorn sits there with a racing heartbeat that only seems to increase, does he think that perhaps Casimir has read between the lines of what Thorn was saying, that he might see the quiet yearn and longing beneath the surface of shiny, flashy jewelry and a cheshire’s smile.
He doesn’t, though, instead the half statement-half question slips from the bartender’s lips and Thorn latches on like a lifeline, his smile brightening softly as he nods – his seafoam gaze scanning Cas’ face as if to ensure that he proves the point he’s trying to make. “Yeah. Friends.” He agrees – exhaling a soft sigh that’s in part relief that he didn’t see beneath it, but also a small amount of scorn for himself like he should’ve just fucking said it right to begin with.
The okay leaves him and Thorn finally decides to let the bartender’s warm arms go, taking a moment to snag the heavy wool coat to hand it to Casimir with an easier smile, meeting that cracked and guarded gaze. “Put on yer coat, don’t want you gettin’ sick.” He murmurs, before he’s sliding into his leather jacket, drawing it tight around his smaller frame. Glancing back toward the restaurant he can see the bag in the hand of the waiter hesitating before coming out and Thorn diverts his attention toward the door – stepping away and hoping and praying to Freys that the bartender doesn’t take this second to slip away.
He collects the bag, pays, and turns back to Casimir. “So there’s a quiet courtyard around here, or.. we could take it back to the House? Grab a booth or a room or somethin’ so it’s more familiar?” He leaves it open for Cas to choose which he’d prefer, because at the end of the day Thorn didn’t care where they were, so long as he got to spend time together with him.
He doesn’t, though, instead the half statement-half question slips from the bartender’s lips and Thorn latches on like a lifeline, his smile brightening softly as he nods – his seafoam gaze scanning Cas’ face as if to ensure that he proves the point he’s trying to make. “Yeah. Friends.” He agrees – exhaling a soft sigh that’s in part relief that he didn’t see beneath it, but also a small amount of scorn for himself like he should’ve just fucking said it right to begin with.
The okay leaves him and Thorn finally decides to let the bartender’s warm arms go, taking a moment to snag the heavy wool coat to hand it to Casimir with an easier smile, meeting that cracked and guarded gaze. “Put on yer coat, don’t want you gettin’ sick.” He murmurs, before he’s sliding into his leather jacket, drawing it tight around his smaller frame. Glancing back toward the restaurant he can see the bag in the hand of the waiter hesitating before coming out and Thorn diverts his attention toward the door – stepping away and hoping and praying to Freys that the bartender doesn’t take this second to slip away.
He collects the bag, pays, and turns back to Casimir. “So there’s a quiet courtyard around here, or.. we could take it back to the House? Grab a booth or a room or somethin’ so it’s more familiar?” He leaves it open for Cas to choose which he’d prefer, because at the end of the day Thorn didn’t care where they were, so long as he got to spend time together with him.
Hawthorn
so tell me your name and tell me your problems, i got the same
