He watches her spring towards him with the patience of an elephant, his eyes quietly amused though his expression is still subtle. That she still knows how he feels despite his rather impassive appearance is one of the first things that drew her to him; that, and her beauty of course which has only grown as she has. Language has never been his strong suit after all, and it is a testament to her cleverness that she can read him as well as she does.
"Innocehnt?" He repeats, peering down at her, lips curling slightly more as his brows arched upwards skeptically. Bi-coloured eyes fall upon her shoulder, partially revealed as it is by the slouch of her shirt and the drooping of her blanket. It makes his mouth water, the juxtaposition of his rough hands on her smooth skin always sending a fiery thrill through him. Watching as she fusses around the kitchen, grabbing mugs and turning back to her, it's as if she moves in a time stream different than she does. His movements are slow and sometimes clumsy, whereas hers as quick and precise.
"Whaht I cahn't fihgyur out is—" But before he can finish, the smell of burning is rank in the air. Turning his shoulders towards the stove to see the blackened remnants of their eggs charred, the basil softly aflame, the elephant curses under his breath. Grabbing for the handle with his bare hands (the palms of which have grown grey and leathery with his partial shift), he dumps the pan into the sink where it softly hisses.
"Innocehnt?" He repeats, peering down at her, lips curling slightly more as his brows arched upwards skeptically. Bi-coloured eyes fall upon her shoulder, partially revealed as it is by the slouch of her shirt and the drooping of her blanket. It makes his mouth water, the juxtaposition of his rough hands on her smooth skin always sending a fiery thrill through him. Watching as she fusses around the kitchen, grabbing mugs and turning back to her, it's as if she moves in a time stream different than she does. His movements are slow and sometimes clumsy, whereas hers as quick and precise.
"Whaht I cahn't fihgyur out is—" But before he can finish, the smell of burning is rank in the air. Turning his shoulders towards the stove to see the blackened remnants of their eggs charred, the basil softly aflame, the elephant curses under his breath. Grabbing for the handle with his bare hands (the palms of which have grown grey and leathery with his partial shift), he dumps the pan into the sink where it softly hisses.
RU'IN
