// i saw the walls, finished and plain //
Thorn realizes quickly that he’d be willing to hold Casimir through whatever crisis he has – or continues. The warmth that seeps from him whether the bartender feels it or not is a comforting boon, one that the courtesan is happy to inject back into him, to keep his arms wrapped around the stronger man, the bulk of muscle and smooth skin and curls, as if the thinner courtesan made for a pretty good pillar.
He’ll keep him there as long as Casimir allows – hearing the weak answer that he gives. And honestly? Thorn doesn’t think it’s that much of an issue. The desert would have a bar within the casino, and if Cas wanted to continue that choice there would be options. “You’re good at it.” Thorn hums, confidence leaking into the smooth hum of his voice, holding Casimir close against him.
To hear the strangled tone of his voice, Thorn can’t help but ache for him in a way that he isn’t sure how to help. He wants to fix it, but he knows that there’d be no way to help fix anything unless Casimir wanted to start it. So instead of answering all of the ways that Cas could start again, as though he were a ghost that’s just become physical again, he opts for something else. “S’okay if that’s all, too.” He answers confidently. “This is all that was there ‘fore I convinced ya to step out from behind the bar with me, an’ I still wanted to.” It wasn’t a deterrent for the courtesan, and it still isn’t one.
He presses his cheek in against the wild curls, as if the physical answer was just as important as the verbal one. “Hate to break it to ya Cas, but you’re stuck with me bein’ the Thorn in your side.”
He’ll keep him there as long as Casimir allows – hearing the weak answer that he gives. And honestly? Thorn doesn’t think it’s that much of an issue. The desert would have a bar within the casino, and if Cas wanted to continue that choice there would be options. “You’re good at it.” Thorn hums, confidence leaking into the smooth hum of his voice, holding Casimir close against him.
To hear the strangled tone of his voice, Thorn can’t help but ache for him in a way that he isn’t sure how to help. He wants to fix it, but he knows that there’d be no way to help fix anything unless Casimir wanted to start it. So instead of answering all of the ways that Cas could start again, as though he were a ghost that’s just become physical again, he opts for something else. “S’okay if that’s all, too.” He answers confidently. “This is all that was there ‘fore I convinced ya to step out from behind the bar with me, an’ I still wanted to.” It wasn’t a deterrent for the courtesan, and it still isn’t one.
He presses his cheek in against the wild curls, as if the physical answer was just as important as the verbal one. “Hate to break it to ya Cas, but you’re stuck with me bein’ the Thorn in your side.”
Hawthorn
// lavender blooms on the ink of my name //
