// i saw the walls, finished and plain //
Selfishly indulgent, Thorn watches as Casimir starts to stretch out his arms. A part of him – the part that’s good at reading people, specifically the handsome bartender – can see the stiffness, the way he tries to play it cool as his limbs stretch and his back arcs to try and shake out the sleep, to wake up the pain in his arms and body. He doesn’t comment on it right this second, though, instead, simply appreciating the way he unfurls like a cat from where Thorn sits up to watch and grant him the space to stretch.
He can also tell that he’s trying to play it cool, to mask it, assuming it’s because he doesn’t want the courtesan to think it’s his fault. So he doesn’t let it sink into him, just watches as Casimir regards him and shakes his head, allowing Thorn to breathe a soft sigh of relief, for the smile to curve on the corners of his lips in a soft little lilt and a nod. “Good.” Thorn murmurs, starting to relax, shoulders drooping as he feels the touch of the calloused hand reach for him, tangling with his fingers.
He lets him, willingly, his freehand shifting slightly to cover the rest of Casimir’s in a comforting little connection, though it makes the blanket slip from the rest of his shoulder, pooling into his lap. He squeezes his hand there before he’s leaning over Casimir again, this time no longer in a position to make his arms fall asleep, and instead starts to fuss with the curls that pool around the bartender’s face and cheeks, his touch soft and featherlight as he brushes them back and away. “Did ya get any sleep?” He asks, brushing his fingertips along Casimir’s cheekbones, soft and gentle, silently trying to hide the fact he's overjoyed.
He can also tell that he’s trying to play it cool, to mask it, assuming it’s because he doesn’t want the courtesan to think it’s his fault. So he doesn’t let it sink into him, just watches as Casimir regards him and shakes his head, allowing Thorn to breathe a soft sigh of relief, for the smile to curve on the corners of his lips in a soft little lilt and a nod. “Good.” Thorn murmurs, starting to relax, shoulders drooping as he feels the touch of the calloused hand reach for him, tangling with his fingers.
He lets him, willingly, his freehand shifting slightly to cover the rest of Casimir’s in a comforting little connection, though it makes the blanket slip from the rest of his shoulder, pooling into his lap. He squeezes his hand there before he’s leaning over Casimir again, this time no longer in a position to make his arms fall asleep, and instead starts to fuss with the curls that pool around the bartender’s face and cheeks, his touch soft and featherlight as he brushes them back and away. “Did ya get any sleep?” He asks, brushing his fingertips along Casimir’s cheekbones, soft and gentle, silently trying to hide the fact he's overjoyed.
Hawthorn
// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //
