// i saw the walls, finished and plain //
The hm does convey the meaning Casimir intends it to – probably because they’d been dancing this tango of understanding between them. Casimir says very little and Thorn puts the pieces together by reading between the lines. He does the same here, nodding his agreement to the decidedly nonanswer that the handsome bartender gives. Thorn wants to look up at him, to see the shift in his gaze and the way those eyes harbor so much hidden that he wants to uncover. He wants to be an archeologist.. Only maybe not today.
His seafoam eyes drop to the glass, drawing unknown designs into the sides of it before he takes the glass with the strong old fashioned and downs the rest of it, letting it warm him and hopefully drag him into a restful slumber once he finds his way off this barstool.
He doesn’t have to wait long, though, because he hears Casimir’s voice – as lovely as ever, and a good enough indicator for him to give him his attention. The offer is one of surprise, but his smile tugs on his face – soft and tired, but still there and honestly just as vibrant in the underlining of it as it had been That Night. “That’d be nice.” He agrees, downing half the water before he forces himself back into standing, collecting the hat and crushing it against his chest as he stifles a yawn, waiting for Casimir to join him.
He’s not sure if he knows where his room is – but it’s perhaps the most decorated door in the hallway some of the courtesan’s lived in. Third door in on the right, adorned with glittering décor and flowy feathers like a bouquet of greeting. Casimir would know without a doubt which one was Thorn’s, but he’s still happy for the help getting there anyway.
Especially now, because the alcohol – extra strong – hits right as he stands and waits, and he grips the edge of the bar to keep from swaying too hard.
His seafoam eyes drop to the glass, drawing unknown designs into the sides of it before he takes the glass with the strong old fashioned and downs the rest of it, letting it warm him and hopefully drag him into a restful slumber once he finds his way off this barstool.
He doesn’t have to wait long, though, because he hears Casimir’s voice – as lovely as ever, and a good enough indicator for him to give him his attention. The offer is one of surprise, but his smile tugs on his face – soft and tired, but still there and honestly just as vibrant in the underlining of it as it had been That Night. “That’d be nice.” He agrees, downing half the water before he forces himself back into standing, collecting the hat and crushing it against his chest as he stifles a yawn, waiting for Casimir to join him.
He’s not sure if he knows where his room is – but it’s perhaps the most decorated door in the hallway some of the courtesan’s lived in. Third door in on the right, adorned with glittering décor and flowy feathers like a bouquet of greeting. Casimir would know without a doubt which one was Thorn’s, but he’s still happy for the help getting there anyway.
Especially now, because the alcohol – extra strong – hits right as he stands and waits, and he grips the edge of the bar to keep from swaying too hard.
Hawthorn
// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //
