Neron
the wind breathes lonely
longing to be seen
longing to be seen
"It takes a bit of getting used to," Neron agrees, the Ascended smirking and settling back into the seat as Morgan replaces her hand on his knee. It takes a moment, but he gently rests his own hand over hers, his palm neither too hot nor too cold, but it's as much of an affectionate gesture as he's shown since before he was Warden. To anyone, he thinks. And while it's a little awkward, at first, he soon relaxes into the easy contact.
Scoffing to Morgan, he slants a sufficiently charming grin in her direction (for good measure, of course). "Most don't really like to touch a man who is freezing cold," he points out, before realising she probably doesn't know that about him. "My deal with the Eirachi meant that I never felt warm. Since I Ascended I'm probably the most comfortable since I got to Halo."
The explanation about Deimos is both a balm and a thorn on Neron's suspicions, and he doesn't try to hide the childish sort of pout on his lips. "I don't believe I've ever met the man. Of course he doesn't like me." He snorts.
Scoffing to Morgan, he slants a sufficiently charming grin in her direction (for good measure, of course). "Most don't really like to touch a man who is freezing cold," he points out, before realising she probably doesn't know that about him. "My deal with the Eirachi meant that I never felt warm. Since I Ascended I'm probably the most comfortable since I got to Halo."
The explanation about Deimos is both a balm and a thorn on Neron's suspicions, and he doesn't try to hide the childish sort of pout on his lips. "I don't believe I've ever met the man. Of course he doesn't like me." He snorts.
sometimes the soul
has days like these
has days like these
