on the low, i get vertigo from body overdose
He doesn’t know the tells of Cas just yet to be able to tell which parts send him over the edge. So for now, it’s that passive stone faced approach he catches that makes him feel like everything is back to normal – normal enough that the courtesan has to go and ruin it by absolutely being his best impression of a cat to haul himself up on the wooden counter, the familiar grains of wood beneath his hands when he finally settles and watches Casimir approach like he did in fact eat the canary.
He tracks him, just to try and see which side of the bar the bartender would be claiming, and much to his surprise he sees the way he aims for Thorn’s usual side of the bar. A bit of glee creeps into his gut, warm and inviting, but it’s nothing compared to the sparks of fireworks that thread through his veins to see as Casimir sits directly below him on the well worn stools and looks up at him.
He’s still wearing his jacket, watching with curious eyes as the bartender’s hand creeps up and for a split second he wonders if he’d completely misread the situation earlier and maybe he should have just asked him directly if it meant he could get his hands on him. But, like a cold bucket of water getting thrown on him, the bliss and quiet approval of the warm hand that touches him is doused the second he’s shoved.
A short little yelp escapes the courtesan and he does go falling back off the other side of the bar, still wearing Casimir’s coat in the process. But Cas won’t hear the thud of him hitting the ground on the other side. Instead, Thorn rises gracefully with the help of his air magic, gusting around him and rippling Casimir’s coat as he sets himself back on his feet and looks at the other man with far too much dangerous amusement in his gaze.
“Wow, rude.” He teases. He could get back up on the bar, but he chooses not to, instead choosing to lean across it toward the bartender, draping like a thick blanket over the back of a couch. “But seein’ as I’m on this side, now.. What can I getcha, pretty boy?”
He tracks him, just to try and see which side of the bar the bartender would be claiming, and much to his surprise he sees the way he aims for Thorn’s usual side of the bar. A bit of glee creeps into his gut, warm and inviting, but it’s nothing compared to the sparks of fireworks that thread through his veins to see as Casimir sits directly below him on the well worn stools and looks up at him.
He’s still wearing his jacket, watching with curious eyes as the bartender’s hand creeps up and for a split second he wonders if he’d completely misread the situation earlier and maybe he should have just asked him directly if it meant he could get his hands on him. But, like a cold bucket of water getting thrown on him, the bliss and quiet approval of the warm hand that touches him is doused the second he’s shoved.
A short little yelp escapes the courtesan and he does go falling back off the other side of the bar, still wearing Casimir’s coat in the process. But Cas won’t hear the thud of him hitting the ground on the other side. Instead, Thorn rises gracefully with the help of his air magic, gusting around him and rippling Casimir’s coat as he sets himself back on his feet and looks at the other man with far too much dangerous amusement in his gaze.
“Wow, rude.” He teases. He could get back up on the bar, but he chooses not to, instead choosing to lean across it toward the bartender, draping like a thick blanket over the back of a couch. “But seein’ as I’m on this side, now.. What can I getcha, pretty boy?”
Hawthorn
so tell me your name and tell me your problems, i got the same
