hell to the stars

In a way, Sunjata had only done it for her, finding that it was easier for her to deal with the idea of him training her if he kept that line in the sand while he wore that wedding ring. And he had, too, kept to it that is. But now? There were no obstacles, aside from the way he’d always seemed to drift from person to person, bed to bed, focusing his attention about as often as he found someone who accepted it. And this close to her? After their training sessions, how much she knows about him? How she’d lost control of her magic and he’d warmed her up until she was okay, until she was safe?

She has his attention now.

He lets off on his closeness to her when her hands push into his chest, pushing him away. And he follows the direction, stepping back with that same almost kind of smug smirk along his face to lean his back against the bar beside her, bruises on the back of his arms, along his spine that he can acutely feel the soreness of as he presses back into the electric charred wood of the bar top. He exhales a quiet, smokey, shaky sigh as he surveys the damage for a brief second. And his head tilts toward her in consideration. "[say]It's still unfair.[/say]" He admits with some small amount of amusement lingering in the accented tones of his voice.